Chapter Text
Flashes of a dimly lit bar danced in front of Gintoki's eyes as he came to. Scenes of him sitting with a drink in his hand appeared and disappeared quickly in his mind, the face of a kind stranger who took the liberty to provide him with his next one following soon after, and of Gintoki being drunk enough already to not listen to any warning signs blaring in his ears. The images shifted much too quickly after Gintoki had downed that final glass, becoming blurry and uncoordinated before making way to darkness.
Gintoki felt groggy, his thoughts stale, as if something was pinning them in the back of his mind. He felt solid ground beneath him, but his body was moving– rocking. He blinked his heavy eyes open to see a man on top of him, his mind identifying him as the one who had bought him that drink, and Gintoki's brain short-circuited.
'It hurts,' was the only thing Gintoki could think as the stranger slammed mercilessly into him again and again without real rhythm, leaving Gintoki unable to catch his breath. He tried to lift his arms to push the man off him, but his limbs were heavy with an invisible weight holding them down.
He hissed as he felt skin break when the man changed his angle once again, hiking Gintoki's legs even higher with a lecherous grin on his face. Gintoki tried to focus on the dirt and rocks scraping against his back instead of the pain in his lower half but was unsuccessful as the man's moans came quicker and his movements became more forceful.
Gintoki grunted low with each painful thrust, trying to will himself into moving, into pushing the man away, into killing him. But the anger that surged weakly around the panic in Gintoki's heart wasn't helping him in getting up, so he laid there, trying to keep his voice silent.
The man continued, uncaring of his victim's plight, bringing his hands to press heavily on Gintoki's abdomen. Gintoki gasped as he was pushed further down onto the ground and the man lowered himself upon his chest.
The stank of cheap alcohol filled Gintoki's nostrils as the man's face came closer to his own, and he turned his head to face the other way, away from the putrid smell. The man started hissing in Gintoki's ear as he neared his finish. The silver-haired man clenched his eyes shut as fingers wrapped around his limp dick, stroking it in a half-hearted attempt before the stranger gave up and continued chasing his own orgasm.
The thrusts slowed enough for Gintoki to feel like crying out at the unbearable feeling of the man's dick scraping against his walls. With breathless pants, the man pushed his full length into Gintoki's ass, settling himself deeper between the silver-haired man's legs. He caressed his hands along Gintoki's quivering chest before bringing them on his waist to squeeze hard enough to bruise.
With a final grunt, the man came, painting Gintoki's insides with white semen before slowly pulling out. He watched, mesmerised, as his come slowly trickled down Gintoki's backside and onto the dirt below while he rode out his orgasm.
Gintoki panted unevenly through clenched teeth when the man finally pulled himself free. His breath hitched at the hand patting his thigh twice before the rustle of clothes could be heard as the stranger stood up and fixed his yukata.
Gintoki felt a hand grab his chin, forcing him to face the sky. He adamantly refused to open his eyes when the man told him what a good little whore he was, how good he’d taken him. He kept them closed even as he heard the man's footsteps retreating, finally leaving him alone.
Gintoki let his legs fall flat on the dirt and trampled leaves, feeling his thighs burning and muscles cramping from being kept aloft ever since that man had begun his assault. Much sooner than Gintoki would've liked, his mind became overly aware of the cool breeze against his semi-naked form, the coolness even more intense against the warmth leaking out of him.
Despite the horrible sensation, Gintoki laid there for a while, unmoving, taking in as many breaths as he felt he needed before he was able to move again. He steeled himself, rising slowly on unsteady legs and grabbing at a nearby tree to balance himself. He felt dizziness sweep over him from whatever drug the man had put in his drink and tightened his grip on the bark lest he fall down.
Gintoki fixed his clothes as much as he could, dutifully ignoring the white and red streaks rushing to the ground below as he pulled his pants up. He grimaced as the tight fabric brushed over his abused skin, but he let a small sigh of relief spill from his mouth when he found his yukata close by. Every move lit his muscles painfully as he slowly walked towards it and bent to grab it– he tied it properly around his waist, not bothering to take off his tattered shirt.
Feeling less exposed, Gintoki took small steps in what he hoped was the right direction out of this forest. He couldn't remember how he ended up in this place, but he couldn't stay here. No, he had to go home– he had to wash himself, burn his clothes and then drink himself into another amnesic episode.
With each step, Gintoki could feel the slick between his thighs, and his stomach threatened to empty itself. He could barely suppress the urge to vomit between the sensation and the dizziness surging in front of his eyes. He took a small break to gather his bearings, his back against a tree and an arm wrapped around his middle, before continuing on.
His eyes darkened dangerously as he stumbled, but he pushed every thought out of his mind until only one remained; Get home.
Gintoki briefly wondered what time it was; if Kagura would still be up (he hoped she wasn't); if it was late enough for Otose's Bar to have closed already. He looked towards the sky, memories of telling the time the exact same way during the war flashing in his mind. He pushed them away before any more could form with a disgruntled huff of air– he didn't need any more reasons to feel like shit tonight.
Gintoki finally reached the edge of the forest, panting from the effort, and paved road made way in front of him. He looked around, trying to decipher exactly where he was when his eyes fell on a ramen shop closing down for the night. Gintoki knew that place, he had eaten there a couple of times when he had driven up north in the past.
Avoiding the shop and the owner's eyes, Gintoki started his slow trek back to Kabuki District, back home. He knew that the distance already took a half hour drive with his moped, and it would take even longer on foot and injured, but he had no choice but to move forward.
'If I had a cell phone...' flashed through Gintoki's mind before it halted– If he did have a cell phone, who would he call? Certainly not the kids, and Zura wouldn't have a phone himself anyway while being on the run. Otose's name appeared at the forefront of his mind, but the thought of calling the old lady in the middle of the night, drugged and bleeding, sent a shiver down his spine.
Hijikata came unbidden to his thoughts and Gintoki shook his head to get that tax-thief's annoying face out of his brain; He definitely wouldn't want to involve the police– the Shinsengumi even less. He could handle this himself. He would go home, pretend nothing had happened and if this disgusting beast reared its ugly head, then he would take care of that on his own as well. That was how he operated, and he didn't care to change his ways now.
Gintoki cleared his mind of his friends –his family– and let practiced detachment wash over him. He knew, deep in his heart, that that wasn't the healthy thing to do (Shinpachi and Kagura quite literally beating it into his thick skull), but he couldn't see any alternative at that moment.
He only knew that he had to keep walking, getting it done any way possible, and that were he to stop and let himself feel, he wouldn't be taking another step.
Focusing his half-lidded eyes on the horizon in front of him, Gintoki walked on.