COLD HEART in NEWYORK: Chapter 6

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“Not yet?”

Masahiko leaned forward from the back seat. His father, behind the wheel, smiled and said, “Almost there.” The car jostled sharply, and Masahiko bumped his head against the ceiling with a dull thunk.

“Ow…”

“It’s dangerous to stand up. The road gets winding from here, so sit still.”

Masahiko answered with a drawn-out “Okay,” then settled back into his seat. Beside him, his older brother Masamitsu was reading a manga. The fact that he was a grade-schooler didn’t feel strange, nor did it bother him that their father looked so young. The car continued to rattle and bounce, and Masahiko began to feel a tight, uncomfortable pressure in his stomach. He didn’t understand why. Hunching forward, he was met with Masamitsu’s concerned voice.

“What’s wrong?”

“My stomach feels weird.”

“You probably ate something bad. That’s why—”

His brother’s voice began to fade, like someone slowly turning down the volume. Darkness crept in from all directions until it swallowed everything. The world felt gone, and fear swelled up from the hollow it left behind.

“Dad… Masamitsu…”

He shouted into the void.

“I don’t want to be alone! Where are you?!”

Gradually, like daybreak chasing away the night, light began to return. Something came into focus—something familiar. A ceiling. But… that wasn’t the inside of a car. He had been in a car, hadn’t he? No… that must have been a dream. His dad had been too young. Masamitsu had looked like a kid again.

Then where was he now?

He slowly turned his head left and right. A white wall to his left. Stacked cardboard boxes lined the right side of the room. It felt like a storeroom.

His body swayed gently, just as it had in the dream. The discomfort in his stomach remained. Why was everything moving like this? He tried to lift his head and look down, but pain exploded in his temple, dull and jarring.

“…Ow.”

The swaying stopped. A churning sensation twisted inside him. He recognized that feeling.

“Masahiko.”

A man’s face appeared—Kaito Akizawa. That beautiful, well-formed face, the one that always looked so perfect even up close.

“Masahiko… Masahiko.”

Tears were falling from Akizawa’s eyes, dotting Kusuda’s cheek as he clumsily tried to wipe them away. Then he kissed him. Tongue slid into his mouth, heavy and wet. When Kusuda grimaced at the suffocating kiss, the pain at his temple pulsed again.

“Thank god you’re alive,” Akizawa whispered as he clung to him. The warmth of his skin, the suffocating weight of his body—everything pressed too close. Kusuda’s head was foggy, as if his thoughts were caught in a heavy haze.

What had he been doing?

There were keys jingling… he remembered waiting at some fancy restaurant… flashes of memory floated by. A wilted potted plant. The pain in his temple. Little by little, the fragments began to reattach, bridging the gaps.

What was happening now?

No—what was being done to him?

His legs were spread wide and wouldn’t close. There was something hot and pulsing moving inside him. The moment his mind put the pieces together, his mouth twisted into a scowl.

“Get off me.”

He shoved at Akizawa’s shoulders, but they didn’t budge. The man clung tighter, his body heavy and unyielding. Kusuda’s legs kicked and flailed helplessly, but with Akizawa’s hips wedged between them, all he could manage was a pathetic struggle—like a frog overturned, flailing in the air.

“I said get off me!”

“Don’t struggle.”

The man entangled with him whispered in a voice so sweet it made Kusuda’s skin crawl.

“I’m still inside you… I haven’t come yet.”

As if to remind him of exactly what was happening, Akizawa thrust up hard. A jolt of heat rippled through Kusuda’s lower stomach, and his tightly clenched lips began to tremble. This—this was beyond reason. It wasn’t just some twisted dynamic left over from when they were still dating. He’d been unconscious. They’d already broken up. This wasn’t sex. This was rape. How dare he treat him like this—how much longer did Akizawa think he could get away with turning him into a joke?

Fury like fire surged up in Kusuda’s chest, and he grabbed a fistful of Akizawa’s hair and yanked hard. Let the bastard scream, let him lose clumps—he didn’t care. This was all Akizawa’s fault. All of it. Everything. Akizawa arched backward in pain, and in that moment of imbalance, Kusuda pulled his hips away. There was a wet, obscene squelch, and with it, the friction of something being pulled from inside him. He felt the connection break.

Relief barely had time to form before Akizawa’s hands were around his throat.

