Kneel Before This Love: Act 3

Mitora had never been a man for telling lies, and this time was no exception. Fuyuki had spent the last three days held captive at the Komine-kai compound—more precisely, in Mitora’s bedroom. His wrists remained tied behind his back, and while Mitora had allowed a kimono to be thrown over him, his underwear had been confiscated to ensure Mitora easy access whenever he wanted it. After days of constant violation the lower half of his body felt leaden and numb, even when Mitora wasn’t inside him. Mitora’s courtesy had at least extended to wiping down Fuyuki’s thighs and groin, but the only time the man would clean out the recesses of his ass was in the bath. Every time he shifted semen would spill out from inside him, forcing him to recall everything Mitora had done to him with tremors of humiliation.

Losing his job before this happened had really screwed him; his absence would attract much less attention now. And it had only taken a little fast-talk from Mitora to apparently convince his mother at home that nothing was wrong. He’d fed her a flimsy line about Fuyuki wanting to relax at his place for a while now that he was unemployed, and she hadn’t doubted it for a second. That said, Fuyuki did also ostensibly have a girlfriend who might notice if his captivity dragged on, although it was unclear what exactly she could do about it. Getting her involved in this mess might do nothing but put her in danger, too.

So, what the hell was he supposed to do? The sliding panels of the paper lattice doors were open to the exquisite expanse of the Japanese garden, and Fuyuki stared vacantly out as he considered his future.

“Fuyuki, I’ve brought some dinner,” called a hesitant voice. He hadn’t realized how late it had gotten.

He lifted his head and turned to watch as Sokabe entered the room, a tray of food held in one hand, and he couldn’t stop his eyes from narrowing in resentment. Even Mitora apparently drew the line at letting every man in the building get an eyeful of Fuyuki’s indecent state of undress, and he’d appointed Sokabe to take care of all of Fuyuki’s needs—which he did, with a dispassionate and unsettlingly robotic routine. Fuyuki almost wondered if the man had a manual somewhere.

“I’m not hungry.” He’d take any opportunity for defiance he could get, and refusal had become his knee-jerk reaction, even to a meal that had been prepared for him.

“So you say,” Sokabe said flatly, not mincing his words, “but you are serving the boss, even if you’re not leaving this room. You won’t make it if you don’t keep up your strength.”

The only deviation in Sokabe’s cookie-cutter pattern was the words he used to encourage Fuyuki to eat, which were different every time. This was his most pointedly provocative line to date, and Fuyuki flushed bright red to the tips of his ears. Sex was ‘serving him’ now?

What the fuck even am I…! He felt furious all over again.

“We have one of your favorites prepared today, blue-backed sashimi, direct from the Sea of Japan. The soup is mackerel broth.”

Fuyuki couldn’t help pricking up his ears at that. That was indeed one of his favorites, and freshness was particularly critical for blue-backed sashimi. He could appreciate exactly how much trouble had been taken to special order it, but… it had come from Mitora, and that was enough to spoil it in his eyes. Even if it did mean that Mitora still remembered his favorite dishes, though they hadn’t eaten together in ages, and had had them prepared for him, though Fuyuki’s tastes had always been described as ‘adult’ and ‘upper-class.’

Despite his depleted stamina, his nerves weren’t steel enough to be concerned with an empty stomach in a situation like this. He was glowering at the delicious-looking sashimi, unable to bring himself to accept the meal, when the interior door slid open and Mitora strode inside.

“What’re you doin’, Fuyuki? Still makin’ Sokabe deal with your shit?”

Mitora often wore kimono at home and today he was dressed in casual dark silk, the belt tied loose and the front gaping open as always.

“This guy’s loyal to a fault, you keep up this hunger strike and who knows, he might cut off his own finger. Gimme a break, huh?”

“I am always prepared to do my duty,” said Sokabe, and the fact that he meant every word that he said was terrifying. Fuyuki refused to let anyone in his life shed their blood because of him.

But, he thought with a grimace, that didn’t mean he wanted to eat.

