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Look, Satoru knew stalkers were bad.
But he knew it in the detached way that he also knew that he should brush his teeth twice a day, and that too much candy was bad for him, and that his little brother Megumi didn’t like his hair tousled by Satoru—great information to have, really, but useless, because he didn’t care and would never heed the advice.
Also, this stalker was excessively polite.
The situation blossomed from little things: Satoru would come to his apartment in Tokyo after a long day of studying (a.k.a. nodding off to sleep in class and flirting with the teachers), only to find a gift inside his apartment, just standing innocently in the lobby. Bags of milk candy, an expensive watch, a new video game controller, new sunglasses (just the model he’d recently broken and been heartbroken about): All these found themselves in his lobby without explanation.
Notes came with the gifts, too.
You looked handsome today.
I hope you didn’t get too wet in the rain—here’s a pocket-sized umbrella for you, it’ll rain tomorrow too.
You like oversweet things, don’t you?
Creepy. He admitted it was creepy. But good god it stroked his ego that someone was putting together all this expensive, well-thought-of stuff just for him, and it felt like they already knew Satoru better than Satoru knew himself. If it was some serial killer trap; which was laughable to even think of; then Satoru was still down with curiosity.
The gifts kept coming when he noticed a shadow trailing after him.
The man kept far away from him on the street, a safe distance away. If Satoru tried to approach him, he vanished into thin air. His features were quite bland, because Satoru couldn’t see his face; a black cap, black jacket, gray or dark trousers and simple shoes, nothing that spoke of him being very important or expensive as the gifts suggested, but then again the stalker would be really dumb to put on anything other than inconspicuous clothes.
A few weeks of this, and Satoru didn’t tell anyone.
Maybe he should’ve. But he didn’t want that boring ‘this is police business’ advice. It was fun. This was fun.
One evening, when he lay draped on the couch at home eating the remaining milk candies and chewing until his teeth ached, a message came to him from an unknown number. Normally he would’ve disregarded it as a scam, but something about it… His clever intuition scraped at him, begged him to reply.
unknown: Would you like to chat here?
He hummed, typed a lazy reply.
It couldn’t be his stalker; but if, if it was.
Then Satoru wanted to seize his chance.
Satoru: who is this?
unknown: I don’t want to give out my name but…
unknown: Forgive me. Have I scared you with all the gifts?
Ooh yes. Yes yes yes. Milk candy dropping from his mouth, Satoru straightened and hastily replied,
Satoru: No :3
Satoru: I like them
Satoru: Don’t understand why tho lol
Satoru: No but like. do I know you
unknown: I don't think so.
unknown: I’m relieved you’re not creeped out.
unknown: I’m not very good at communicating.
Satoru: hmmm psychopath are you?
Satoru: r u hot?
unknown: What?
Satoru: R u hot
Satoru: Send a pic
unknown: I’m not a psychopath.
Satoru: am i part of some grand scheme
Satoru: i’ve noticed someone following me too
Satoru: that’s you
Satoru: isn’t it pookie
unknown: I have been following you.
unknown: I’m sorry.
Satoru: a pic plsssss
unknown: Are you… into this thing?
Satoru: depends on what u look like sowy
unknown: A bit shallow.
Satoru: ur the one creeping around
unknown: You’re right.
unknown: Fine. Here’s a photo.
Satoru licked on his lips as he opened the attachment that came with the message, and then…
Oh shit. Oh damn. It was just the lower body and down, a photo of a shirtless man; a broad chest, so much muscle, rosy nipples and all, arms flexed. A dark happy trail dipped into the waistband of tight trousers, and judging from the long streaks of hair that hung under the tip of the man’s jaw (that’s where the photo cut off) he was wearing a ponytail.
Satoru nearly dropped his phone in the haste to put the photo into a reverse image search. Nothing came up. He tried the different app too, which he’d bought a while ago just to make sure he wasn't being scammed, and nothing.
Feeling a bit light-headed, he hurried back to the chat.
He was too lustful for his own good.
unknown: Are you still there?
unknown: Am I satisfactory?
Satoru: shit man
Satoru: no way that’s u
unknown: I may be a freak but I do go to the gym.
Satoru: ok fine wreck me
unknown: What?
Satoru: isn’t that what u want
Satoru: you’re seducing me in your creepy gremlin way
unknown: I am attempting to, yes.
unknown: Forgive me again.
Satoru: do u break into my house too
unknown: Sometimes.
Satoru: oooooohhhh~~
unknown: Not to be impolite, but are you a bit wrong in the head?
Satoru: Am I wrong in the head? YOU’RE the one doing this
unknown: Still, your reactions are not sensible.
Satoru: can you kidnap me
Satoru: can you corner me in some dark alley
unknown: You want me to kidnap you?
