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Love is Immolation of the Self

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It had been just shy of a year since Makoto started working at D’s brothel. Catering as a waiter, being hospitable to guests, getting to know just how he could manipulate his posture or behavior to please his clients, all of these things he had slowly come to learn as the heavy curtain of calming incense became caked into his skin.

After almost a year of adjusting, of forgetting his past life, he tried to make the most of it. 

Which meant it had been almost a year since he last saw J.

The thought itself would make some bitter, some resentful, but Makoto saw it as a challenge of sorts. Maybe if he worked hard enough it would vie the attention of the elusive Archduke. But who was he kidding, he himself hadn’t reached out so it wasn’t like he had any proof J was avoiding him on purpose. A large part of him screamed that he needed to prove something to him before they next met. And that’s what made him throw himself into his new life here with D and the incense children. 

It was J who said learning through experience was more useful than studying and reading.

Makoto wiped the giddy excitement off his face. He needed to compose himself for his incoming client, after all. Some royalty big-wig count who enjoyed the power trip of a lesser demon submitting beneath them. He was actually one of the regulars that Makoto didn’t mind as much. The more he observed, the more insecurities began to show in his cracks. Makoto had long since learned his role in all of this, learned to swallow his pride but also know when and what to speak. 

Gathering intel was no easy feat, and he had long since learned that catering to one's ego will loosen the tongue. His current client was always quite talkative afterward, which was partially why he was so eager today.

The large door slid open, and Makoto blinked away any thoughtful expression he may have had, pasting on one of innocence he knew this demon liked.

… 

“Say, do demons celebrate birthdays?” 

It was no secret, especially amongst his regulars, that Makoto had once been human even if he no longer smelled like one. But that hardly mattered since he was tied to J. D-san’s brothel was high class enough that the stratified society kept people in place. Things like royalty and lineage mattered to the demons who came here.

The two lay naked on the plush bed afterward, Makoto running a finger up his client’s arm in invisible lines. Even though the room was already stuffy with incense, the other still chose to drag a cigar. Makoto watched as the smoke danced in the air while the demon looked at him quizzically.

“What a strange question,” his client snickered and shook his head. “When you live as long as I have, things like that don’t matter.”

Makoto chewed on that for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek before returning his focus. Remembering his place, he laughed and slipped his doe-eyes back on, suavely waving his hand to physically dismiss the thought. Smoke curled around his hand. “Forgive me, it was just a random thought. Shall we continue?”

A sickeningly toothy smirk spread across his lips, and Makoto knew that if he had seen that months earlier, he would have shivered in fear, but by now he had grown used to it. Now, instead of spikes of fright or uncertainty, he had to squash down the image of J that rose in his head. So many faces he’s seen, but all of them just reminded him of J…

Throughout his time here he had learned that J was at least hundreds of years old, so that meant they at least kept track. Makoto’s lips thinned in contemplation, his gaze subconsciously drifting to his discarded clothes on the dresser. The pendant that J gave him for his birthday lay neatly folded on top. If they don’t celebrate their birthdays but still count them…

This may be just the thing he needed to surprise J.

“Hey, D-san, when is J’s birthday?”

The suddenness of the question as Makoto plopped himself into the lounge startled D, who quickly put on a show of calculated thought. The demon sported no facial organs but Makoto felt the weight of being studied as a hot spotlight on him.

“Demons don’t go about parading themselves for something as naive as a birthday, Makoto,” D metaphorically rolled his eyes, putting down his book of inventory. 

Makoto waved him off excitedly. “I know, I know. But I still want to know when it is.”

D scoffed, crossing his arms to dismiss him. “And why would I know it?”

“If anyone did, you would.”

Makoto let his most shit-eating grin shine through. After all the time that had passed D had warmed up to him, and Makoto found the banter between them refreshing against the monotonous routine of his schedule. But even more importantly, he knew D had a soft spot for things concerning J.

After a stretch of tense silence and deliberation, and Makoto standing his ground, D relented. “Fine, brat. As it happens, it’s actually in a few weeks. Not that it really matters, though.” Makoto grinned in satisfaction, and D picked his ledger back up, waving him off. “If you’ve got free time to ponder such nonsense, go change out the sheets in room 105. Lord P was in there last and you know how deep his slime gets into the duvet.”

It was a duty reserved for the unfortunate, but Makoto couldn’t find himself to sulk or care one bit at the moment. He beamed towards D as he strode out of the lounge. “Yes, sir!”

A few days had passed and Makoto had mostly been lost in thought, living on routine and autopilot while he mapped out a plan behind the curtain of his eyes.

What J liked… What J liked… 

Dressed to the nines in his water uniform, Makoto helped set a large table with extravagant platters of food. A large banquet was going to be held here, and the giant hall was mostly empty save for the bustling of incense children also arranging decadent centerpieces, lighting elaborate incense fountains, amongst other things.

There was a clatter about, but Makoto’s mind wandered to the food before him. The display reminded him of the one time J set out a feast the night he met Fjord and asked to be friends with him.

What food did J like?

That evening featured a large variety of dishes. Makoto tried to recall which ones J had reached for. At the time he had been too distracted by all that had happened, his brain cluttered and swamped with impending thoughts, of the sheer volume of it all. His face flushed; It was embarrassing to admit that he was more focused on J than the food he ate that night, too.

His feet carried him over the plush but not too shaggy red carpet as he attended to his duties, retrieving another platter of food. This time a large cooked poultry adorned with all kinds of spices was steaming off the decorated tray. 

Of course he revisited that scene over and over in his head. He replayed all of the moments he shared with J now that he realized just how fleeting those were. The smell of cooked meat hit his nose, sure, but his feet stalled. He knew that smell. Makoto blinked, staring at the dish when it hit him.

That night, J definitely devoured a dish similar to this one. His nose and eyes confirmed the hazy details of a memory he grasped on to desperately. 

Makoto smiled, tapping his fingers along the underside of the tray as he carried it across the hall. An idea struck him, and it put a bounce in his step, letting the daydream he’d been entertaining for the past days take root in him, burrowing and becoming real as he formulated.

Double-checking the schedule in his head, he nodded to himself. He would need to call in some favors soon.

Apparently, it was no secret Makoto had been up to something. D had called him out many times the past couple of days, grumbling under his breath how he better not be up to anything, but as long as he keeps up with his duties… 

Makoto could definitely admit that he had been spacey as of late, but had refused to relent what it was about for the time being, not until he had it all sorted out. And finally a week later, with conviction stirring in his guts he called for both D and Fjord to meet with him. The three sat in the lounge, eager to hear what he had to say. D crossed his arms and legs, tapping them amusedly while Fjord beamed at him with a smirky grin across from him.

“So, are you finally going to tell me what you’ve been so distracted by?” D hummed half-humoredly.

“Yeah, what’s with the sudden summons?” Fjord prodded, a mischievous glint showing across his face.

Makoto straightened up, clearing his throat to begin. “A quick question first. What does J like?”

Not a beat of silence passed when Fjord repeated, “What does he like?” He laughed openly and shook his head as if it were obvious. “You, of course.”

Makoto rolled his eyes, but couldn’t suppress the bashful smile or the blush that crept up hot on his neck. “I’m being serious.”

“I am serious.” Fjord reached over to punch him on the shoulder, the playfulness never leaving him.