He tightened his grip mercilessly, crushing Kusuda’s windpipe with brute strength. It was suffocating. No air. No voice. I’m going to die… He’s going to kill me. I don’t want to die—I don’t want to die—I don’t want to die!! Kusuda thrashed, tried to shake free, but the fingers didn’t budge. His tongue began to seize, his vision narrowed, and just as everything began to slip into black, the pressure suddenly vanished.

A desperate gasp tore through him, air flooding back into his lungs with a rattling inhale.

“Guh—cough—ghh…”

He choked, violently. In the next moment, Akizawa flipped him onto his stomach and seized both his arms. By the time he realized what was happening, his right wrist had been wrapped with a necktie, threaded through the thin iron bars of the pipe bed’s headboard and bound to his left wrist on the other side. No matter how he pulled, it wouldn’t come loose. He was like a man playing tug-of-war against himself. He couldn’t escape anymore. The realization sank into him like lead. A sickening, crushing despair began to rise.

“No—stop—stop it! Let me go!”

“Not happening,” came the voice from behind him.

“If I untie you, you’ll fight.”

Kusuda craned his neck to plead, looking up at the man bearing down on him.

“Let me go. This is rape. Don’t you get that?!”

“This isn’t rape. I love you.”

He felt arms hook under his thighs from behind. Something hot and hard pressed against the narrow space between them. That same thing he’d just managed to force out of himself—it was coming for him again. The fear hit before the revulsion could.

“Why… why won’t you listen to me?”

Akizawa stilled. Then, in a flat voice, he muttered, “Well, you never listen to me.”

There was no getting through to him.

“Please… please don’t make me hate you more than I already do.”

“You don’t love me anyway, do you?”

Akizawa’s voice dropped to a quiet, desolate murmur.

“When I thought I killed you, I really believed I had. My chest hurt so bad I thought it was going to explode. I cried so much. I was heartbroken that you were dead… but at the same time, I was so relieved. I wouldn’t have to hear you say you wanted to leave me anymore. You’d be mine, forever. And the thought made me want to have sex so bad… I wanted to be joined with what was mine…”

Even dead, he would still be desired. Still violated. The sheer madness of that clung to Kusuda like something cold and wet. To Akizawa, as long as their bodies were joined, nothing else mattered. Kusuda realized with dawning horror—this man wasn’t even seeing him. What part of him was he looking at?

“But I’m glad you were alive. If you’d died, you’d just start to rot. And that would’ve been the worst. I’ve never loved anyone this much. No matter how badly you treat me, no matter how much you hurt me, I can forgive you—because it’s you, Masahiko. You’re really, truly special. I can’t do anything about how I feel anymore… so even if you hate me, I don’t care. As long as you’re near me, that’s enough.”

That monstrous love stabbed straight through Kusuda’s heart, cold and violent. His body began to shake uncontrollably, and a dull pain returned to his temple. That fully engorged thing inside him moved again, stroking the raw walls within him in tiny, relentless motions.

It just hurt.

His chest felt like it was caving in.

Kusuda squeezed his eyes shut.

“...Stop... please...”

Akizawa’s hand clamped tight around Kusuda’s flaccid penis, and a high-pitched gasp escaped him.

“You like it when I rub here at the same time, don’t you?”

But no—he didn’t feel anything. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to be touched anymore.

“...Please... just let me go...”

He had begged countless times—for forgiveness, for it to stop—but not once had his pleas been heard. Each violent thrust churned his insides until he couldn’t breathe. His stomach felt like it was being dragged up through his throat. Maybe frustrated by Kusuda’s lack of response, Akizawa had kept rubbing and pulling at his groin until the skin was raw and swollen, inflamed from the friction.

And then, as he finally came inside him again, the man slumped down over his back like a spent animal, panting hot breath against Kusuda’s ear. “I love you, Masahiko,” he whispered.

Kusuda stared listlessly at the green sheets beneath his cheek.

Akizawa’s love—where did it even exist?

He’d strangled him, tied his hands, stripped away his freedom, and forced himself on him. He hadn’t stopped, no matter how many times Kusuda said no. All he’d done was unload his own desire, completely one-sided. That wasn’t love. It was beneath even a beast.

There was not one shred of love in that act.

“...It was my fault,” Kusuda murmured from where he lay, face down.

“You finally get it?” Akizawa’s voice lit up with delight.

It was so pitiful it made him want to cry—but his mouth twisted into something like a smile instead. Warped.

“It was all my fault. Please... forgive me.”

Akizawa gently caressed his cheek. “I’ll forgive you... but only because you’re Masahiko. If it were anyone else, I never would.”