“Or maybe, you need me to feed you again?” Mitora shot him a meaningful look and Fuyuki shuddered, whipping his head from side to side. Vivid memories of Mitora force-feeding him sprang into his head, raising goosebumps all along his skin.

It had been the first day of his captivity and of course he had refused to eat, to which Mitora had replied, “So, you want me to feed you mouth-to-mouth while you’re stuffed with my cock?” Then he’d crawled on his knees towards him, sending Fuyuki scrambling backwards.

He would never forget how humiliated he’d felt that day. Mitora had lifted him onto his lap, sank him down onto his cock, and then he’d grabbed his chin and force-fed him, pushing bites of food into his mouth with his tongue and making sure he swallowed. Worst of all, the twisted perversion of it all had turned him on and actually made him come.

He was definitely not going to go through that again.

“I’ll fucking eat it!” he snapped, and Mitora untied the knot around his wrists while Sokabe trained the cold barrel of his gun on him. It was a clear message: there would be no mercy for disobedience.

Mitora’s the only bastard who could get hungry in the middle of something like this…!

He railed silently at the man as he forced himself to shovel the food into his mouth. None of it tasted like a damn thing to him but getting some food into his stomach did rekindle his hunger, and in the end he cleared every plate and bowl on the tray. Maybe his nerves were steel enough after all.

Mitora was the highest authority of a widespread criminal syndicate that boasted nearly ten thousand members. Such a man should have been incredibly busy, and yet for the past three days he had been glued to Fuyuki’s side. Well, even as he’d been fucking him Mitora had sometimes listened to Sokabe’s reports and growled out his decisions while a screen partition hid them from view, so Fuyuki guessed the man was doing some work. Considering Mitora’s profession (if one could even call it that), the less industriously he was working, the better off the world probably was anyway.

Either way, this is the worst.…

Sex had been waiting for him at the end of dinner. As soon as the door had slid shut behind Sokabe’s exit, Mitora had pushed him down onto the tatami.

“Watchin’ you eat really turned me on,” he’d muttered.

“I didn’t think you had such weird kinks,” Fuyuki had said nastily, but Mitora had given him a smirk.

“It’s the way your mouth moves, baby.”

The way his mouth moved? Who gave a shit about that! After the appetite for food came the appetite for sex. Fuyuki felt like he had become an actual beast.

And I’m usually sleeping when Mitora isn’t around.

Eating, sleeping, and fucking: he had humanity’s three great desires satisfied in spades. His black mood turned blacker. Was this going to be the rest of his life? Cut off from proper society, falling body and even mind under Mitora’s control?

I wonder how Dad’s doing.…

He was desperate for news of the outside world, and his own desperation reassured him somewhat. He was still okay. He could still think straight. If a day ever came when he could no longer think about anything but sex with Mitora, that would be when he had gone truly crazy.

“Reminds me, I went and saw your old man today,” Mitora whispered in his ear, arms wrapped around him from behind and hips pounding up into him as Fuyuki bounced in his lap.

“Wha—!” Fuyuki cried out in shock, and asked his most urgent question, “Was he awake?”

Mitora abused his nipples as he replied, “Yeah, he was up and talking. And,” he added maliciously, “I let him know you’re takin’ over his firm, told him it’s in good hands so he can just take his time recuperating.”

“You said what?!”

Like hell he would defend Mitora in any courtroom! If anything, he was tempted to put his bar certification to good use and restart his career as a public prosecutor so that he could throw the full authority of the law into putting Mitora behind bars!

“What, you’re still not gonna listen?” Mitora gave a strong tug on his nipples as if to punish him, and he winced in pain. “Well ain’t you cute, you hard-headed little shit.”

Mitora kept his nipples pulled away from his chest as he twisted them sharply, and Fuyuki nearly blacked out. He’d never given a second thought to the little nubs on his chest before, but during his captivity they had become very sensitive to fondling.

His body was changing in Mitora’s hands.

“Your personality’s cute, but you got a good-lookin’ face, too. You’re a real beauty now. People say kids with pretty faces grow up ugly, but not you. Every expression you make goes straight to my cock.”