D groaned, pulling their attention. “I hate to admit it, but you are the object his mind frequents. After your first trip here he gushed to me for an hour about how you ate his tongue.” Makoto squeaked and he shook his head, scoffing but more exasperated than anything. “Truly, it’s disgusting what you two do behind closed doors. I don’t want to hear about those sorts of things… but it’s true that ‘apple of his eye’ as they say.”

Makoto deliberated on this before leaning forward, face determined. “I need a favor from you two. For J.”

This piqued their interest. As Makoto spoke, the pair sat wide-eyed and bemused, listening and offering their own suggestions. Makoto was astonished at how much better his plan became the more they talked. As the night dragged on, sparks of excitement stirred in his gut, the more real this plan became. He trusted them with the logistics and the rest, and after some negotiation, they concluded. Makoto stretched, relieving his aching muscles from sitting for so long.

As they started to disperse, Fjord eagerly stood up and grinned down at him. “He’s gonna love this.”

Makoto never had anyone in his human life that he could truly have called a friend. He was unsure what D and Fjord were to him, too, but he found himself thinking it was a comfort to be able to rely on them.

 


 

To say J hadn’t an inkling as to why he had been summoned to Datenshou’s brothel would be a lie, but he kept those thoughts to himself when he stepped out of his carriage and into the extravagant foyer.

He and Datenshou exchanged pleasantries, but it was curt, and J would have pried for more if he didn’t find himself being paraded around amusing. As he was swiftly ushered down the large hallways he wondered how his Mako-chan was doing. The thought brought a smirk to his face, but he couldn’t ponder for long. Soon he was stopped at the large banquet hall doors, their engraved panels closed shut.

A perk of his eyebrow must have spelled out all Datenshou needed to know. He just turned his back to the door and pointed toward it. “The reason you’ve been summoned here is beyond those doors. Try not to enjoy yourself too much, will you?

J laughed and placed a hand on Datenshou’s shoulder, winking down at him as he reached for the handle. “No promises.”

The doors were heavyset as he pulled them open, the weight slowing down the moment. Time stagnated, the scene revealing itself when the doors slid open inch by inch until it was all presented before him.

And suddenly there was no one else in existence besides him and this banquet hall. For how could anything besides the sight in front of him matter anymore? It was a dangerous thought; it might get him killed one day.

He couldn’t find it within himself to care.

 

Makoto’s eyes met his, wide yet dilated, the red on his face reaching his ears. J couldn’t help the wide grin stretching across his lips as he took in the boy. Thick ropes gagged his mouth taut and sturdy, leading back around his head like a pair of reins. They connected in intricate knots leading towards his bound hands and feet; the boy was hogtied, naked, and put on display as a centerpiece on the banquet hall’s main dining table. Naked… except for the pendant he gifted him fitting snugly around his neck. His flexed position with his chest arching off the table made the pendant shine on full display. 

It was an enchanting sight.

Surrounding him lay a plethora of other dishes, the various spices of slow-roasted meats rested thick in the air. The table itself was decorated in complementary flora of exotic diversity, not a square inch of the surface left bare. It was a feast for a king.

It had been quite some time since he’d last seen the boy, but this surpassed his expectations. And for Makoto to be at the center of it all, eyes searching his, already trembling with lust…

They broke contact when the boy’s head nudged the best it could towards a card displayed at the head of the table. 

J smiled innocently, tutting at himself. “How rude of me for staring,” he sauntered closer, drawing out the moment. He knew what he was doing, and the shiver of anticipation along Makoto’s exposed spine gave him a rush of satisfaction. J picked up the card addressed elegantly to him. Before opening it, he sent the boy a wink. “I just couldn’t help myself.”

Enclosed in thick cardstock, Makoto’s handwriting bore a message in ink. J’s gaze slid over to Makoto, who looked at him eagerly, then read.

 

J,

Happy birthday.

I know demons don’t celebrate silly things such as that, but I couldn’t help but want to do something special for yours. 

I may not be sure of many things here still, but I want to surpass your expectations. It’s selfish, but I hope no one has ever given you a birthday present before so this one can be special.

With the help of D-san and Fjord, I am your birthday present today.

You’ve given me rewards for my hard work and I want to give you one for your own. I’m sure you’re constantly working hard as an Archduke.

So, enjoy yourself tonight and eat well.

From, Mako-chan

 


 

Makoto clung to J as he read his letter, watching as his eyes danced as he read each line, searching for any changes in his demeanor. Cardstock covered the majority of his face, obscuring almost all expression. Makoto would frown if it weren’t for the rope gag, so he just bit it harder in concentration while he continued to take J in. He didn’t even know what he was looking for, but he still desperately bound himself to analyze the other.

The ropes dug into his skin, though it was just as Makoto had asked of Fjord. The two demons had helped set up this occasion; they made it possible. Without them, Makoto couldn’t have been able to pull this off, and for that he was grateful. However, as soon as J pushed open those heavyset doors and laid eyes on him, suddenly nothing else mattered.

Makoto hadn’t been able to look away since.

In an instant, J snapped the card shut, knocking Makoto out of his thoughts. Ambling around the table, his expression was unreadable. Makoto’s eyes strained to follow him since his neck stretched against the confines, eventually leaving his vision entirely. But his presence stark in his perception, he could feel J analyzing all of this before him. Without visual confirmation, his mind desperately clung to the shuffle of his clothing, the weight of his pawed footsteps, his mind’s eye filling in the blank as he imagined what J was doing while he circled the table.

“Oh my, Mako-chan,” J’s voice echoed terribly, drowned in a purr that sent a shiver hot down his back. Imagining the devious grin the demon bore, how he may have brought up a hand to his chin, or how maybe he was bent at the waist to observe him, all of the possibilities culminated to make Makoto exhale shaky breaths. “You’ve certainly outdone yourself.”

Pride blossomed in Makoto’s chest and he couldn’t help but whine against the rope. He heard J chuckle from somewhere behind him while the footsteps kept circling. There was a tapping of fingers to his side in a calm, pondering rhythm. The next words played off of J’s tongue languidly. “I wonder where I should start. Lucky for me, I’m quite ravenous today.”

Makoto shivered once more, his eyes sliding shut as he imagined what expression J was making. Even if he couldn’t see him he knew that tone and the hunger it entailed. Suddenly, J seemed to loom over him. The ruffling of his clothes, the shifting of his feathers, the sheer weighted presence of him brought static electricity along his skin; he could tell he was there without having any tangible proof that he was. 

“You’re right about one thing Mako-chan,” J whispered into his ear, and Makoto swallowed back his surprise. It was a heavy lump in his throat as sweat now started to gather from his strained position. Any noise he made he was sure J could hear it closely. “It is my birthday, and I suspect I will be eating well tonight. Did you set all this up just for me?”

The vibrations from his command muddled Makoto’s mind, a high so all-encompassing it engulfed him. The ropes dug into his skin, the strain of maintaining this position a constant reminder of where he was and what he was doing. If J’s voice sent him to see stars, then the snug fit of ropes dragged him right back into the moment. He couldn’t move even if he wanted to, and couldn’t speak either, so with a muffled mhmm he did his best to respond.

Bouncing back, J excitedly applauded him, the small claps resonating against the empty banquet hall. “Well done, Mako-chan! I’m impressed you managed to convince Datenshou to lend you the resources for such a feast! And I can see Fjord’s work shine through as well.” Warmth spread through him, the approval intoxicating.