That smug, superior tone didn’t even have the strength left to make Kusuda feel angry anymore.

“Fine. It’s all my fault. Just let me go. I don’t want to be with you anymore. Please… I’m begging you... just let me go.”

If he had to get on his knees, he would. Let him hate him, loathe him, anything—just be done with this.

Silence filled the room.

He couldn’t see Akizawa’s face. After a long, long pause, the man who held all the power finally spoke.

“Masahiko started acting weird... after I slept with someone else, didn’t he.”

His voice was oddly calm, but beneath the surface was a simmering rage.

“I told you to come with me to Okinawa. I said I’d pay for everything. You were the one who turned me down. So why are you the one acting like the victim now?”

“If you still don’t get it, then fine. Just don’t get it.”

Kusuda was too exhausted to argue. Too exhausted to explain. Even if he told Akizawa plainly that his entire worldview was garbage, it would only provoke another tantrum and drag them into another endless, useless cycle of hurt.

The weight on his back disappeared. The bed creaked under shifting weight, the springs shuddering. Kusuda tilted his face to the side just enough to see Akizawa climb off the bed. He got dressed quickly, pulled the cap Masamitsu had given him down low over his eyes, and left the bedroom.

A metallic clack echoed through the apartment—probably the front door closing. Kusuda exhaled shakily and shifted his weight to his elbows. What time was it? Where had Akizawa gone? Maybe to a convenience store… or maybe out drinking, to vent.

When he raised his hips slightly, propping himself up on both knees, he felt a lukewarm sensation sliding down his thigh. The area had gone numb, and whatever was oozing out slid sluggishly down his leg without him even feeling it. It was disgusting. He wanted to scrape it all out, wash himself clean. As soon as possible...

But he couldn’t even get off the bed until the tie around his wrists was removed. He tried fiddling with it, twisting his arms in different ways, but it was no use. The knot had been tied through multiple metal bars at the head of the bed, and the spread between his wrists was too wide. He couldn’t reach across to undo it. Every time he pulled too hard, the knot dug deeper into his raw skin.

He suddenly remembered—it was Masamitsu who had given him this tie as a gift to celebrate his first job. He’d even bragged that it was a design by one of his friends. To be honest, Kusuda had never liked the pattern that much. But clients often complimented him on it, so he’d worn it frequently. Now it was stretched out, frayed, ruined. He’d have to throw it away...

Tears welled up quietly in his eyes. Here he was, stark naked, bound at the wrists with that same tie. What the hell was he doing? This thing he had treasured, this gift from his brother—why had it come to this?

He’d lied to control Akizawa, who was impossible to handle. If this was the price of that initial careless decision, then he’d paid more than enough already. So please—let this be over. Just let me go. Set me free from Kaito Akizawa.

He had started to drift into a daze when the front door creaked open with a mechanical click. His body flinched instinctively. Footsteps overlapped noisily down the hallway. Multiple pairs. He’s not alone. He left me here like this—naked—and brought someone home? He couldn’t believe it. Whatever time it was, it was late. Was Akizawa planning to have them stay over? What if one of them wandered into this bedroom by mistake? There was no way he could let anyone see him in such a shameful, pitiful state.

He dragged a blanket over with his foot, kicking it up to cover his lower half. Just having that bit of modesty helped calm the panic, but the fact remained—he was still bound by the wrists in an undeniably abnormal situation.

Wait. Think. Maybe this was a chance.

If Akizawa’s friends were normal—if they had a shred of common sense—surely they’d take one look at this and realize something was wrong. Maybe they’d yell at Akizawa. Maybe they’d untie him.

Someone, come closer to this room. Please.

No, just lying here waiting for help wasn’t enough. Even if someone saw him like this, as humiliating as it was, it was still his reality. If he wanted freedom, he had to act. Kusuda drew in a breath, deep into his diaphragm, and shouted from the pit of his stomach:

“Somebody!”

“Somebody, please help me!”

The second cry sparked a reaction. Footsteps approached. The door opened—and there stood Akizawa.

Kusuda cursed his own shortsightedness. Of course. If someone screamed inside his home, the one to come running would be the homeowner. Why had he convinced himself it would be one of Akizawa’s friends—people he didn’t even know?

Akizawa approached, still wearing Masamitsu’s hat and a pair of bold, square-rimmed glasses, like some perverse parody of himself. Standing at the bedside, the light behind him cast a shadow that loomed over Kusuda’s face.

