Control

[Title] Control
[Series] MPD Psycho
[Pairing] Shinji/Tetora
[Disclaimer] Applies
[Rating] NC-17 for sex with no frills and bad words


The first thing Tetora noticed was the stench of the place. The dark alleyway reeked of trash; a pervasive wafting breeze of discarded sanitary pads, molding napkins, curling sheets of marijuana and the liquefied would-be-baby settling heavy inside the ripping black trash bags. His nose flared and wrinkled as the swill immediately traveled through his nose to lie heavily in the back of his throat.

He was certain that he was being called to the back of this god-forsaken alleyway, because otherwise he wouldn’t be scuffing his new designer boots on the over-spilling feminine shit that this particular alley seemed pre-made for. It was the only reason he continued his shuffling walk through the shining black lumps of garbage, only taking a hand out of the pocket of his sweatshirt to swipe a fly that had crawled precariously near his eye.

Whoever was calling him had to have a pretty fucking good reason to do so, he thought, hand again inside his pocket and fingering the warm barrel of his hidden gun.

This stink is never going to get out of this outfit. And it was a nice outfit, too, courtesy of Sasayama and the rest of his babysitters at the police force. The plaid skirt he had grown quite fond of and now its edges brushed the open tops of the bulking, steaming bags, grime collecting to smear into the fabric and onto the black stockings he wore.

Tetora stopped in front of a rusting door, its puke green paint splintering and peeling in the warm stench of the alley. Droplets of condensation dripped slowly down its surface like sweat.

By that time, he’d decided that he could care less who the person was behind the door, and would shoot the bastard the minute he saw him. He removed both his hands from his sweatshirt pocket, one easily wielding his gun and the other raised to knock on the sweating door, when a voice rang out clear from behind it.

“Come on in,”

The door creaked open easily and revealed an even greater darkness than the alleyway itself. The boy hesitated, narrow eyes searching the dark void that had opened up to him.

“Come on, don’t be shy,”

The darkness didn’t seem to dissipate as his eyes adjusted, staying just as empty and featureless as before.

“Are you scared?”

“Like hell,” he muttered, and stepped into the doorway and into a bright sucking light.

---

Tetora’s pupils dilated painfully in the suddenly white world, the smell that had been eating away at his nerves gone and replaced with a sudden sharp, electric scent of bleach and formaldehyde.

He recoiled instantly, turning to find not the door but a continuing expanse of white behind him.

“What the hell are you wearing, boy?” A voice alighted behind him, and he turned quickly with teeth bared and gun raised.

“I’m fucking annoyed,” Tetora answered, teeth clenched, “Where the hell am I?”

The figure shook his head, distorted despite the glaring clearness of the white expanse, “Annoyed? I didn’t force you to come,”

“Who are you?”
“No,” he again shook his head, beginning to slowly walk around the boy, slim white hands clasped behind his back, “I have a question for you,”

Tetora didn’t respond, watching the other person’s movement with the turn of his head.

“You know why I was calling you,”

“No,”

“Oh, yes, yes you do,” the man stepped closer, seeming to step out of the haze surrounding him and bringing his face close to the boy’s, “I’m the one in control here,”

Tetora wrinkled his nose as the sting of mint-fresh breath swept over his face and he stepped back quickly, gun again pointed in front of him. The man’s hand swiftly gripped Tetora’s wrist, however, and with a well placed twist the bones in the boy’s wrist ground together and his fingers fell apart loosely.

The gun clattered loudly to the ground.

The man’s other hand gripped Tetora’s jaw harshly, and he smiled as realization finally came into the boy’s eyes.

“Nishizono Shinji,”

Shinji smiled, eyes locked onto the equally piercing eyes of Tetora as his fingers trailed up the boy’s jaw and softly forced their way into the boy’s mouth.

“Nngh, yes, Tetora,” Shinji whispered, pulling the boy towards him with the hand around the child’s wrist, “Do you understand what you want?”

Tetora tried to shake his head fiercely to force the invading digits from his mouth, but only managed to spill some saliva down his cheek as the slim fingers traveled smoothly with the movement. Shinji leaned in, mouth lying softly at the bottom of the boy’s left eye, “Do you understand what you are meant to be?”

Somehow, the older man had gotten his knee in between Tetora’s stocking-clad legs, and the boy’s plaid skirt rumpled around the black-clad seat. He could feel the back of his feet lifting off the floor and the rough brush of fabric against his crotch. He had not worn any panties that day, preferred the stockings without them.

Shinji’s fingers left Tetora’s mouth when the boy bit down hard on an especially daring finger that had found itself a little too far back into his throat. This viciousness did not deter the man from his rhetoric, however, and his mouth traveled smoothly down Tetora’s cheek and lodged itself into the boy’s neck, “Tetora,

“You were meant to be controlled,”

Tetora shuddered despite of himself, as the fingers started working up the rim of his skirt and skating his suddenly sensitive ass, “Fuck,”

Shinji chuckled, the sound reverberating inside the crook of Tetora’s neck and he realized how easily the man could kill him now.

The thought made him unexplainably horny.

Screw this, he thought vividly, he wasn’t going to be some timid rape-fodder for this bastard. He wasn’t just going to sit back and be used.
Tetora would prove that he wasn’t controlled, that he would take pleasure from fucking Shinji senseless as much as Shinji would.

He wasn’t an unwilling bitch.

The boy’s body sprang to life as those thoughts ran through his head, and he arched into the large curve of Shinji’s body, neck curving to give the man better access to the white skin of his throat.

Shinji didn’t hide his pleasured moan, mouth opening and tongue lapping the soft skin of the boy’s neck where it met the shoulder.

He dropped the twisted wrist and stood back, Tetora slipping off his knee purposely sensuously, the plaid skirt sliding slowly off Shinji’s leg. The boy looked up expectantly at the man, as Shinji eyed the flushing boy with a smile on his face.