“But,” J shifted back to the weighted teasing tone, his voice suddenly right into his ear once more, “none of this would have been possible without your input. Was this your idea?”

Makoto nodded the best he could, the rope blistering the corners of his mouth. But he didn’t care, not when the attention made his head swim. Hot air tickled his ear and when J licked a long stripe of the outer shell, his body quivered wholly.

“Good boy.”

Uttered just low enough for only Makoto to hear, even though they were alone, the approval forced a moan from him, muffled by the rope. While he had been waiting, the ropes were a comfort, he didn’t really care for them besides how it made him look. But now, he wanted out, he needed to whip around and touch J, to grip him tight and take him, to show him how much he meant to him when there were no words to describe it.

The restraints were ever-tight, and J had yet to touch him besides that fleeting lick, Makoto had yet to see him since he left his vision, but he needed more immediately. It frustrated him immensely, but no matter how hard his teeth bit into the gag, how his hips involuntarily clenched to thrust to no avail, the ropes would not give.

“My, someone’s eager.” J hummed, pulling away from him. “I wonder what’s got you so worked up, hm?” A teasing lilt danced across his timbre. Before he could formulate the thoughts to respond, there was a tugging at the ropes that connected his wrists and ankles. Even though he was hogtied, decadent patterns also adorned his body, which now supported him as the weight beneath him vanished. 

Being lifted just caused the ropes to burn more, and he would have hissed into the gag if it weren’t such a surprise. Suddenly, the room spun around him, and before he could blink he was face to face with J.

A shit-eating grin, eyes squinted in amusement, both hands clasped together in delight, J was the epitome of beauty enraptured in him and him alone. The sheer weight of his focus was overwhelming and it swallowed him whole. A tuft of fur brushed against his bound wrists and ankles. Now that he could see clearly, he noticed it was J’s tail arching over him and lifting the rope.

J’s intense stare dipped from Makoto’s and traveled towards his freed cock. But while the two eyes dropped downwards, the single eye atop his forehead still bore into him. Makoto’s cock sprang, already more than filled out, now unconfined between him and the table. At least that part wasn’t bound with rope. Yet even so, the hot gaze on it made it twitch. J’s laughter filled the room.

“So hard already?” The boisterous laugh had an undertone of a tease dripped with honey. “And I haven’t even started my fun,” he cooed. Makoto groaned, still not too used to being gagged. J just snickered, clearly he was enjoying himself.

“As much as I would love to listen to your responses, I find this gag absolutely charming. I thought I wouldn’t like not being able to hear your voice. It’s been a while and I do miss my Mako-chan after all…” One of J’s fingers traced the gag delicately, the scrape of his nail vibrated Makoto’s teeth through the rope, and he hummed to no one in particular. “I find that there is a certain pleasure in hearing you not being able to speak, being fully at my mercy.”

The implication blew Makoto’s pupils wide and he shivered fully, feeling it spark right in his cock. Fear gripped him, but it was the anticipation he had been waiting for, the reaction he’d been craving for weeks. He looked at J with pleading eyes, hoping he could read the desperation in them. 

Without confirmation that his wish had been granted, suspended and at J’s full discretion, the view vanished as the room spun around once more. Now, with J behind him, Makoto squirmed curiously, straining to try and see the object of his desires once more. 

His knees weren’t bound together, so it was easy for J to part them. Makoto still jumped from the touch though, electric jolts rushing into him when J kneaded his thighs. And just like his aching muscles, his cock strained too. The scrambling of his mind originated from the administration of steady hands pushing his thighs apart.

J’s flowing hair tickled the inside of his thighs, and his arms now circled towards the outside of his legs and up towards his hips and the small of his back. Without the force holding it open, Makoto’s legs closed around J’s head, every breath J took fluttering against his skin.

Small puffs of air tickled his perineum as J snickered. Kneading his ass, J licked and sucked on Makoto’s thigh, earning him a heavy shudder. With a wet pop of his mouth, he pulled back to utter, “Your outside tastes divine. I wonder how your insides taste?” He laughed deep and devious, every huff of air nipped at his wet skin. Makoto swallowed the saliva that pooled in his mouth with the insinuation. “Well, there’s only one way to find out.”

They say that God is tasted mouth to mouth, that ‘I have tasted thee in me, and myself in thee,’ but if Makoto could change that quote, he was convinced that ‘ass to mouth’ would have fit better.

Ass parted with a steady grip, J’s tongue pushed past the wall of flesh with no hesitation. Makoto’s hands fought to hold onto something, his nails digging into his palms. He cried out, biting fiercely into the gag while J pumped enthusiastically, his tongue probing every part of his insides. A deep amused hum emerged from J, and Makoto saw stars as vibrations were sent straight inside him. 

Hazy fog of pleasure began to cloud his mind, fraying his thoughts at the edges, unable to hold on to any of them, slipping through his fingers the moment they arrived. With the rhythmic ecstasy, it was easy to fall alongside it. The pumping of J’s tongue, the kneading of his ass, Makoto squeezed his thighs around J’s head to try and force him deeper. When he obliged, Makoto moaned against the rope, rocking his hips as best he could given his restraints.

Oh, how he missed this. Not the act in particular, but J. As his body rocked, the golden pendant bounced against his neck. Its existence was the only thing breaking through in his mind he could grasp on to. He kept it as a constant reminder of everything, good and bad, but wearing it now and bearing J’s affection was almost too much. J was the only thing he could even begin thinking of, his presence the only thing he could grasp.

Even so, his cock ached. He may have been used to putting his guest’s pleasure above his own, but this was so different. If his clientele requested ropes, he’d be indifferent to comply, and he thought this would be mostly the same, even with the prospect already being more intriguing since it was for J. However, he hated being confined now. 

He needed to rut his cock against something, anything would do. It strained so bad. He craved to grab J by the horns, tongue fuck his mouth, then fuck it again properly with his cock. His mind ran wild, muscles straining helplessly against the unmoving confines, his thighs in a death grip against J’s head. 

Only J could reduce him like this. Makoto realized this sometime early on in his stay at D’s brothel. Sobbing moans spilling over the gag, he truly realized how handing over all control to J was the best and worst thing he could have done.

For what felt like it had just begun, soon J pulled out, easily slipping out of Makoto’s hold. He almost didn’t even register being spun around yet again to face him, his eyes still unfocused, his chest heaving breathlessly. It took J cooing and licking his lips for Makoto to blink and force his hazy brain to collect itself to focus on J.

He must have been out of it longer than he thought, given how shit-eating J’s smirk stretched across his face. Even so, thoughts besides desperation dredged thick as mud. The tip of J’s finger tapped him lightly on the nose, and Makoto blinked himself fully present. In the wake of lucidity, he noticed a tinge of pink dusted J’s cheeks. Glowing, J purred. “I just couldn’t help myself. You’re so cute when you’re blissed out like that.”

The finger that touched him prior reached out again, but this time lightly brushing against his sore lips. J’s sudden attention on them made him realize how chapped and cracked they became with how tender to the touch they were.

Yet, that wasn’t what J was focusing on. His finger circled around to his bottom lip, pulling away to show how wet his finger was. Makoto blinked. J snickered, sticking his finger in his mouth and sucking so tantalizingly, never breaking eye contact. He laughed when he popped it out, maneuvering Makoto so he could see the table’s surface.

