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He hears his name as though it’s being spoken into his consciousness rather than coming from the voice of someone else. Perhaps he’s dreaming, though he isn’t aware of anything in particular, just the amorphous haze of twilight.
“Takumi…”
He hears it again, a little clearer this time. Hmm? Who’s there?
“Wake up, Takumi,” a voice says playfully.
When Takumi doesn’t stir, he feels a flick to the forehead. He startles awake, sitting bolt upright in bed, nerves and dread in the pit of his stomach. He glances around the room, hoping against hope that someone is in the room with him and had tapped him on the forehead, but his heart sinks as he realizes the room is empty.
Eito Aotsuki has been living in his head quite literally rent-free for a week now, ever since he executed Eito and absorbed his hemoanima. It had not been an easy decision, but Takumi is not sure which would have been worse—letting Eito escape, letting Eito kill him outside school grounds so the Revive-O-Matic had no effect, or the reality he’s now living with, of having 24/7 unhinged commentary in his head. Sleep is the only reprieve from it, at least, when Eito isn’t waking him up out of boredom.
“I’m awake,” Takumi says out loud, glaring at the empty couch across from his bed. “What do you want?”
“It’s 7 am,” the Eito in his head admonishes him with an insincere smile. “Are you planning on abandoning your duties as team leader? Everyone’s counting on you, you know.”
Takumi sighs wearily and heads for the shower.
This is their new routine. Like clockwork, Eito wakes him up, Eito puts him to bed. Eito provides running commentary of everything he does throughout the day, interspersed with remarks about how he should respond to absolutely every quandary with murder. Eito occasionally exercises the power he’s gained to control little things about Takumi’s body, like flicking himself in the forehead, or tripping over his own feet, or putting clothes on inside out. He supposes Eito has grown bored of the threats he made in the first three days together, and he suspects Eito was bluffing when he talked about taking complete control of Takumi’s body, but it’s an uneasy truce.
At night, he heads back to his room. Eito has gone curiously silent for the last couple of hours—not long enough for Takumi to entertain hope that his consciousness has left, but long enough to at least get a break from arguing with him all day.
He climbs into bed, hoping for at least a little quiet and rest tonight, and as he closes his eyes, it begins.
“How was your day, Takumi?”
The voice Takumi hears is soft, high-pitched, friendly—or it would be, if Takumi didn’t know better. He snorts. “You were there the whole time. Why are you asking me?”
“You’re tense,” Eito says cheerfully. “I can feel it.”
Takumi grits his teeth. He’s avoided touching certain parts of his body for any purposes other than hygiene for the past week, and it’s wearing his patience thin. But with Eito in his head, never leaving him alone, he can’t… he just can’t.
A vision of Eito lit up in blue and lounging smugly on a couch fills his consciousness. “Come on, Takumi. You can tell me. We’re friends, aren’t we?”
“Don’t you dare call us friends after everything you’ve done,” Takumi growls.
“You’re right. I’d never be friends with you or any of the other repulsive monsters at the academy,” Eito says, with an undercurrent of anger and disgust in his voice.
It makes Takumi feel even more tense. A whole week of this, and the simmering rage he’s had to keep at bay. No way out. No way to kill Eito for real this time and expel him from Takumi’s brain.
“Correct,” Eito replies. “You already killed me. Wasn’t once enough?” He subtly raises an eyebrow, uncrossing and crossing his legs in the opposite direction.
“Clearly it wasn’t, because you’re still here,” Takumi says stiffly.
“Together forever,” Eito says sweetly, in a loud whisper. “I’m no happier about it than you are, by the way. Though it has its upsides.”
Takumi feels something brushing against his hipbones, beneath the waistband of his sweatpants, and he startles, sitting up immediately in bed and glancing around the room for an intruder. Seeing no one, he lays back down, his pulse pounding in his throat, until the sensation starts again. Something is reaching inside his pants and stroking his skin just inside the hollows of Takumi’s hips. The touch is gentle and light, and Takumi is confused until he hears Eito chuckle. “What are you doing?” Takumi demands sourly.
“Oh, is this not how you like to get started?” Eito glances playfully at him. “My mistake. Perhaps you’d prefer pain?”
Takumi feels something scratch down the outside of his thigh, and he shudders. “Stop it.”
“Why? It’s working, isn’t it?” A smirk tugs at the corners of Eito’s lips.
“What do you mean, working—” Takumi cuts himself off as he shifts under the covers and notices his boxers have grown tight. Fuck.