Satoru was being too stupid, but he was still hazy from seeing that photo and—and to be honest he’d never felt a thrill like this before. Maybe it turned out that the man was some fifty year old fat creep who wanted to chain him in his basement but—(okay, Satoru was having a hard time justifying this even to himself)—but what if this was real ? What if those pecs were real ? Like damn this could be worth dying for. He just wanted a chance and whoever it had been writing those notes and giving him all this tasty milk candy, he was already a tiny bit in love with them.
Okay, a lot. A lot in love.
He was crazy.
Satoru: is that an offer?
He waited with his heart in his throat.
unknown: I want you all for myself.
unknown: I would like it.
unknown: But I don’t want to traumatize you.
Satoru: yeah I don’t wanna get chained in your basement for the rest of my life
Satoru: BUT. like.
Satoru: if you’re into it
Satoru: i mean. (Satoru pursed his lips, trying to think it through.)
Satoru: it’s a fantasy of mine
Satoru: i rly hope ur not lying to me
unknown: I wouldn’t hurt you, unless you wanted me to.
Satoru: oh pookie ur so thoughtful
unknown: I still think you’re wrong in the head.
Satoru: pls
Satoru: we’re meant for each other
Satoru: i’ve decided i wanna do it
Satoru: corner me somewhere
unknown: This escalated fast.
unknown: I’m a bit stunned.
Satoru: we’re doing it? <3
unknown: What if I intended to hurt you?
unknown: It’s fine since it’s me, but this could be dangerous, Satoru.
unknown: Please don’t do this with any other stranger.
Satoru: Already satoru to you huh
Satoru: Yeah yeah i’m pushing my limits
Satoru: but you gotta let me go when I say so
unknown: Or what?
Satoru: i’ll cry :(((
unknown: Don’t cry.
unknown: I’ll let you go if you want me to.
unknown: Thank you for your understanding, I know this is absurd.
unknown: I hope you’re not calling the police on me but I understand if you want to.
Satoru: don’t worry pookie
Satoru: bffs forever
Satoru: bfs(?)
Satoru: are u there
Satoru: poookieeeeee
Satoru: ok bye
And that was how Satoru got himself to the biggest and most pleasant mess ever.
Had Megumi known about this, he would’ve slapped Satoru into the next multiverse. Had his friend Shoko known, she would’ve handcuffed him to the chair leg and never let him go to uni that day. But Satoru kept his pretty mouth shut, put on his best underwear and best white shirt and black pants (style icons don’t need variety, he thought, finishing off his daily look with the sunglasses his stalker had gifted him) and danced to campus with even more spring in his step than usual.
He recalled he hadn’t asked for the stalker’s age.
Which felt stupid now. But also unnecessary, because he could’ve just lied to Satoru.
Better to see for himself!
But his excitement began wearing off when the day advanced and he had lunch and walked into deserted alleyways on the break and all, and nobody stalked up to him from behind or raised up a cloth over his nose to drug him with. By the time it was six o’clock and time to go home, no studying accomplished at all (though he’d chewed through a whole bag of xylitol mints), he was bored and disappointed and getting careless, not on his guard at all.
He also needed to piss so he went to the men’s bathroom at the subway station; god, he hated those places, they were grimier than Satan’s asshole, but at least it was deserted. He pissed in peace and was washing his hands angrily when he finally felt the familiar presence behind him and froze up.
Slowly, he raised his gaze to the mirror in front of him.
Black cap, black jacket, gray trousers; standard model, although here, from so close staring at the reflection, he made out a long black streak of hair that peeked from under the drawn-up hood of the jacket. Matched the hair in the photo.
That was all the time he had to think before the man hooked his arm over his neck, locking Satoru in headlock.
Satoru was flush against his chest. Warmth surged through him. It was stupid, but it was so arousing. He thrashed half-heartedly and the man hummed as if to comfort him; his voice was low, smooth, even in that single hum. Of course there was no need to comfort Satoru; he was delighted, and only worried about any security cameras outside. He didn’t want this to become a fuss, he just wanted to get kidnapped and laid and also maybe get a rich boyfriend.
The man was tugging up Satoru’s sleeve. He watched, confused, as a tan thumb felt over the veins of his arm. Because Satoru didn’t struggle or move his hands at all, just held them pliantly up for him, it was easy for the man to locate the vein and—and Satoru blinked, dazed, as there was a flash of a needle.
“Ah…” It pricked him. He thrashed, but only once the liquid had been injected; he didn’t want the needle to jostle around in his flesh. The man caught his wrists into his larger arms and tucked Satoru’s hands to his chest.
“Everything’s alright,” he murmured. “Alright, Satoru.”