“I wonder who could have made such a mess,” he chided, filled with innocence.

Makoto flushed a deep red. On the cleared portion of the table where he laid previously, what used to be devoid of any blemish were two large puddles; as precum steadily flowed from him, drool pooled past the corner of his lips. The absolute mess he made lay bare in front of him, a testament to how quickly he lost composure. His brain addled with embarrassment. He didn’t know how J would react to such an oversight on his end, surely punishment, but before he could begin to voice any apologetic mumble, J reached a hand and wrapped warm fingers around his cock, holding it firmly.

The touch was enough to make Makoto buckle, and his head thrashed right into J’s other hand, which now caressed his cheek. It swiped away the newly formed drool, and Makoto whimpered into the gentle embrace, feeling tears begin to threaten him.

“You’re leaking so much already,” J gingerly stroked his cock and soothed his lips. The words weren’t harsh or demeaning like he expected, but they still teased him. Warmth from the hold made his head spin… was that pride he heard or just his own machinations?

“But with you like this… I can only come to one conclusion.” Dropping to honey lacquer, Makoto drowned in the viscous buzz that engulfed his mind. “With you splayed out like this, it can’t just be a feast for the eyes alone, no? Why I could just eat you.”

Makotos’ heart thrashed in his ears, pupils blown wide. The full-body shudder that erupted from him forced out a guttural moan from his throat. He didn’t have to strain to see J’s lust-filled gaze, maintaining their lilt but unmistakably possessive. His thumb fondled his cheek, and Makoto lost himself nuzzling back. To hear it plainly said like that… 

“Is that what you want? Is this what you hoped for when you set all this up?” And it was true, although he had tried to snuff out that desire since this was about what J wanted. The anticipation that stretched throughout the week tripped and stumbled over the silly thought. He had quelled the desire even if he wished for it, but it seemed J read him like a glove. Unsure of how to respond, he nodded the best he could, averting his gaze in sheepishness. It seemed the idea pleased J, which fanned the flames in Makoto’s heart. “How ridiculously bold of you, kid.”

J wiped the contemplative frown off of Makoto’s lips with his thumb, moving his hand to support his chin and force eye contact. The grin slowly sweeping across J was the smuggest Makoto had ever seen on anyone, demon or otherwise. “Lucky you, I’ve prepared a replacement body just for this occasion, just for you.”

… What? Makoto’s eyes flew wide. As J cupped his chin and their connected stare persisted, he could tell J ate up every surprised wrinkle in his brow in the way the mischievous smirk deepened. Makoto flushed scarlet with the implication that J knew this whole time and he seemed intent on following through with it. Just the thought alone drove him feverish, depraved. J placed a thumb on his drooling lips, snapping him from his thoughts.

“Surprised?” J beamed. An understatement, but not unwelcome. “Nothing gets past me. When I heard, I knew I had to come properly prepared. Now, let’s get you out of this.”

Makoto was still processing the fact that J knew and had actively prepared that he barely registered being manhandled and jostled about. If he dwelled on it too long he’d need to spend the rest of the week straight with his hand between his legs, so he resolved to unpack that after.

Noise cluttered behind him while J still held him. He tried to crane his neck to see but the act was done before Makoto could get much leeway with the ropes. 

Suddenly his arms and legs fell forward, his chest curled in on itself, and his neck cramped from released tension. Deadweight, J was there to catch him with a mumbled oomf, there we go, as Makoto winced in pain. His stiff muscles cried out alongside the realization the hogtie was released. With the main knot absent, the rest of the ropes slowly draped off of him with J’s gentle aide. All Makoto could do was clench on to J for the time being, reduced to a mass of groaning as the rope gag loosened enough for him to spit it out weakly.

They say hindsight is 20/20, and Makoto couldn’t agree more. When the ropes peeled off his skin they left burning red flesh in their wake. With the added weight of him hanging, gravity had stiffened his muscles more than he could have ever imagined the act ever could. But it was J’s embrace that brought him back to reality. Blinking, he realized he had been set down on the table once more, this time his back to it. With J bending over and embracing him from atop, he realized he had cleared most of the table as well.

“Better?” J had fully released him, pulling away. Wry amusement was written in the crinkle of his eyes. Makoto’s limbs finally complied with the demand to just stretch all of them at once, but even starting the command was deemed too much for him at the moment. But as his body shifted, the bare skin of his back laid uncomfortably sticky, wet, and cold. 

Grimacing, J must have set him back in the puddles of his precum and slobber. He glowered, his voice finally coming to him. “Gross.”

It came out in a croak more than anything intelligible. His tongue sat foreign in his dry mouth, his jaw stiff from biting down for so long, this combined with the entirety of his body, he was spent.

J’s laugh brought some energy back to him though, enough to tug his lips for an uptick of a smile at the hilarity of the situation. His warmth radiated into Makoto, easing the bite of his muscles. “Oh, you big baby. Soon you’ll forget there was even a mess to begin with.”

And Makoto realized he was angelic, devilishly so. J towered over him, yet was so close Makoto could feel the warmth radiate off of him. His hair fell like a curtain enclosing around him, shielding the outside world away, drawing his attention to J only.

Within this sheet framing the two, J reached a hand down to caress the healing seams adorning his neck, the thin, dark line of a scar healed over time but Makoto could never find it within himself to remove the stitches. The one responsible for it inspected it like an artisan admiring his work, and Makoto flushed with the intimacy of the act. Many nights were spent alone tracing the line, imagining it was J in the lonesome hours. 

“J…” he choked out, unsure of what to say, the start of every potential sentence feeling wrong on his tongue from the sheer overwhelming number of possibilities.

J’s eyes flitted back to his for a moment, before thinly running his nails down to the ribbon gracing his neck. With the attention solely on him, he had forgotten it was there. The fabric tugged lightly on his skin while J’s fingers slowly reached the pendant. So many emotions played in his eyes, in the crinkling of his face, that Makoto was at a loss on how to read it. They passed quickly though, replaced by the teasing sly grin and half-lidded eyes that Makoto knew best. 

“To just be wearing this…” J mused, fondling the pendant in his hand. “Don’t think I didn’t notice it as soon as I walked in. I wonder what runs through that head of yours.”

There was a lightness in his tone, but a heavy expectation. Instead of cowering, Makoto rose above the challenge. In a moment of clarity, he finally found words that voiced what kept him pacing for days prior. “Do you like it?”

J pressed his lips in a smug grin before lowering down to almost brush foreheads with him. During the movement, Makoto jostled when a very large presence brushed against his thigh, light enough just to tease. He leaned in further to bite at the shell of his ear, his teeth a sharp and silent enticing threat. “Oh, Mako-chan, you have no idea.” 

Makoto shivered, the physical weight of J mounting him and the insinuated weight of his words left his head spinning. His back arched to seek more contact with J in a fervor, squirming as much as he could in the confines of J’s body trapping him. He bit back a whine when his bucking hips reached no friction.

“How about I show you how it makes me feel? How ravenous, depraved, unhinged, it makes me? Since you’re so insistent on giving me what I want for my birthday, I think I will just do what I want anyways.” J bit down harshly on his ear before licking it lavishly. 

Gasping, Makoto couldn’t contain the rush in his breath as his hands sought to grasp on to J in any place they could to hold him in place. J wasn’t done, though.

