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"The world is going to end tomorrow."
He says it so casually, with an exhale of smoke as they stare out the window. Sorata doesnt look at him, gaze instead lingering on the rubble outside and below them. Most of the city is gone now, torn by the angry dragon flashing in the night. They both see it, both feel the tremors in the ground and the static in the air. But its one of them, and neither paid it heed.
Yuuto turns to look at him, self satisfied smile in place. “It’s the end of everything tomorrow, and yet you’re in my bed instead of with the Seals.” There is marks on both of them, bites and bruises, red lines scratched into skin.
Sorata feels sick. He always does. There’s something intoxicating about the older man, something poisonous and addicting, so very much like the cigarettes the other enjoys after they finish. When you want to quit but you have to take just one more drag, let the sin under your skin just once more.
He’s addicted and he hates it. Hates how pliant he becomes the second Yuuto touches him. He hates how he’ll arch and whimper, never quite screaming, but always with breath of Yuutos name when the release is given. Sweet release is nothing but a lie, its cruel and painful and the tears stopped mattering long ago.
He’s been quite for to long, it seems. The man smiles, shifting to the side to run his fingers though the teenagers hair. “You’re thinking to much again. A puppet doesn’t need to think.” The cigarette in his hand is almost gone, but Yuuto’s never been one to waste. He pushes Sorata down onto the bed again, lips lingering at his pulse. “Don’t think while you’re here. And don’t resist.”
The cry of pain is covered by a harsh kiss as Yuuto strikes, smouldering end of the smoke pressing roughly into the tender bruised skin on his chest. It hurts, and tears form and slip down his cheeks. Its not the first time Yuuto has burned him, but it might be the last. Sorata, though pained, knows what it means.
So he takes the signal for what it is, the starting shot of yet another round. He weaves his hands into soft gold locks and tugs, body arching and accommodating to the demanding touches. Yuuto is anything but kind, he knows by now where the limit is. Cooling water covers the burn, soothing and teasing all at once as Sorata feels his legs being nudged open.
While not to long has passed since Yuuto last pressed into him, the sting is still undeniably there. It’s dry and he can feel skin catching and sticking. Sorata’s openly crying now, biting his lower lip to hold in the whimper. It’s forbidden, he knows, but the pain shouldn’t be vocalized.
Of course Yuuto notices, growling and leaving a sharp bite to his neck. “Don’t you dare hold it back now. Let your voice out and knows who it is making you squirm.”
Sorata complies, he always does, wet eyes squeezing shut as he moans and sobs their union. The tears on his cheeks linger, sometimes zigzagging as they react to Yuuto’s connection to the water. The man knows how to touch him, how to make his body react and even broken like this the pleasure can still coil. He knows he’s close now, and digs his heels into Yuuto’s legs to signal it.
The movements increase, the pain increases and the pleasure tightens in his gut. Its wrong, Sorata knows it’s wrong, but everything must burst and as he does, its always going to be Yuuto’s name on his tongue and Yuuto’s warmth in his body.
Its a sticky mess neither will be inclined to care about for now. The elder man lights up another drag, his water coiling absently to clean off the sweat. Sorata doesn’t fight it, closing his eyes and rolling away under the covers. He feels sick, but it doesn’t matter.
The Final Day will begin soon and its likely they’ll both die. For now Sorata will just close his eyes and go back to sleep, ignoring the man who’s claimed him as a toy. He’ll know by tomorrow if he’s really worth anything.
Outside the destruction rages on.