“What the fuck are you wearing, Tetora?”

“Whatever the fuck I want,” he said, and his arms crossed and lifted up his black sweatshirt to reveal the girl t-shirt underneath. It was not long enough to hide his midriff and displayed a sickeningly cute character and just as sickening English. It fit the top of his torso tightly, close enough that the hard stubs of his aroused nipples poked into the fabric.

“You look like a cunt,”

Tetora laughed breathlessly, stepping boldly closer to Shinji and swiftly grabbing one of the man’s large hands, “But I don’t have one,”

The boy led the hand slowly down his stomach, large fingers catching on the belt of his skirt and then further and under, “Touch and see,”

Shinji cupped the boy’s balls with his one hand which disappeared under the plaid red skirt into two spread legs. He gulped when Tetora moaned loudly as his thumb thoughtfully rubbed the erection there, but retained his smirk. Tetora was smirking also, eyes narrowed to watch the limb that disappeared beneath his skirt, letting out bits of laughter along with sudden breathy boy moans.

The man blinked, eyes lifting to stare at Tetora’s face, eyes fanned by long, black eyelashes. The boy had even put hairclips in, his black, glossy hair held out of his face and jagged bangs fanning out around his head. Shinji’s gaze didn’t waver when Tetora’s eyes lifted to meet his own, the boy chewing on his lower lip in feigned utter boredom.

They both could pretend that this was just a game, and in some ways it was, but there was something that was always stirring underneath it. They wanted it, they wanted each other. It wasn’t really a battle of wits, but they’d pretend it was.

Tetora wondered vaguely why he didn’t wear his cherry lip gloss that day.

Shinji withdrew his hand and they both again stared at each other. The man debated in just taking the boy, lifting up that faggot skirt and pulling down those stockings and just fucking him.

The boy smiled feral and broke their gaze, hiking his skirt up to hook his thumbs on the top of his stockings. He slowly began sliding the fabric down, revealing white, slim thighs, but he stopped right before he got to his knees and again straightened to look at Shinji challengingly.

Nishizono Shinji needed no coaxing.

His body was flush against the boy’s in an instant, has hands lowering to grab the hem of the stockings and pulling downward. The hard point of the boy’s erection was lifting the skirt a little, and prodded erotically into Shinji’s hip. It was exhilarating, and when he couldn’t continue pushing down the stockings once they came upon Tetora’s black boots, he kneeled down, face pressing itself into that bulge and fingers fumbling unseen on the buckles of the boots.

Tetora fought the urge to spread his legs farther, waiting until he had finally stepped out of his shoes and the stockings were pulled off rather violently after that. He flinched fleetingly when he heard them tear. He hadn’t wanted to put a run in those stockings for awhile.

Shinji’s hands traveling up his thighs to cup his ass dissipated the slight annoyance, and even more so when the man lowered his neck snake-like to lift the bottom of Tetora’s skirt with his nose.

The man’s mouth sucked greedily onto the base of Tetora’s cock, tongue trying to reach farther and pushing at a spot that was choking the boy’s laughter. A hand left messaging the boy’s rear to skate up the inner thigh and replace Shinji’s sucking mouth when the man moved his head away with the sticky sound of saliva.

Tetora knew he was trembling, wanting to lie down, or at least lean on something as Shinji’s fingers slowly unhooked his belt, then unbuttoned the black buttons of his skirt.

“Turn around,” Shinji rasped, and Tetora gave him a smirk, before turning languidly and raising his ass up in the air before the man. His little hands traveled to it and spread the cheeks along with his legs, cock free and still achingly hard.

Shinji’s tongue careened in between the crack and swirled behind Tetora’s balls, before the boy heard the tell-tale sign of an unzipping zipper. He felt the sticky head push dangerously into his ass, and he noticed his laughter had finally stopped in favor of long moans and blurred expletives.

Shinji Nishizono was huge. It felt like it ripped straight through him, filling and tearing and scraping silkily inside him. Tetora loved it. He loved how his body encased Shinji’s cock, how it felt like he was being skewered. His own cock felt like it was going to explode just by the idea of Shinji inside him.

“Fuck, Shinji,” Tetora managed as the man thrust inside him, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,”

It was getting harder to breathe for Shinji, his length fully inside the small boy that he hated yet wanted to devour ravenously. He wanted Tetora. He wanted Tetora all the time. He wanted Tetora again and again and again. The slutty little boy that could chew off his dick if he really wanted to, and Shinji would still find it arousing.

“You,” Shinji realized he was speaking to the curved spine of the boy, overriding Tetora’s litany of curses, “You just want to be controlled,”

The man slid out before he came, the blood from the forced entry ten times more arousing but at the same time making it harder to keep steady with his frayed nerves. It was all for the best though, because Tetora turned just in time to be covered in the stream of cum.

The boy let out his tongue to catch the falling fluid, and continued lazily to latch his pink mouth onto the lowering appendage, suckling until his own straining cock came only a few moments later and smeared onto his stomach.

Tetora sat back and Shinji stood ramrod straight because he felt that if he sat down he’d pass out. The boy passed a hand across his mouth and let out a whoosh of breath, hand coming down to stroke himself a little in the aftermath. Shinji finally decided to join him and fell down beside him unceremoniously.


Tetora leaned back on his hands, watching Shinji as Shinji looked up at him from his sprawled position on the white floor, slowly dissipating into cold, wet concrete.

The boy could smell dead baby again, but he was used to it by now.

“Feh, tired?” He asked, smirking and crawling to straddle Shinji’s heaving chest and tangle his hands in the man’s damp shirt.

Shinji grinned in return, his hand lifting up Tetora’s girly top,

“Never.”