“How did you know someone was here?” Akizawa murmured, reaching out to touch Kusuda’s hair. The moment those fingers brushed his scalp, Kusuda turned his head sharply, instinctively rejecting the contact. Akizawa withdrew his hand. There was no second attempt.

“Masahiko,” he said softly, “you’re going to have sex with two men now.”

Their eyes met.

“Since we started dating, I’ve only slept with two other people. If you sleep with two as well, then it’s fair, right? We’re even.”

...What the hell was he talking about?

“Wha... what the hell are you saying?”

His voice shook.

“That way you won’t feel like it’s just me,” Akizawa continued. “You’ll understand it from the other side too.”

“This isn’t about understanding or not understanding! Why the hell should I sleep with some random guys?!”

He shouted at him, and his temple throbbed in protest. It was beyond absurd. What did he mean by fair? As if screwing two strangers would somehow balance the scale. Akizawa’s twisted version of “reparations” could go to hell.

“I’ll bite them and kick them out the second they step into this room!”

“Don’t be so selfish,”

Akizawa’s gentle, coaxing tone sent a chill down Kusuda’s spine.

“I abso–absolutely refuse!”

With a small sigh, Akizawa turned and left the bedroom. That guy’s way of thinking was seriously warped. To justify his own cheating by offering his lover to other men—was he insane? Did he really think Kusuda would be happy with something like that? That Kusuda would just accept it?

Akizawa returned to the bedroom. He wasn’t accompanied by anyone. It seemed he had given up on that deranged plan to make Kusuda sleep with two men, and Kusuda let out a small breath of relief.

"...Take these off already."

He just wanted to go back to his own apartment—but before he could finish saying so, Akizawa tore off about twenty centimeters of duct tape from the roll he was holding. Then, grabbing Kusuda by the jaw to keep his head still, he pressed the strip flat over both his eyes.

“Wha—?”

The world vanished from view. Total darkness. Panic clawed at Kusuda. Terrifying. Terrifying. Not being able to see was terrifying.

“What the hell are you doing?! Take it off!”

His own angry shout echoed hollowly through the room. He couldn’t use his hands. He couldn’t see anything. Akizawa said nothing. The silence was terrifying. Kusuda pressed his face into the sheets. One edge of the duct tape had begun to peel up just slightly. What the hell kind of torment is this… he thought—and then a hand grabbed his hair.

“Ow—!”

Over the loosening edge, something was wrapped around him, round and round, like a bandage...

Was it to stop him from peeling it off again? Had Akizawa wrapped the tape around multiple times to ensure he couldn’t remove it?

Dark. So dark. Even knowing he was still in Akizawa’s bedroom, Kusuda felt like he’d been dropped into a bottomless pit. If someone held a knife to his throat now, he wouldn’t even see it. He wouldn’t know.

“What the hell do you want from me?!”

Something slapped against his mouth with a sticky smack. Tape again? …The moment he realized it, it was too late—his mouth was already being wrapped tightly, round and round.

His sight and his voice were taken from him. He couldn’t see anything. He couldn’t call for help. Kusuda trembled violently. Scared. Scared. Why is he doing this? Could it be… was Akizawa planning to kill him?

This was a man who had hit him. Strangled him. One wrong move and he would’ve died.

If he blocked his nose now, Kusuda would suffocate. He’d die. No, no, no, no— he didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to be killed.

"Hff, hff," he forced breath out through his nose, squeezing it from the pit of his stomach. "I don’t want this. I’m scared." The only place left that could still express his fear was his breathing.

"I once co-starred with a dog," Akizawa’s voice rang out right beside his ear, and Kusuda flinched. He hadn’t even realized Akizawa was that close.

"When dogs get excited, they snort through their noses like that," he said.

The floor creaked beneath shifting weight. A door shut. He was… gone? Had he really left the room?

He hadn’t blocked his nose. Thank god. He didn’t kill me. Not yet, at least.

Why had he covered his eyes and mouth like that?

…Ah. Of course. It was because Kusuda had screamed. He’d done it to make sure he couldn’t call for help again. That’s all. To silence him.

As he moved his fingers, Kusuda suddenly realized—his wrists were bound, yes, but his fingertips could still move. If he could just reach his face with one hand, he might be able to peel the tape off. Scooting himself upward against the headboard, his right hand brushed the tape over his mouth. It had been wrapped round and round like a mummy, but if he could work patiently at the edges…

Bang—the door flew open. Kusuda immediately pulled his hand away in a panic. If he caught him trying to peel it off, he might tape over his fingers next.