“We share a body now,” Eito reminds him.
“I’m not sharing anything,” Takumi retorts. “I—” He trails off as he feels something reaching down his pants, and realizes it must be one of his hands; there’s no one else in the room. “Eito, are you feeling me up right now?”
Eito laughs softly. “Perhaps I’m feeling myself up.”
“That isn’t funny,” Takumi snaps. “It’s my body, not yours.”
“I beg to differ,” Eito replies, an upbeat lilt in his voice, and Takumi feels a hand wrap around him.
He curses softly under his breath, feels a wave of heat in his groin. Fuck, it’s been a week, it’s been a week and he’s ready to go, but—
“It’s my body now,” Eito declares, in the sickly-sweet tone of voice Takumi recalls from their early time together. “And soon, I’m going to make you kill all those monsters you call friends. But first…” The hand on Takumi’s cock slides down, then all the way back up, and Takumi curses. “We’re going to have some fun.”
“You’re bluffing. You don’t have that kind of power,” Takumi challenges, then feels a flick to his balls and yelps. “What are you—”
“Don’t make me do that again,” Eito warns. “Settle down.”
“I’ll kill you,” Takumi growls. “One way or another, I am going to destroy you, Eito—”
“Oh please, aren’t we past that now?” Eito tosses his head back and runs a hand through the pale hair framing his face, pushing up his glasses. “There’s nothing you can do. You’re mine forever, and I’m yours. Believe me, I’d leave if I could. You have no idea how much I hate it here. Trapped inside the body of one of you nasty, awful, repulsive human beings—I just feel like I could go mad with pure rage and hatred!” Eito loses himself in a manic, wheezy laugh. “So I have to occupy myself somehow…”
“Are you done talking?” Takumi retorts. “All you ever do is talk—”
Then suddenly Eito starts to move the hand on his dick, and Takumi is struck silent but for a sudden intake of breath. He tries to keep his eyes open, to stay in the present moment and awareness that it is his own hand, actually, that is touching himself right now, but a soft snort of amusement breaks his focus.
“Enjoying yourself?” Eito’s voice is smug, disdainful.
“I’d enjoy it a lot more if you left me alone,” Takumi replies icily. “I’m not in the habit of being watched every time I—” He tenses, a full body shiver pulsing through him as Eito twists Takumi’s wrist just a little bit on the upstroke, just the way he likes it.
Takumi feels Eito speed up the hand on his dick, tightening the grip slightly, and the insult he had planned dies in his throat as he lets out a soft, humiliating moan.
“I’m good at this, aren’t I?” Eito says, in an uncharacteristically sultry voice.
Takumi says nothing, but his efforts to stay quiet are not successful. His chest is heaving with heavy breaths and sighs, and when Eito takes his left hand and begins gently caressing his balls, he feels his head jerk back against the pillow.
“It’s because inside our body, I’m privy to all the little details of everything that makes you tick, Takumi. All the pleasure,” he says, his voice dropping low, “and all the pain.”
Takumi shudders as the sensation on his body suddenly disappears. Eito’s got Takumi’s hands pinned to his sides, and despite his best efforts, he can’t move them. He feels himself throb, hard and tense, aching to be touched. “Wh—what are you doing, Eito?” he protests weakly.
He sees the Eito in his mind unzip his jacket, revealing a thin white t-shirt and Eito’s collarbone and neck. The look on Eito’s face is a strange combination of triumph and contempt. “I’m taking control.”
Takumi feels Eito pressing his hands on his hips to keep him still, inches away from where his hard cock strains for contact. Eito is smirking as he shrugs the jacket off of his shoulders, spreading his long legs wide on the couch. He runs his hands up and down the curves of his hips, outside of his snug white pants, and then lets them drift upwards, across his chest, to tug at the collar of his shirt.
Takumi tries to blink away the image, shivering, then feels Eito take him in hand once again and tries to suppress a groan. He turns his face to the side, as though attempting to hide it in his pillow, and hopes no one can hear the sounds he’s making from outside. It’s bad enough that Eito can hear them.
“Oh, yes, I can hear you, Takumi,” Eito replies. “I can hear all of the vile, shameless noises you make. I can even hear the ones you’re not making.”
Shut up, Takumi thinks angrily, but then Eito’s hand starts moving, and his hips buck up into Eito’s grasp, and he’s unable to keep quiet.
