Ties

Written and posted in "chronological" order. While these short stories in no way contradict each other, they are not intentionally meant to exist in the same universe.

Prompt: youkai_girl, "Taki/Goh, memory/fantasy-- Taki imprisoned by Sandfish arc."
Characters: Taki
Warnings: Spoilers for all of the manga; masturbation.
Summary: Taki awaits the inevitability of his death, however unable to forget the single night he spent with Goh.
Notes: Prize fic for participation in the Yellow Fandom Community Holiday Contest 2007 at the LiveJournal Community, cafe_roost. Takes place during volume 4, Act 14, between pages 77 and 84 (while Kei is talking to Goh and Katsuro is talking to Mizuki). She made me work the word "glans" in here somewhere. Oh, okay, I suggested it...


Resigned

Taki had never cursed before that he was right handed. He'd never been in a situation like this, either. Being chained to a bed wasn't exactly one of his kinks, but he'd made up his mind about this whole ordeal. He was left with only a single regret before the inevitability of his own end.

To see Goh again, to touch him and be touched. They only shared one amazing night together and whenever the quiet of this place, of the choice that he had made, encroached on his resolve, he would remember it, often in vivid detail.

It wasn't that he was preoccupied with sex or was in any way feeling the strain of too many nights without relief; if there was one thing to be said for Taki's luck, or rather skill, it was in the bedroom. He had sex, more to pass the time than for any real enjoyment, but perhaps that was why he had become so hung up on his single night with Goh.

Goh was, of course, his first man, but more importantly, he was his first love. And maybe that was what all those poets and romantics had been talking about: sex with someone you love is different, not just a biological response, but an emotional one. It is far more passionate, full of desire and feelings that he had, before that night, never known or truly appreciated. He understood now, more than ever, how completely foolish he had been for denying it for so long.

Now he craved that feeling more than he was really comfortable with admitting. Goh's touch, his voice, his heat: he remembered them all clearly. It was fitting, he guessed; the frustration he was feeling at this moment was simply an extension of his own choice to leave that warmth, and he knew that he had no one to blame but himself.

Katsuro and Mizuki were out, and he was fairly certain that Kei was gone as well; he couldn't hear the younger man humming or prancing around the flat like he usually did, and he hadn't come in to interrupt Taki's solitude since before his imprisonment. So, it was just him and his dominant hand chained on a bed with memories of soft caresses and gentle ministrations by the only person that he had ever truly come to love.

If he were a less proud man he would be begging right now, for some sort of end to this torture. He would be whimpering in the face of his straining erection and if, God forbid, Kei came in right now and offered to help relieve him with his hands or mouth, he might not refuse a second time.

Instead, Taki simply lay there slouching against the metal at the head of the bed, left hand resting over the front of his pants, just above the zipper. The bruises on his face, where Katsuro hit him, and on his chest, where Mizuki kicked him, burned, but his thoughts burned him more. In his mind Goh was holding him and telling him he loved him. Taki closed his eyes, shutting out the sight of the room and his captivity. His ears tried to compensate, straining to hear any hint that his captors had returned and he would lose this precious moment of fantasy. He could faintly hear the wind outside blowing against the building, but moreso he could hear his own blood pumping through his body and his breath becoming heavier at its own realization.

Clenching his eyes shut further, Taki quickly unbuttoned his pants. He stopped here for a moment, trying to decide whether or not to continue. The frustration was mounting that his right arm was chained, because what he really wanted right now was for Goh to be touching him all over like he was in his head, and barring the real thing he at least wanted to be able to touch himself in more than one place: to create the illusion that he was not alone.

The Goh in his memory was restraining his nervousness and the remnants of his intoxication by audaciously assaulting his chest with lips and fingers. Taki pushed his hand up his shirt front, sliding upwards only to rake back down across his abdomen.

He exhaled sharply. Becoming bolder, Taki took to his zipper, pulling it down as efficiently as possible, hoping the sound against the otherwise silence of the room wouldn't kill this moment for him. He was already achingly hard, and the Goh in his head was taking pity on him and moving down his body to take him into his mouth.

Pushing past hindering clothing, Taki brushed a finger over the glans, stuttering for a moment before rubbing his thumb over the slit. Goh's tongue touched him there. The heat of Goh's mouth surrounded him, took him in and made him cry out in pleasure. Taki's fingers encircled his shaft. He arched up off the bed, ignoring the discrepancy in his memory of the lack of sheets or pillows. His climax mounted quickly, almost violently as he roughly stroked himself. As he reached the precipice he tugged his right arm against his restraint, strangling a moan in his throat. The release he experienced, however, was empty, spilling against his waiting hand, careful not to leave any stains on his clothes.

Breath ragged now, Taki's surroundings crept back in on him. The Goh in his mind faded away, smiling at him as he called his name. A single frustrated tear worked itself out of Taki's eye before he set about wiping his hand off against the underside of the mattress and deftly rezipping and rebuttoning his pants with one hand.

Pulling himself upright finally, Taki leaned his head against the wall. He pulled his chained arm up to rest over the cold steel of the headboard and sighed. There was nothing left to do now but wait for the end to come, resigned to his fate.


997 words
3/17/08