Footsteps echoed in, not just from one place—but from different directions. Random, uneven. It wasn’t just Akizawa.

How many people just came in? Who the hell are they?

At this point, it didn’t matter who. Let anyone see him like this—bound, gagged, blindfolded. There was no world in which this didn’t look completely deranged. Someone had to realize that. Someone had to say something. Please, say something.

Kusuda tried to scream “Help!” but the sound choked in his throat, muffled by the tape, and came out as a guttural groan—“Uuuhhh!”

The blanket covering his lower half was ripped away with a loud flutter. Cold air kissed his bare skin. The only thing he’d managed to shield himself with, and it was gone. Why? Why did Akizawa need to humiliate him this far? When will it be enough?

A sharp whistle pierced the silence.

"Your skin’s pretty nice. He said you were around thirty, right?"

The voice came from the foot of the bed. It was high-pitched, but unmistakably male. It wasn’t Akizawa.

"He's pretty tall, too."

This time, it was a low, rasping voice from near Kusuda’s head.

Who the hell are you?! Where’s Akizawa?!

"Aren’t we gonna get his boyfriend in here to watch?"

The low voice again.

"He said he might come if he feels like it. Let’s just get started already~," the high-pitched voice declared.

The words dropped like stones into a void. Kusuda’s mind reeled.

Get started with what—?

An unknown dread rose in him, and then suddenly his right buttock was grabbed, and his body shuddered. Fingers dug deeply into the flesh of his buttock. No, don’t touch me! Still facedown, Kusuda tried to twist his hips away, but the fingers didn’t let go.

"You move your hips so unsexy. Seems like you're sensitive enough, but damn, you feel used up. Should’ve at least had him take a shower first."

The fingers that had sunk into his right buttock kneaded him roughly, gouging into him. The terror of being touched in the dark. Whose was that hand? Who were these men? He couldn’t even ask. Couldn’t even escape. Scared. Disgusted. Don’t touch me! Kusuda twisted his hips forcefully to turn onto his side, and finally the hand let go.

He understood now. These were the two men Akizawa had talked about. The ones he said he would arrange to match the number of people he himself had cheated with. The worst. He didn’t need this. He didn’t want this. It meant nothing. Hadn’t he said he didn’t want it? Hadn’t it been called off? Maybe Akizawa had sealed his mouth and eyes so he couldn’t resist or make a scene when these men raped him?

"What, flashing your dick like that? You want us to touch it? You’re a real slut, huh," the high-pitched voice sneered as Kusuda hastily turned facedown again. No, no, no. He didn’t want to be touched by these guys. He didn’t want this. He didn’t even know what kind of people they were. He couldn’t see them. Why should he have to let himself be used by such strangers? No way he would let these guys stick themselves into him. He would rather die. He would die first.

Something thick and slimy slid between the sheet and his lower abdomen. Startled, Kusuda tried to lift his hips, but his penis and scrotum were grabbed as if bitten. The terror of having his most vulnerable place seized made his heart contract violently. "Nnnh!" He groaned. No. Don’t grab me there. Let go! Let go! He pushed up onto his knees, trying to lift his hips. Even as he twisted, the fingers gripping him wouldn't let go.

"Not just your dick, your balls are pretty big too," one of them said, laughing. Still holding him, they squeezed and kneaded roughly. It hurt. His penis, already swollen and rubbed raw by Akizawa, stung painfully at the touch. It really hurt. Kusuda shook his head violently. It hurts, it hurts... Please, stop. I’ll pay. I’ll pay anything...

Even while they rubbed his penis, he felt a hand groping up toward his chest, and he flinched. His consciousness, until now entirely focused on his lower body, was scattered. His nipple was pinched sharply and pulled. His shoulder jerked involuntarily. He didn’t want that either. Hands roamed all over his body, sticky and unordered. It was disgusting. It hurt. Something touched the tightly closed entrance behind his scrotum. It pressed inward, and he gasped. Something thin was worming its way in. Squirming, writhing. No, no, no.

"You can’t be satisfied with just a finger, right? Your hole’s already nice and loose. You want something thicker, don’t you?"

The bed springs creaked as something loomed over him from behind. A human presence. An unfamiliar smell. When Kusuda tried to bend forward to escape, his hips were grabbed and yanked back. Something hot and hard poked at his scrotum. No. He didn’t want this. He was scared. Terrified. Help me, help me...