His eyes close, and all he can see is Eito’s smug grin, and hear the mocking laughter fill his consciousness as surely as it would if Eito were really there with him, proud and tall and kneeling in his bed, gripping him and slowly jerking him off.
“I don’t think you need to worry about the others hearing,” Eito adds, “though wouldn’t it be just so awkward if Nozomi heard? Or Hiruko? Or any of the others you’ve grown so fond of? Since after all, it’s me who’s touching you.”
“I’m the one touching me,” Takumi insists, and opens his eyes, lifting his head up to glance over at the empty couch in front of his bed, in an attempt to remind himself that he is alone in his room. “You’re just watching—ah…” He trails off and lays back in bed again as Eito’s grip tightens and rhythmically works him up and down.
When Eito appears before him again, he’s shirtless. Takumi’s face suffuses with heat as his attention snags on Eito’s broad, pale shoulders and slender waist. There is lean muscle beneath Eito’s skin, and a lot of angles and lines that Takumi’s mental gaze takes in as he beholds the vision of his once-friend in a state of undress in which he’s never seen him. Takumi holds his breath as Eito strips the black gloves off his hands and presses the heel of his palm on the bulge in his white trousers, feeling rather than hearing the breath that escapes Eito’s lips. He is an unintentional voyeur to the lewd scene of Eito staring down at himself, opening his pants and reaching a large, slender hand down into the sheer white boxers he’s wearing.
Suddenly Eito makes eye contact, and Takumi guiltily tries to look away, but he can’t look away, because it’s happening inside his brain.
“Well, now, that’s interesting,” Eito breathes. “I didn’t expect that kind of a response. Do you like what you see, Takumi?” His head tips back with laughter, and he pushes his glasses up before reaching back down to his groin, pulling the fabric of his pants taut to show off. “I can feel your heart rate increase. I can hear your breathing. You’ve never seen me like this before. Do you want to see everything? Have you thought about me with my clothes off?”
Takumi’s face flushes, as he tries not to think about the strength beneath Eito’s skin, or the fact that he’s clearly, visibly hard. He can see Eito’s hand shifting under the fabric of his pants as he plays with himself, and the heat in his body gets stronger as he suddenly pictures Eito undressing, getting in the shower, feeling himself up under the steamy, hot water—
“That’s a fun mental image,” Eito interrupts with a smug grin.
“Get out of my head,” Takumi shouts. His heart hammers in his chest at being found out.
“Ooh, you’re so angry! But you should know you can’t keep secrets from me…” Eito stands up, undoes his trousers and takes them off, and Takumi feels the heat in his face intensify when he sees Eito’s profile and the obvious curve of his dick in the white boxers he’s wearing.
“Why are you hard right now?” Takumi cringes internally at the breathy sound of his voice. “I thought I was disgusting.”
“We share a body, in case you’ve forgotten.” Eito sits back on the couch, knees spread wide. He’s as pale under his clothes as Takumi expected, lean muscle and long limbs that look like they’ve never seen the sun. Eito reaches down and takes himself in hand, tipping his head back and sighing. “Why should you have all the fun?”
Takumi’s body jolts as Eito starts touching himself. He feels himself shivering all over, breaking a sweat. He’s hot, far too hot, and he can’t keep himself from moaning out loud. “That—that feels—I can feel what you’re doing, Eito,” he gasps.
“Oh, it’s so vile when you say my name like that,” Eito taunts. “Being desired by a monster is so horrific!” He laughs out loud, and sets a fast pace. “I never would have touched you if I was still alive, but in here I don’t have to smell you, or deal with any of the disgust you and your friends make me feel…” Despite his words, the look in Eito’s eyes is hungry, and Takumi feels his other hand squeeze his thigh, massage his balls, and reach below to grab at his ass.
Takumi can’t look away even if he wanted to—which he has to admit to himself, he doesn’t—and even though he’s cringing at the sound of his voice, deep and needy echoing through his room, he’s hungrily watching Eito stroke his dick with one hand and caress himself with the other, taking in the sounds of skin on skin and Eito’s harsh breathing and soft sounds of pleasure. “If… if you come,” he gasps raggedly, “will I feel it too?”