Oh, Satoru loved this, he shouldn't have but he did, being tucked into the stranger’s warm chest and calmed down like he was an upset child; he was growing drowsy, and detected the undertone of nausea, the drug coursing through him. Sleeping drought or something trippy? He found he trusted the man to not have given him anything too addictive: So, he surrendered to sleep, and went lax in his grip.
Satoru startled awake.
He was snuggled against something solid—the same body as before. He was in bed, he realized, under a heavy blanket, and the man was laying beside him. Satoru tried to form words but they came out sluggish, only a jumbled hellow.
It was the man from the photo.
It was.
Dark eyes blinked back at him. He had a handsome, symmetrical face, with plump lips and long lashes. Little black studded earrings were attached to his wide ear lobes. As Satoru smiled at him sloppily, he reached out a palm and pressed it on Satoru’s cheek, a bit tentatively. He massaged Satoru’s jaw with his thumb. Leaned in and kissed his forehead.
Satoru would’ve reached out and returned the favor, but found his hands were cuffed in front of him, and when he tried to move, discovered that his legs were bound to each other, too. He was just one pretty postal package and had been delivered to the best place on earth. He curled forward as far as he could go, inhaling the other man’s smell; he smelled sweet, and god knew Satoru loved sweet things.
Maybe he was still tripping from the drug.
Maybe he was tripping but he didn’t care, he was in heaven.
“Be a good boy and nobody will get hurt,” the man told him smoothly. There it was again, the calming tone, it drove Satoru crazy. He decided to play along.
“I’ll be good,” he breathed.
“I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time.” The man trailed his palm down to Satoru’s neck, squeezing it gently, and Satoru swallowed a moan at the pleasure that rushed through him. The feeling of being owned. Being captured. “But you’re a fragile thing, and I don’t want to break you. Are you scared?”
“‘m not.” Satoru leaned into the hand now massaging his throat. “If you… If you want me to be, I can be.”
“You look like an angel,” the man murmured, though he must’ve said it mostly to himself.
Then he leaned in further and further and–
And the plump lips pressed on Satoru’s, and Satoru melted into the kiss, the tongue that darted into his mouth and—and he was so sweet, he tasted delectable, his hands were dipping down Satoru’s body to rest snugly at his lower back, hauling him closer—Satoru’s hands clenched in the cuffs and he moaned, audibly this time, unashamed and wanting this more badly than he’s wanted anything else in his life. Was he hallucinating? Or was this actually the handsome man he was seeing, the same man who had been following him, sending such polite messages, writing in that neat tucked-together handwriting, being so so thoughtful—this was a gift from heaven or perhaps a Troyan horse, maybe the next thing Satoru knew he would be tied to the bed and being flayed alive just to end up on Buzzfeed unsolved—but good lord, dear lord, this was something, this was something .
“More,” he mumbled, “please, please more…”
“Shhh.” The man bit down gently on his lower lip, and Satoru keened. “Good behavior, remember? Patience.”
“I think—I’m in love with you.”
“Shhh,” he said again, though the dark eyes crinkled with his smile, and it was so sweet, how could he be so cute. It was illegal. Satoru panted as he was maneuvered better on the sheets, the blankets drawn away. His brain felt like it was sloshing inside his skull, and he saw stars.
The man planted kisses on his throat, now, massaged Satoru’s clothed chest. Grinded his knee gently between Satoru’s thighs in such a filthy manner that even Satoru couldn’t have succeeded in it. Satoru grinded against his leg, moaned and used all the patience he’d ever had to stop himself from pleading. The warm hands cupped his shoulders and smoothed back his hair. They were flush together and heating up. It was so good. It was the best sex in the world and it was also important that it was dangerous, because Satoru had still been drugged , he didn’t know where he was, the thrill of it was dizzying. Overwhelming. Too much in the way Satoru loved everything in his life. This was living on the edge.
“I’m going to fuck you now,” the man said softly.
And then the darling hesitated, hovering over Satoru, waiting for his reply; if Satoru said no, he could almost believe the man would’ve stopped, and somehow the care made him even harder though he choked out, “yes, yes, I want—”
Another kiss drowned out the rest of his sentence. His clothes were ripped away, the sound of fabric tearing followed by a zipper opening; when Satoru’s shirt was thrown away and his chest was bare for the cold air of the room (a white bedroom, that was all Satoru made out of his surroundings, all he cared), the man hooked his thumbs over the waistband of Satoru’s trousers and tugged those down too. In the end Satoru was pretty much naked, his trousers stuck down at his feet because of the ropes, but the man was still clothed apart from the cock that he’d freed from his trousers and…
“Oh fuck,” Satoru choked at the sight of it: It had to be twelve inches or more, flushed and swollen, beautiful but scary . The first spark of fear lit up inside him when the gentle hands returned to maneuver him on his stomach. He was then picked up by the hips, forcing him into a position where his ass was up in the air.