"Hey, hey, settle down," came a voice, and with a sharp smack, pain burst across his buttocks. Like whipping a racehorse, smack, smack, he was struck again. No... I don’t want this. As he flailed his legs, his scrotum was suddenly gripped tightly. His whole body stiffened under the force.

"Don’t struggle. If you don’t behave, I’ll crush these and turn you into a little kitty," the voice said, and the fingers squeezing him pressed even harder. A chill ran through him. He really might... be crushed.

"Just stay still like that." Something hot pressed against his entrance. Who was this? Why was this happening? Please, stop... Slowly, his body was forced open. Don't put it in. No, no, no. He didn’t want to have sex with a man he didn’t even like.

Ignoring Kusuda’s will, the hot mass pressed in with a slow grind, scraping his insides. This was different. Smaller than Akizawa’s. It wasn’t Akizawa’s.

"Figures you're used goods. I mean, for all that struggling, you sure take it easy." Both his nipples were pinched hard, and Kusuda gave a strangled scream through his nose. "Whoa," someone said behind him. "This is good. Damn, he’s tight. His boyfriend really trained him up good."

That seemed to flip a switch, and the man began thrusting violently. Huffing and panting like a dog, he drove deep into Kusuda's body. Their joined flesh made obscene wet sounds, squelch, squelch. It hurt. It felt sickening. His head swam, spinning and whirling.

Little by little, he couldn’t tell what was happening anymore. What was being thrust into him? Whose fingers were playing with his nipples? What was the warm, slimy place swallowing his penis? He couldn't see. He couldn't understand. It felt like drowning in a pitch-black swamp. Nipples, ribs, pubic hair, penis, scrotum, anus—hands and fingers touched everything, stirring him up, tearing him apart, ripping him into shreds.

He was crumbling into chunks of flesh, sinking to the bottom of some dark water. It hurt. Help me. Help me... He couldn’t cry out. He couldn’t stretch out his hands. He couldn’t even beg for help, only thrash around helplessly. His mind... was breaking.

Don’t think. Don’t think about anything. You mustn’t think. This is just a dream. You’re just having a bad dream. There’s no way this could be real. Having your freedom taken away, being raped by strangers — that kind of thing couldn’t possibly happen in real life. This is a dream. Because it’s a dream, it’s okay not to be hurt. There’s no need to feel pain. When you wake up, surely none of this will have happened. Akizawa is a cruel man, does cruel things... so maybe he’s just making you see an even crueler dream so you’ll be able to endure it...

In the dream, the restraint on his right wrist was undone. Ah, he was free. But the relief lasted only an instant — his right arm was twisted behind him and bound together with his left. His hands could move even less than before. While still connected below, his body was yanked upright. The shift in angle gouged something inside him, and Kusuda threw his head back with a muffled cry.

His back pressed against another body. Leaning into him, he was forced to sit, and in that position, his legs were lifted and rocked up and down. The motion scraped at his insides, and his rear burned. Something hot and hard brushed against his cheek. After a few strokes against him, something splattered wetly. The lukewarm, sticky mess was smeared across his face. Even though it was supposed to be a dream... there was a smell. The smell of a male.

"I wanna make him suck me, but he might bite," said the high-pitched voice, and a finger traced across his sealed mouth.

"Better not," came the low voice. "More importantly, like you said, he’s got incredible flexibility down here."

Fingers pried at the place where they were joined, something slipping inside. Even though it already hurt, whatever it was dug in even deeper, forcing him open. Scared. Terrified. How far were they going to stretch him? A sharp pain ran through him, and Kusuda jerked his upper body, letting out a strangled moan.

"With this, we could both fit in," whispered the low voice.

Both...? Fit in...? What were they talking about?

"For real?"

"I've done it a few times. If he's this soft, it’ll be easy."

The place already stretched painfully was being forced even wider. It hurt. It was suffocating.

"Double penetration’s the real thrill of a threesome. Let’s not hold back~."

It wasn’t just from behind anymore; a presence pressed down on him from the front as well. Heat touched the place that had been forced open. With a wet sound, something began to push inside. The overwhelming pressure, on a completely different level from before, stole his breath. It hurt—damn, it hurt. His entrance stung and burned. Stop it, stop it, it’s going to tear, I’m going to die... Ignoring his terror, they pushed in even deeper. Scared, scared, scared.