“Hah…” Eito’s face is flushed, eyes half lidded. Takumi can see the lean muscle of Eito’s arm tense as he works himself. Eito’s technique for himself is somewhat erratic, several fast strokes at a time followed by slower ones that ease up and down the full length of his dick. “Do you wish… I still had a body? Do you want to touch me the… way I’m touching myself?” Eito suddenly laughs. “I can feel you respond. I felt your dick throb in my hand when I said that… I bet you wanted to fuck me before you killed me,” he says, running his tongue over his bottom lip. “Do you always want to fuck… everyone you hate, Takumi? Is that what being human means to you?” He laughs breathlessly, his slender hips twitching as his head bows forward slightly, glasses slipping down his nose.
Takumi feels his back begin to arch, tingling and shivering. Eito’s hand tightens on him and speeds up, and he stops trying to keep his eyes open. All he can see is Eito’s long, slender body, trembling, naked, shameless, as he feels the feedback loop of Eito’s pleasure flowing into his body, their joined cryptoglobin on fire in his veins, as he gets closer, closer, closer.
“No longer… protesting… I see,” Eito says breathlessly, cursing. His chest is heaving and his face is flushed, but he maintains eye contact, his cold blue gaze intense and powerful. “Is this… what you wanted… all along? To kill me… to keep me inside you… forever?”
Takumi’s only response is a broken moan.
“Say my name,” Eito demands, “say it or I won’t let you come. We’re close…” Eito groans, working himself at a pace that looks brutal. “So close… say it. Traumatize the others… can they hear you… can they hear us? Do you want them to…?”
“Eito…” His enemy’s name echoes in the dark room, and Takumi shivers with humiliation at the volume of his voice. He writhes beneath the covers of his bed, sweat dripping from his hairline as the hand Eito is controlling strokes him with perfect technique. “Eito, please, don’t stop,” he gasps, a loud whisper from his dry throat.
“You need it? Tell me you need it.” Eito’s voice is a harsh whisper, his gaze predatory.
“Yes,” Takumi groans, feeling a hot wash of shame cascade down his body, making him throb in Eito’s fist. “Yes, I need it—ah!”
“You can’t—mnnhh—get enough?” Eito’s mussed grey hair falls into his face, and he shoves it back, pushing up his glasses and taking a shuddering breath.
Takumi moans shamelessly, hips stuttering as he trembles. “More, Eito, please—”
Eito lets out a breathless laugh. “You say you hate me… and yet—ah!—you can’t—can’t help yourself, can you, T-Takumi—” His face flushes redder, and he breaks their eye contact to bow his head, cursing and shivering. “You just can’t help it… can’t help the way I—ah—make you feel—so ironic that you n-need me like this… ah, fuck…” Eito’s voice breaks at the edges, a sharp whine as his eyes squeeze tightly closed, working himself fast and relentless.
The sight of Eito completely lost in desire has Takumi swimming in sensation so intense he can barely breathe. He can feel himself riding the edge, just seconds away from letting the tension in his body finally snap. “Eito, I—I’m—”
A loud moan escapes Eito’s lips when he hears his name. He spreads his legs wider, his head tilting to the side, lips parted and glasses askew as he’s unable to keep quiet. “Do it,” he breathes, “just for me, only for me—it’s just—just us now… Takumi… Takumi,” Eito gasps with a pained cry.
Eito’s head falls back, and Takumi’s breath catches in his throat as he watches Eito’s body shudder violently. Eito sighs prettily, then cries out, louder and higher pitch, the last one almost a scream. Takumi watches, enraptured, as Eito spills over his fist, a few warm streaks across his pale chest, his face so contorted in pleasure it looks like pain. A stray thought—Eito’s, perhaps?—floats through Takumi’s mind. So good, too good, this is so hot—
Then suddenly, Eito’s orgasm hits him like a lightning strike. Takumi’s back arches, head flying back against the pillow as he groans deep in his chest, pulsing in Eito’s hand as Eito rides him through it, each stroke perfectly tight and so, so good.
Takumi lies there, shaking and trembling all over, his lungs fighting for air as he feels little aftershocks tingling his skin. That… was incredible.
The blue couch is empty. Takumi is confused for a moment, but immediately stops caring, boneless and blissed out and drenched with sweat. He idly wonders if he has a change of sheets.
He’s still shaking and trembling a full minute later. By now, Eito has gotten dressed again, and is back to sitting on the blue couch. “Well? How was that?”
It takes a few seconds for Takumi to find the ability to speak, but when he does, it’s with a steady voice. “You had an awful lot of fun for someone who claims to hate me, Eito.”
Eito laughs softly, but the joy doesn’t reach his eyes. “I could say the same for you, Takumi.”