“You look absolutely appetizing and mine to devour. But that’s also what you want, yes? Say it.” Suddenly, a harsh growl spouted from his throat and he felt the vibrations ring in his head. “Admit that’s what you’re after.”

“I—,” Makoto’s body still wriggled desperately to make as much contact with J as his body would allow, too heady to comprehend anything anymore besides the sheer emblazoned presence of J. It was almost instinct for the abrupt snarl to erupt from him, nails gripping deep into J’s skin as he turned his cheek to address his demon directly. “Yes. Eat me, J.” 

A command, clear and simple, and one J seemed enthralled to indulge. A deep chuckle emerged from him and Makoto felt the sultry breath on his neck. J began to retreat, dragging his sharp canines along his neck with a parted smirk, and Makoto knew he could sense the throbbing pulse of his heartbeat. He pulled back, eyelids hooded, and murmured, “Good boy.”

His own body trembling terribly, J’s hands were a solid weight against his uncontrollable form. They pressed him down as he detached, shifting back along his frame, his fingers massaging into him as they traversed. Makoto hissed when they hit sore muscles and rope burns. 

Oh. He didn’t have to worry about that anymore. This body was done for, anyway. That realization, that anticipation, made his cock twitch and his lungs gasp for air; it was delicious.  

J hummed, amused, soaking in every reaction Makoto gave him while he sank down, down, deeper, palms circling his chest, kneading his stomach. It was when he reached his thigh that he drew out his tongue once more, licking fat, languid stripes over it while looking directly at him with that piercing gaze of his. 

When he arrived at his ankle, he picked it up, nuzzling against the flesh, taking great care in handling it. The worship it was receiving combined with the lust-filled scrutinous eye contact would turn the most pious man sinful. 

Abrupt; time snapped to a halt. Faster than the crack of a whip did his entire world change.

The whiplash was too sudden, too dizzying.

A glint of sharp teeth amongst a swift motion of a maw widening, the utter crunch of bones snapping coalescing with the wet ripping of flesh, the innate bodily reaction to cry out, to thrash, to grab on to anything he could. It was excruciating. It was ecstasy. Ecstasy came in the form of excruciating pain and he sobbed out laughter, seeing unfocused stars on the ceiling.

It was over before it even began. But before he could catch his breath white blinded him when J tore off his other foot in one fell swoop. Makoto howled at the tearing of his skin, every nerve alight with burning fire. In his flailing his hips bucked, his cock straining, but even untouched this was substantially more satisfying than any stroke of his cock could ever give him. 

He barely registered J’s claws sinking into his thighs that held him steady. He was sure they drew blood, but they felt like tiny pinpricks compared to everything else. 

His heart raced in his ears, his head giddy, his vision blurred. It hurt, hurt like hell, but as the seconds stretched he was coming down from his high. Hair matted to his forehead, he lifted his head to weakly look at J, his figure ill-defined while Makoto’s lungs eased from panting.

But as his eyes focused, he saw J’s mouth coated in blood. His blood. And J licked his lips, lapping up only some of the stains. His stubbed ankles screamed for mercy, but all Makoto could think about was J.

With the raptured expression on J’s face, it seemed he was wholly consumed too.

It took Makoto an eternity to realize J was talking to him, the ringing hardly dying down in his ears. “—and look how hard you are.” 

“Yeah?” he panted, the syllable taking monstrous effort to speak, his throat yearning to keep groaning from pain, his chest heaving, his mind muddled. He wanted to say a multitude of things, but they left him before forming into a thought. The one thing he was able to produce was a feeble yet insistent, “More.”

“So demanding,” J groped at his open wound, earning a pleading cry from Makoto. “As you wish.”

It wasn’t familiar, this sheer violence against himself. And damn, the torment was anguish, but it was also sweet bliss. The phantom limb perception of being unable to move one’s appendages he was experienced with from the handful times of being beheaded. But now, how the immobility slowly crawled up him as J progressed… it was a sensation he had yet to fully comprehend. To be wholly devoured and engulfed… the tantalizing process brought sheer agony and mesmerizing euphoria.

Bite after bite, slurp after crunch of slippery sinew being sucked after the snapping of his bones, he worked his way up religiously. The captivating sight of J holding his legs up as he devoured him, making sure to lap up the gushing of blood that escaped down the side of his legs to not miss a drop, sucking ever so ravishingly, caused the agony to spill delightfully from Makoto’s lips.

And as soon as his mind would succumb to a pain-filled haze, a snap of bone reverberated through his entire body; he was not allowed to escape, mind nor body, but he was grateful. He didn’t want to.  

His hands couldn't reach J, so they grasped onto his own body, his nails raking into the flesh of his skin, shivering as he felt himself up with combined violence from both J and himself. Every rip of skin from J had Makoto gripping himself with equal fervor. 

His body bucked and writhed, the only thing keeping him stable and bound to the table were the harsh claws that slowly dug from his calves up towards his thighs as he advanced. He couldn’t stop his body from kicking and thrashing, so he was grateful that J could ground him.

Makoto’s own nails tore into his chest by the time J finished devouring his thighs. Even smattered in blood, J embodied the aura of an angel, tinged with devilish delight. Yet, the tarnish didn’t blight his charming demeanor in the slightest. 

Without legs, Makoto could only arch his back and clutch himself in the throes of pleasure. The slow process of his lower limbs being taken away from him one by one, and the loss of being able to move them wouldn’t leave him with the feeling of loss like he expected, but made him whole.

J pulled away, licking his lips and looking rather satisfied with himself as he surveyed his work. Not a hair out of place, minus the bloodstains, he seemed just as prim as when he first stepped into the room. 

Blood once dribbled down Makoto’s chin, now cold and drying, he had realized this when he finally licked his own lips while watching J. He must have been biting them too hard. Cold trails of tears also littered his cheeks. Such a fevered chill encapsulated him that both extremes tugged at him.

“Not a drop of you wasted,” J purred, licking his red-soaked fingers clean. Makoto was enchanted by the act and swallowed thick dryness in his throat when J did the same. Smirking, he teased and gestured to him, “I’d ask if you’re okay, but I know the answer to that. Just look at yourself.”

Glancing down at his body was giddying. He knew what was there, what was left of him. He had watched it all happen before his eyes. But to confront the sight of it, and truly see it… the cutoff of his legs clean at the base of his thighs, being unable to move them, even if the muscles were half-torn, a sickly sheen of sweat coating his skin, and above all that his throbbing cock profusely leaking a small pool of precum onto his stomach, it was intoxicating.

The sight became blurry as tears welled up in his eyes, this time he was aware of them, and he blinked them away. They weren’t of sadness, nor anger, but sheer exhilaration and bliss. His lips twitched in a shaky, manic, grin and his throat choked up when a laugh attempted to spill from it. It seemed even that was too much for him. Instead, he shook his head and reached his arms out toward J to beckon him closer.

He obliged, taking hold of one of his hands while he descended towards him, elegant and amused. The touch sent a rush of fire through Makoto.

“Kiss me,” Makoto was able to command past the tightness in his throat, once J was close enough. 

J’s puff of breath tickled the dried tears and blood on his face and neck. “How could I ever say no to a face like that?”

It was a rush that invigorated his system, flooding through what was left of his veins. Makoto’s tongue darted into J’s mouth, energy spiking through him. Copper mixed with J’s saliva, and Makoto swallowed it all down hungrily. The blend of his own blood with the overwhelming presence of J made Makoto deepen the kiss, searching for more, needing more, more, more.  