"Nnnh, nnnh, nnnh!!!"

Unable to bear it, he groaned.

"Be a good boy and relax your body. It'll feel better if you do," a voice coaxed him.

But it hurt—it hurt so much. His entrance was in agony. Even though he was already filled to bursting, they kept pushing in, deeper and deeper.

"That’s it, good boy," the low voice whispered from behind. Around the part that had been forced open so horribly, numb from the pain, he felt someone slowly stroking him.

"You’ve swallowed both cocks already. Look how you’re twitching so happily. What a filthy, sexy ass you have," someone said.

Kusuda’s chest trembled. What... what was this?

"You love cock, don’t you? Go ahead and savor it all you want," the high-pitched voice urged.

He... couldn’t move. There was no way he could move. Even though it hurt, even though it stung sharply, he couldn’t move.

"Like a dead fish, huh. Guess there’s no helping it," the high-pitched voice muttered, and suddenly he was slammed upward from the front. The searing pain felt like his body was being ripped apart from the inside, and Kusuda violently shook his head from side to side. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt, it hurt. He didn’t want this. Help me, help me—Masamitsu, Tohru... anyone, please... Akizawa...

"Nnnh, nnnh, nnnh!"

He shook all over, struggling to resist. This time, a brutal thrust came from behind. His body was rocked back and forth from both directions, and the pain never stopped. Please stop, it really hurts. His ass was going to break. It would absolutely break. He was going to die.

Terror swelled inside him, and unable to bear it anymore, he released at the tip. The lukewarm fluid gushed out with a squelching noise, soaking his lower body.

"Ugh, what the hell are you doing?! That’s filthy, disgusting," one of them cried out.

The thing tormenting him yanked out with a plop. And yet, the fear continued pouring out of him.

"Guess it felt so good you pissed yourself. How cute," someone sneered.

It felt like a slug was slithering inside his ear, leaving behind a sticky, wet trail.

"I’m not into that scat kink shit. And the smell—hell no. Absolutely can’t do it," the high-pitched voice complained.

The thing still inside him slid out with a slick, unpleasant sound. Once his arms were released, Kusuda collapsed forward like a puppet with its strings cut. The sheets touching his stomach were wet.

Someone grabbed his waist and lifted him off the bed. He curled up on the hard floor.

"Come on, get up," someone said.

He was kicked in the back, but his hips gave out and he couldn’t even get onto all fours. Perhaps seeing that he couldn’t move, someone picked him up. He was being taken somewhere. The place echoed with voices. His whole body was smeared with something slimy under the pretext of "washing him," while they groped him all over. Warm water fell from above. Maybe because the tape was soaked and starting to peel, the hot water seeped through the gaps and wetted his lips. Using the tip of his tongue, he pried at the duct tape to widen the opening. As the space grew, his lips began to move.

"...He...lp me..." he pleaded desperately.

The high-pitched voice laughed, "Hey, he’s talking."

He braced himself to be silenced again, but for some reason, the tape was completely removed. And a few seconds later, he understood the reason for this "freedom."

"Hey, suck my dick. I’ll say this first: if you bite me, I’ll crush your balls," the high-pitched voice threatened, stepping on Kusuda’s scrotum.

Terrified of resisting—simply terrified—he opened his mouth. His hair was grabbed, and the thing, smelling faintly of soap, was rammed straight into the back of his throat. He couldn’t breathe. He felt sick. He was suffocating... suffocating... and until the man ejaculated, Kusuda was forced to suck him so hard it felt like his jaw would break.

Still wet, he was taken somewhere else again. It wasn’t the bed. After being used twice more on what seemed like a sofa, he was pinned against a wall and raped from behind while standing. Then, like a dog on the carpet, he was forced onto all fours and violated in both his ass and his mouth at the same time.

If he resisted, he would be hit. He would be treated even more cruelly. He didn’t want to suffer any more pain. So he didn’t resist the words being fed into his ears. If they told him to suck, he sucked. If they told him to swallow, he swallowed that bitter, salty thing. If they told him to say something dirty, no matter how filthy the words, he repeated them like a parrot.

He wasn’t himself anymore. Not a shred of pride remained. More than that, he was terrified—terrified to the core—of the punishments, the retaliation that would come if he resisted. Even if this was just a dream...

"You really are adorable," a rough low voice whispered from behind, as their bodies piled over his, and one of them seized his penis and scrotum tightly.

"Don't... I don't want this. I'm scared," he protested, but the low voice only chuckled.