The man slapped his rear, and Satoru moaned at the impact. His skin tingled with the force of it.
“So beautiful,” the man murmured, climbing over him. There was a pop of a lube bottle opening, and cold liquid slathered over Satoru’s hole. He blushed against the pillow his face rested against, wiggling his bottom, and cried out when the first probing finger slid inside him.
The man prepared him with the same care he’d done everything else, adding fingers first, then scissoring him open, until the dull ache gave way and Satoru was loose and prepared for the taking. Satoru moaned and laughed when the occasional spank warmed his ass again. Finally, he felt the man hovering over him, pressing into him, the tip of his nose brushing against the back of Satoru’s sensitive neck.
Satoru tensed for a moment, and—and then the man was pushing in, murmuring praise into Satoru’s ear.
“So pretty… so good for me… relax, now…”
Satoru whimpered. The cock was spearing him, stretching him far wider than the gentle fingers had done; it was a ticklish, pressure-like feeling, and of course the stretch burned, but it burned so good . He was so hard it hurt, his own cock grinding against the sheets as the man pushed further and further, and just when Satoru thought he’d taken the full length of it there was more . By the time the man was seated snugly inside him, Satoru was sobbing from the sensation, hands tense in the cuffs.
“Satoru,” the man whispered, combing back his white hair. “Does it hurt too much?”
“No—want you to move,” he mumbled. “Break my back like it’s a chocolate bar— agh ,” he cried out as the man began a killer pace, tugging out a few inches only to slam in again. He was pressed tightly into Satoru, and even without the handcuffs and bound legs Satoru wouldn’t have been able to move, he was heavier, he was stronger , he was stronger than Satoru and Satoru wasn’t any old rat either. He was so aroused that he saw red.
“Mmm.” The man sounded so unaffected even as he thrust in and in and in, kissing Satoru’s shoulders, worrying the pale skin between his teeth until Satoru was sure bruises would blossom. “So good for me. Good for me.”
Satoru gargled and whined. He rutted against the sheets and smeared his spit all over the pillow. As he began to tense up, getting closer and closer to the ledge that at this point, he feared falling from, the man hooked his warm arms around him, around his waist, hugging him closer and comforting him in an unfairly effective way.
“I’m close too,” he murmured, his hot breath fanning Satoru’s ear. “You can cum.”
“I’m gonna—I’m gonna—”
“Shhh, Satoru, let it go.”
“I’m gonna— AHH!"
Satoru’s thighs shook as he spilled into the sheets, and not a second after the man pulled out of him and let out an exhale, something warm spilling on Satoru’s back—he’d come on Satoru’s back—Satoru wheezed, trembling with the bliss of the orgasm and nearly jolting out of his skin when the man’s hand curled down between his legs and curled around his cock, stroking it briskly to milk him down to the very last drop. He whimpered for the final time before going lax; he was so spent, so happy but so spent, and this all still felt like the most absurd fever dream he’d ever had.
“How many fingers am I holding up?”
“Th—three,” Satoru mumbled, snuggling into the man’s chest. He was laying with his back against that toned chest, hands tucked around him, but the man just wouldn’t let him sleep and kept asking him dumb questions.
“Do you feel faint?”
“A bit.” He yawned. “Tired… wanna nap…”
“Satoru, if you feel sick, you must tell me. The drug I gave you shouldn’t give you any allergic reactions, and the side effects are rare, but they’re not nonexistent.” The hand dropped down to caress his hair, and Satoru practically purred, placing the still-cuffed hands against the man’s warm torso. “Would you wish to be untied?”
“That was so hot. You’re so hot.”
“I can take off the cuffs so you can…”
“No, no,” Satoru protested feebly when he felt him tug on his hands, he didn’t want that, “you’re holding me captive, right? So—” another yawn, wider than the earlier one (his ass was aching ), “—so you need to be sure I don’t escape.”
“Mhhmm. I see you are really… into this.”
“There’s just one thing I want, sweetheart,” confessed Satoru: And he couldn't have been more honest, because it was the only thing. Well, aside from the selfish, foolish hope that the man would keep him chained here, just for his own use, just as his own cocksleeve… No, this was just indulging in a mutual fantasy but still, oh god …
“Anything you need,” the man said, kindly.
“Your name. Want your name.”
“Oh!” A pause. The hand stilled in his hair. “Apologies, I should’ve told you earlier.”
“What’s your name?” he said impatiently.
Satoru could hear the smile in his voice. “I’m Suguru.”
“Suguru.” He tasted the word as he closed his eyes, once again relaxing in the man’s embrace, feeling safe and kept. “Suguru, Suguru. Suguru Satoru.” The scent of milk candy. “Our names fit well together.”
“I think so, too,” Suguru replied, kissing his forehead.