The hand interlaced with J’s clutched it tight, and the other shot up to entangle with J’s hair, reaching and entwining his hair in between his fingertips until he reached the base of one of his horns. He grabbed on tight and pulled him in deeper, savoring the feeling of being able to hold and touch him, and the taste of both himself and J on his tongue. Every lap of passion fueled his arousal and spurred him further.

When J tried to pull away, Makoto chased after him and bit his tongue, forcing him in place, continuing to dominate his mouth. J just breathed out laughter with his nose and humored him. 

Eventually, Makoto was satiated and finally broke the kiss, his mind buzzing with a high the sting of pain from his wounds couldn’t bring down. As he breathed, he let go of J’s horn when he pulled back, barely registering the movement. 

He blinked back into awareness witnessing J nuzzling Makoto’s hand to his cheek, the one he had yet to let go of. There was so much said in the gesture, in his expression, that Makoto’s addled mind couldn’t comprehend, but J silenced his confused thoughts when his tongue lolled out of his mouth to lap a flat stripe against Makoto’s palm.

Shivering, he watched as J stared into his eyes with half-lidded lust, trailing his tongue up Makoto’s hand. J brought each digit up one by one to lay a gentle kiss upon, but then wrapped his lips around his thumb and sucked. A devilish purr vibrated around the digit, and Makoto’s cock throbbed when he felt the dangerous tip of a canine brush against his skin. 

He swirled his tongue around it, meanwhile interlacing his hand with his other fingers. The gentle gesture made a whine escape from Makoto’s throat, how J’s fingers caressed against his own. He bit his lip and swallowed heavily when J did the same around his thumb, mesmerized. 

But all it took was the corner of his mouth to uptick, a mischievous glint flashing, catching his eye, for the serene scene to come crashing down—

Crunch.

Searing white pain engulfed his awareness and he howled. His free hand sank lower, but he didn’t dare touch himself. The temptation was enormous, but it was wholly more gratifying to instead clutch at himself, to rake his nails down his chest, stomach, sides, to feel even more of what J was gifting him.

He watched while J swallowed, seeing the digit slide down his throat as it bobbed. Before he pulled away, he sank his mouth down lower to engulf him and sucked, lapped, and swallowed, every motion shooting flares of hot pain from the wound. It was odd, not being able to kick, to flex his legs, to curl his toes, his brain sent the signals to do so but nothing came in response. Even being bound with rope was different from this complete immobility. But that in itself, knowing J was slowly consuming him… 

A flash of pain pulled him from his thoughts. A sickening and satisfying crack echoed outside and through him; another finger gone. Another, and then another. In quick succession, J ingested every digit down to the base without giving Makoto a moment to even think. He wheezed, his free hand now maiming, clutching, at his chest, in an effort to ground him to something. 

It was similar to how both his legs had been devoured. The many bones in the hand and wrist, just like his feet and ankle, went down with many snaps and crunches. And as J continued up his arm, cleaner snaps of broken bone with the tearing of flesh and reaming of muscle filled the room. The sheer difference in feeling the plentiful nerves on the surface of his skin rip away compared to the deeper trauma of taut ligaments being slickly pulled from bone and muscle scorched his mind alight.

And as J reached his shoulder, Makoto’s own appetite just increased. When he finally pulled away from the visceral stub, Makoto pulled him into another starved kiss. He had known no greater pain than this, but there was no scarring on his soul. Quite the opposite. Dizzyingly, he was soaring and his mind dancing in a heated haze as Makoto drank more from J’s mouth, claiming as much as he could. 

When J reached for his remaining hand, Makoto didn’t just let it happen to him. He brushed his thumb against J’s lips, enjoying the sensation of it on his fingers, knowing that in just a moment, that’d be the last thing they felt. 

He slipped his thumb into J’s mouth, and he graciously accepted it, teasingly biting down, playing with the yearning moans Makoto emitted from the treatment. Eventually J bit through the flesh and bone and Makoto curled in on himself, his hips thrusting into the air. 

Depraved, Makoto fed J his final limb, truly losing himself physically and mentally. He had no means to thrash about, to grab hold onto anything, only choosing to stare J in the eyes while he lovingly consumed him. Makoto thought, while his chest heaved and sweet agony enveloped him, that he wouldn’t have it any other way.

The thought was a drop of clarity, a bead of tranquility in his scattered mind.

Ever since they first met, J had accepted him. His life in the human world was met with scorn; he was an outcast, plain and simple. Any attempts to “just be normal,” were fake and forced. He knew what he was, knew what he wanted, but there was no way he could have lived in a society that could never give him a place to be himself. 

But J… he had no reservations about fulfilling his desires. He even found it amusing, this deep and ugly thing he couldn’t dare show anyone else. And even now, with Makoto admitting that he did want to get eaten, just as J had teased all that time ago, J was quick to rise to the challenge, to wholly embrace him, even enjoying it. Makoto had constantly berated himself for not being able to be “normal,” no matter how hard he tried. It was like denying his true self.

But J was different. And in the face of a life that constantly rejected him… J had saved him.

No matter how difficult adjusting to life at the brothel had been, and still is, that thought alone was his savior. 

J was his savior.

… 

His limbs were gone now. He didn’t care. In fact, an exciting tremble pulsed through him when J traced one of the deep lacerations along his chest, one his now-lost hand had created. 

“Remarkable boy. I do admire your courage.” J caressed his body. He didn’t even need to hold his thrashing body down anymore, for only his organs remained. The hidden inviting threat beneath the calm strokes of his fingers down Makoto’s chest and stomach suggested things that made him moan. 

A palm pushed down flat against his chest, pushing a breath from his diaphragm. J leaned his head against it too and murmured, his voice vibrating throughout him. “I think I’ll eat your heart.”

He prodded his left bicep, and Makoto could feel the hammering of his heartbeat against his palm. Grinning ever so sly, he quipped, “But first, I’ll take my time.” 

Now familiar searing pain rippled through him as one of J’s nails dug into one of the trenches Makoto created along his chest. It tore through skin and muscle, rising and falling as it trailed against his ribs.

Makoto groaned while J ripped open his torso, crying out when J ate up the discarded pieces. Slowly, the sight of his heaving chest of sweaty skin was replaced with wet ruby and ivory, coming face to face with his ribs. If his eyes weren’t so glazed, maybe he could see more than just rhythmic movement underneath them. He swore he could almost make out the thin membranes of his lungs filling between his rising ribs as he hyperventilated. As J shredded more and more away, Makoto’s mind was heady from just how fascinating the sight was.

It was unreal.

Yet, the excruciation grounded him. J lowered his head towards his exposed torso, and just the image of him being so near, so close to his exposed self, drove him nuts. He wasn’t ready for the snap of J removing a portion of a rib with his teeth, followed by a quick snap sequence of snap snap snap of his other ribs cracking. He had no hand to cover his mouth to stop himself from emitting such a guttural scream… but nothing came out of his throat besides a raspy wheeze. By now, his voice was dead and the pain of this on top of everything else was just a drop of water in a sea of affliction.

J plunged his fist into the open cavity, and while Makoto couldn’t really feel what he was doing in there, a deeper sensation of sharp prodding arose from within his chest. The contrasting sight of J tenderly removing the flesh and bone to reveal his innards just for him to haphazardly rummage within him without a care was intoxicating. Makoto wanted to throw his head back but was unable to tear his eyes away from the gushing blood and exposed side of himself. 