"You like it rough, don’t you. It’s been a long time since I found someone whose body fits me this well. When your boyfriend asked me in that shop if I’d sleep with his lover for money, I thought it sounded interesting, but I wasn’t expecting much. I figured you’d just be some average guy. But then you turned out to be this cute. It’s not fair, really. I should be paying him for this."

Something thick was thrust against his still-stretched entrance.

"Ah— no—"

His face was tilted upward, and he was kissed violently, loudly enough to make wet noises.

"Your boyfriend’s watching you getting fucked with a face like a demon. His glasses are dorky, but he kinda looks a little like the actor Kaito Akizawa," someone said, as his tongue was pulled out and lightly nibbled.

"I’m not really into rape scenarios, but you... you really suit being bullied and treated cruelly. You stir up my sadistic side. I can understand why your boyfriend would want to watch you being abused," the low voice murmured between slippery kisses.

"Let’s meet again behind his back. Next time, I’ll take my time and use all kinds of things to torture you properly."

Before he realized it, the damp breathing, the body heat next to him—everything had disappeared. No one’s hands were touching his body anymore. No one was yanking at his penis or forcing him open.

It was dark. It was silent.

"Lift your head," someone said.

Before he even thought about it, Kusuda lifted his face. A hand touched the back of his head, peeling away the duct tape with a rip, rip. It was more firmly stuck to his face than his hair, and as the adhesive peeled off, it stung a little.

Sensing brightness, he slowly opened his eyes. The light was dazzling. Finally, he had woken up from the nightmare. It was just a bad dream. It wasn’t real.

Akizawa’s face entered his field of vision, casting a shadow.

"Your temple’s bleeding again," Akizawa said, touching his cheek gently with a sorrowful expression.

From those vivid red eyes looking down at him, tears spilled and burst softly over Kusuda’s nose.

"It hurt, watching you being fucked by other guys," he said, his lips trembling.

No—it wasn’t like that. He hadn’t had sex with anyone else. It was just a dream. Don’t say things like it was real!

"My chest felt like it was going to burst. I wanted to kill the guys who were putting their dicks inside you. You're mine, Masahiko... it hurt so much," Akizawa said, clenching his right fist tightly and letting out a small breath.

"Now I finally understand. Why you were so furious when I slept with someone else. If you really love someone, it hurts so much when they have sex with someone else. You were hurting, just like I am now. But... that just proves how much you loved me, doesn’t it? That’s why I’m happy. Even though it hurts, I’m happy," he said, tears flowing like a small river across Kusuda’s cheek.

Kusuda’s hands were still bound behind his back, unable to move, unable to wipe the tears away. Akizawa leaned in close to Kusuda’s wet cheek and, as if sucking them up, licked away his tears.

"Just like you suffered, I suffered too. Now we’re even, right? So forgive me. I love you, Masahiko. I only have you now," Akizawa whispered as he stripped off his pants. When it sprang free—fully aroused—Kusuda felt a wave of despair.

You said it hurt to watch. You said you wanted to kill the ones who touched me. And yet you’re hard. That’s how it really is, isn’t it...

His legs, trembling and limp from exhaustion, were ruthlessly forced apart. The thoroughly violated, loosened place was pressed against with taut, eager lust.

...He was going to come inside. He couldn’t take it anymore.

"Ah... ah, no—"

He thought he’d lost all sensation, but the pain still reached him clearly.

It throbbed dully. Akizawa was big, after all. Each time he was rocked, a searing pain tore through him—something he had never felt before.

Somewhere... he must have been injured. It hurt. Tears welled up. Wasn’t the nightmare already over?
Hadn’t he woken up already...?

"Hey, Masahiko. Talk like you did before. Beg for it all slutty, saying 'Your cock is so big, it feels so good, give me more, more.'"

Kusuda shook his head side to side, like a child refusing something.

"Why would you listen to those guys and not me? I’m your boyfriend," Akizawa said.

It hurt when he moved. He didn’t want it anymore. But he was scared... He didn’t want to make Akizawa angry again, didn’t want to be treated even rougher, so he forced himself to say the words Akizawa demanded.

The thrusting grew even harsher. His insides throbbed painfully. It hurt so much that Kusuda broke into hiccupping sobs.

After pulling out the brutal thing, Akizawa, whose penis was still leaking semen, rubbed it against Kusuda’s abdomen and whispered into his ear. The words "I love you" felt like nothing more than a curse now.

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