It didn’t take him long to find what he wanted. Gingerly, he raised his arm right out of him, in his palm Makoto’s still-beating heart. His torso was pulled along with it, like a puppet with the strings still attached, the arteries and veins were tugged taut to his heart as J removed it from his chest.

It beat in his palm, even more rapidly as Makoto realized what was happening. The blood vessels spilled from between his fingers and Makoto reeled from arousal and disbelief.

“J…” he called, his throat finding strength while his heart beat even faster in J’s hand.

“What is it?” J idled, bringing his face right up to it and staring at him through the pulsating organ. His eyes bore into him, amusingly, but it consumed Makoto whole.

“I… I won’t die from this, right?”

It wasn’t like he was scared of dying, in contrast, this would be his preferred way to go. Back then, he had been ready to die when he was human. But now, he had aspirations to uphold. And that beat of fear pulsed in his heart just once as he voiced it. 

“You’re asking that now?” J scoffed, seemingly unimpressed. 

Makoto hated this feeling of vulnerability, physically and mentally. J held his heart in his hands, in more ways than one. And it would be easy to break.

J licked a stripe up his tongue, making him bite his cheek. “I’m not done with you just yet.” 

It was the most of an answer he would get, Makoto surmised. This whole year spent struggling to find answers to J’s cryptic expectations for him gave him much grief, but it also prepared him to take in any and all available information in order to surmise the answer himself. J could easily make do with him now if he wanted, but it wouldn’t make much sense if he did.

He’d seen incredible violence with the patrons that frequented D’s brothel, and they all seemed to turn out fine.

J’s demeanor right now spoke of wonder and lust, it was a familiar sight Makoto knew well from the time they spent a year ago. No, he wouldn’t die from this. The thought spurred him forward. With a guttural growl, he commanded, “Then hurry up. Eat my heart. Now, J.”

A quick delighted smirk wiped the frown from J’s face, a knowing one. 

“You know, I’m surprised you’re still conscious. Any human would have passed out from shock.” J then took the apex into his mouth, still hammering away, and Makoto watched as he played with it, taking more and more into him. It beat harder witnessing J flash his teeth, carefully scraping across the surface. J pulled back and kissed his heart, suckling it as if savoring its taste. “But you were no ordinary human to begin with, isn’t that right, Mako-chan? I’m glad I took you in. You’re progressing quite nicely.”

“J… I—,” 

“My little demon, there’s more of you I’ve yet to devour. This is your gift as much as it is mine.”

For as many words as Makoto wanted to say, he once again fell pliant to J’s whims. It would be denying a higher power if he disobeyed. So, he began losing himself in the fantastical scene before him.

There was no crunch this time, nor much resistance muscles and skin brought when J quickly stuffed his heart into his mouth and swallowed it down, his teeth swiftly cutting the attached veins and arteries like scissors to twine. And like that, the taut puppet strings holding him up severed. His torso fell back onto the table with a thud, but that was in the back of his mind as his eyes couldn’t be torn from J’s blood-stained lips, how some of the blood vessels stuck out of his lips like noodles, and how he slurped them up just the same. 

He was just as enraptured as usual… except there was no hammering in his chest, no heartbeat ringing in his ears. He expected his vision to blur, for him to pass out with no blood circulation, but he was surprisingly still there. 

“More,” he croaked.

J shook his head and clicked out a breathy laugh. “So demanding, I’m getting there you impatient baby. Go any faster and there’ll be nothing more left of you.”

He was silenced by the cutting of more flesh as J tore a line down his stomach from the empty cavity, opening him up all the way by tearing the muscles asunder. The walls of his flesh were madly devoured, and the pain was delicious. He let out a frustrated growl when he couldn’t reach out arms to grip at J, when all he could do was writhe and breathe. His cock pulsed against now exposed flesh and it was dizzying.  

Without his abdominal muscles, it was incredibly hard to move, no matter how hard he willed it. Not like his cock was getting any stimulation by thrusting anyways, so he swallowed down the trepidation and went with it. He didn’t need to be able to move down there to cum anyways.

And without skin and muscle, as J continued eating away at the flesh, his organs began to seep out of him and splay flat onto the table. When nothing remained except for the exposed entrails, J took a step back to admire his work.

“I must say, I understand why you asked to devour me on that fateful day. Seeing you like this, in pieces, at my whims, knowing I’m the one that caused all of this…” J seemed to deliberate for a moment before humming to himself. His demeanor suddenly intensified. “I’m going to grant you a kindness even you didn’t show me back then. Answer me. Do you want to cum? Do you want to keep your cock intact?”

It was almost too much to think at that point. Makoto scrunched his eyes and nodded before finally grunting out a meek, “Yes.”

J prodded and teased him. “Then I won’t touch it.”

“I don’t need you to,” Makoto challenged.

J hummed and snickered to himself. Makoto watched entranced while J engulfed his liver, swallowing it down in slippery gulps. The pace at which he moved on kept Makoto lightheaded in the enraptured dance. J made his way down towards his intestines, which without the enclosure that flesh offered, had begun unraveling and leaked out of him all over the table.

 Many of his organs did so too, but none escaped from J. He made sure to eat and slurp and consume him bit by bit, hands catching what his mouth could not, the crunching and chewing replaced by slippery wet membranes that slid down his throat, leaving shimmering ruby in their wake. Makoto watched it all, captivated.

And it was the sight before him, J entangled in his entrails, lapping up Makoto in his entirety, sinew and membranes sticking to him but not caring one bit, that reminded Makoto of himself a year ago, worshiping J as he devoured him. It was too much. Too much.  

He had been close to coming this entire night, each action a drop of water added to an already brim-filled glass. But now with J wholly swallowing him up, engorged on him, he couldn’t contain himself any longer.

White, hot, searing pleasure engulfed his vision. Every constriction bounding him tight suddenly exploded from him all at once, erupting a concoction of rapture from him. His cock throbbed and pulsed as he came in thick waves. His exposed lungs heaved and Makoto threw his head back as all of this overwhelmed him completely. Drowning, he was sure of it. There was no pounding in his ears, but knowing it was because of J made his cock pulse as even more cum sputtered out of him. 

To have it all culminate to this moment, he was entirely sure that every doubt he had was worth it. 

As the blinding white eventually faded, the sheer bliss-filled haze settled into a blanket of murmuring in the back of his mind. When his eyes could focus enough again, he saw J patiently waiting for him, his eyes half-lidded, a knowing uptick of a smirk on his blood-covered lips, how it dribbled down his chin… the thought brought his spent cock back to life with a twitch. 

J laughed. “Seems you were right.”

Makoto never felt more blank yet so entirely overwhelmed in his life.

After a moment of Makoto being unable to respond, J continued. “You restrained yourself from coming when I touched your cock previously, but didn’t need my touch in the first place. Just seeing this is enough for you. Good boy.”

They both gazed down at the mess that was left of Makoto’s abdomen. Cum saturated with slimy remains of his entrails, the clear liquid drying while exposed to the elements intermingling with strewn organs just as his blood coagulated and pooled without a heart to circulate it. 

J leaned down to slurp all of it up, maintaining eye contact and a smirk that told Makoto he knew exactly what he was doing. As he lapped up his cum, guts, and blood, Makoto’s cock sprang back to life, excited by the absolute mess in front of him. Only J was capable of pulling him like this, to arouse him so earth-shatteringly and swiftly. But as much as J drove him wild, there was a tug of disappointment within him. 

“But, J…” he panted out, whining and biting his lip. His brow furrowed as the thought almost left him while watching J continue to engulf him. Eventually, J pulled away and prodded at him impatiently.

“What is it, Mako-chan?”

Like being snapped out of a trance, it took Makoto a moment to recover the thought, but he breathed it out shortly enough. “Don’t you want to cum, too?”

A beat passed before a sinister teasing smile appeared. He began twirling a long, stretchy twine of membrane between his fingers. “Oh, sweet boy. It’s not a matter of if, it's a matter of where.” He brought the bunched tissue to his mouth and swallowed it down, sucking on his fingers languidly before sliding them out along with his tongue. He licked his lips and inquired, “Where do you want me to cum?”

Makoto swore he saw stars, so caught up in the tantalizing image of J that the words, once they reached his brain, sent him spiraling into a lust-filled oblivion yet again. Though he immediately knew his answer, it took him moments that stretched to eternity to come up with the way to voice it.

“In— In my throat. Just like you did.” He yearned to pry open the seams at his neck, to quickly make haste of it, to forgo the year-long healing process the thin, long scar gave him, but to no avail. Frustrated, he bit his cheek. He desperately longed for J to touch it again after all this time, to unravel him just as he did twice before. He squirmed uncomfortably, hoping that got his message across.

J looked incredibly self-satisfied, and Makoto bared his neck to him in an attempt to entice him. By his silence and smug observations, Makoto knew J was withholding from speaking his mind. Being under that spotlight made him squirm. But soon enough he descended and licked at Makoto’s neck, brushing his sharp teeth against the skin and sucking a bruise into it. Makoto’s cock throbbed and he almost started crying once more, so lost in the throes of pleasure. 

He withdrew after minutes of teasing his throat in just the right way. “Why of course,” he whispered into his ear, and Makoto shivered.

J continued kissing down his neck and brought a hand up to lightly drag his nails down it as well. It stopped at the pendant, Makoto could feel it tug around his neck, and J twiddled the hefty charm in his fingers before dropping it to brush against his stitches.

The abrupt switch from calm and caring to brutish always shook Makoto to the core, and now was no exception. In the tender moment, J effortlessly sank his nails into the healing wound, ripping it open just wide enough to stick his fingers through. Thankfully, it was low enough for his vocal cords to stay intact, and J was skilled enough to maneuver past his trachea to open up his esophagus. 

It wasn’t dissimilar to when J ripped off his head for the third time and stuffed his whole fist up through the wound to his mouth. The memory and the way his throat stretched to accommodate his hand made tears spill from ecstasy. 

This time though, instead of stuffing him like a puppet, J withdrew his hand and lined his monstrously large cock up to the hole. The loss was immediately felt in his throat, but it paled from the sight in front of him. From his point of view, J absolutely towered over him, his gigantic frame blocking out all light except for the framing of a halo as the chandelier's candlelight peaked over. It made Makoto’s mind swim. 

J reached down and ruffled his matted hair. Makoto leaned into the gentle touch, his tenderness a reprieve his heart latched on to. J brought his hand to his cheek and cupped it, wiping a stray tear from his cheek. “Look at you, being so good for me. I can’t promise I’ll be gentle, though. Sorry, dear.”

With that, he plunged in. In one fluid motion, he flushed himself into the base. Makoto was sure some parts of him tore, unable to accommodate the stretch so fast, but that pain brought more satisfaction. 

Makoto couldn’t breathe like this, but as J sat there for a moment, it occurred to him that just like with the loss of circulation, he didn’t need to breathe either, at least, not in the same way. He found he didn’t care either way.

The tip of J’s cock went past his mouth and up into the beginnings of his sinuses, pushing more silent tears from Makoto. Even though his mouth remained empty, his throat had never felt so full in his life. He silently choked out of reflex, gagging around the thick shaft.

Without missing the next beat, J began thrusting relentlessly. The friction, even though lots of blood ran down his esophagus and saliva coated his mouth, tore him up. It was both slick yet akin to sandpaper shredding his insides. However, the view Mako witnessed above him drove him mad. 

J, fucking his throat relentlessly, his face twinged with pleasure, biting his lip subtly, all because of Makoto. The pace was brutal and Makoto couldn’t help the overflowing tears but they didn’t spill from pain, not anymore. They spilled from sheer overwhelming belonging. Everything in that moment just felt right, that he was made for this, and J was made for him.

With J’s unrelenting pace and the slightly disheveled form in front of him, Makoto wept a final time, and his cock spasmed as he came a second time. He screwed his eyes tightly shut while he came, silently weeping as J’s rhythm became erratic. Stars danced behind his eyelids and the crashing wave of ecstasy ripped throughout what was left of his body. Makoto’s mind was fuzzy and his vision bleary, still tear-stained, when J thrust himself flush in Makoto’s throat and he felt every twitch and pulse in the walls of his throat as J came as well. 

Thick cum immediately lined his throat and sinuses; it dripped in fat droplets out of his nose and mouth. He grimaced and scrunched up his face. Even while still in the throes of ecstasy he was able to realize how uncomfortable breathing was going to be with cum up his sinuses.

And now, truly, he wasn't beautiful anymore. Now, he looked like what he was, a raw wound, carved open by the one he was infatuated with. He was soiled, bloodied, torn to pieces, nothing but utterly devoured and bloodied and sodden by ruination. But, he felt lighter for it, complacent and satisfied. He may be tarnished but his soul was true. A peace washed over his mind amidst the typhoon raging around the edges of his perception.

J pulled out, which Makoto was secretly thankful for, and he finally gasped for air, sputtering and coughing. But even as he caught his breath for dear life, blowing the cum out of his nose, his pupils were still blown wide from wonder.

“Now how was that, Mako-chan?”

Makoto still lay flat on his back and coughed. Eventually being able to breathe again. Even through all the physical torment that still hurt like hell bit at his open cavity, his amputated limbs, he still managed to pull himself together to respond. “That’s my line. It’s your birthday in case you’ve forgotten. Did you enjoy your gift?”

J looked down at him in awe, and Makoto’s chest, what remained of it anyway, swelled with pride. Makoto soaked it all up, his metaphorical heart soaring. Right then, he promised he would never forget this feeling, no matter what. 

“Well, if you must know.” J bent down to poke a finger at Makoto’s nose, a genuine smile stretched ear to ear. “It’ll be one I remember till the day I die.”

… Oh, right. 

Makoto had forgotten, in all his excitement about seeing J again and the possibility of surprising him, that this was J, and that he had also promised himself that one day, he’d get revenge for the hell he put him through. 

It ate at his heart, this terrible conundrum.

Right now though, more pressing matters tore at his being. His entire being ached and he groaned to voice it, his head pounding against his skull now that he had a moment to think.

J quickly stood up from the table, clapping his hands joyously. “Now, let me fix you up and put you back together. Remember how I told you about the spare body I have for you? It’s a special breed~”

… breed?

“It better not be another dog body.”

J winked at him and swiftly ushered out of the room to retrieve it, leaving Makoto’s sight. “Don’t get your hopes up~”