“Good for you!” If it was his face Mitora liked so much, he wanted to jump onto a plastic surgeon’s operating table that instant and turn it into somebody else’s.

“You never had guys pawin’ at you with a face like that, tryin’ to get in your pants?”

“The only freak who wants to do that is you!”

“I don’t know about that. You probably just never noticed. You don’t pick up on shit like that,” he said, pinching and kneading his nipples as he spoke. There was a bitter sort of smile on his face. “Such a waste when you’re this sensitive.”

Apparently no longer amused by tugging at his nipples, Mitora snaked his hands underneath Fuyuki’s sprawled knees and started to lift him up.

“What are you—stop!”

Fuyuki knew how good it felt when the man dragged his cock out of him, and he knew the heart-pounding, toe-curling pleasure when Mitora lowered him back down onto his thick, jutting erection and made Fuyuki impale himself by his own body weight. Knowing what was coming made him flail to stop him, but of course, Mitora would never listen. His arms bulged as he hoisted Fuyuki up, and he savored the slide out of Fuyuki’s body right up until the head threatened to pop out, and then he relaxed his biceps again.

“Ahhh!” Fuyuki wailed in ecstasy as Mitora speared him deep onto his cock, easing him down until his ass pressed flush against the tops of Mitora’s thighs. He could feel the pleasure inside his skull, ravaging him, and his whole body was shaking out of his control. He was so hard his cock was bumping against his belly, pre-cum trickling in spurt after spurt down the length. But he hadn’t ejaculated yet; the pleasure was so shattering that instead it made the feeling of being right on the edge go on forever.

“I apologize for the interruption,” called Sokabe from outside the room as Fuyuki writhed, trembling and helpless.

“What is it?”

“Fuyuki’s phone keeps ringing so I brought it with me.”

“Check the name on the screen, who’s it from?”

“Yes, sir. They’re all from a woman named Miki Arimori.”

The sound of that name chilled Fuyuki to his core. Miki Arimori was the name of his current girlfriend. Why did she have to call now!

“Ain’t that interesting.” Fuyuki’s expression must have given her identity away, because something savage flickered in the look that came over Mitora’s eyes. “Throw in the phone. Ah, but don’t come in. Fuyuki’s lookin’ real sexy right now, wouldn’t want you getting tempted.”

“Yes, sir. Excuse me.” Sokabe slid the door open just a crack, and then his hand flicked out from behind a screen. The phone slid across the floor to Mitora, who reached out to take it.

“Your girl right now, she’s a stewardess, yeah?”

“Mitora, listen… just leave her alone,” he said, voice cracking with alarm. Mitora may have threatened his past girlfriends but he’d never caused any of them direct harm, and the only time he’d brought in his underlings and cornered someone had been in high school, when Fuyuki had met the only girl he’d ever asked out himself. He’d never resorted to using violence against Fuyuki before, either.

And yet now Mitora had taken him by force. There was no guarantee that he wouldn’t hurt Miki just because he’d never hurt anyone before. The man was a tyrant who used the threat of violence to get whatever he wanted.

“Ain’t gonna touch her. I don’t fuck with anyone livin’ straight.”

Or so he claimed.

But I was living straight, you asshole!

He couldn’t trust a single word that came out of Mitora’s mouth. The heat rushing through his body hadn’t dissipated, but his heart felt colder and colder with worry for what Mitora would do to Miki.

Hopefully she won’t call back again.…

But his hope was thoroughly trampled by the sound of his ringtone blaring into the room.

“Answer it.”

Mitora was gazing at him so hungrily Fuyuki was surprised the man wasn’t licking his lips. This couldn’t get any worse. But Mitora’s fist around his cock and the warning of “or you wanna see this get crushed?” had him reluctantly picking up the call.

“Hello?” His voice came out in a whisper.

“Hi, Fuyuki?” Miki, however, launched into the conversation with her usual bubbly energy. “It’s me! I just called you like ten times, why didn’t you pick up? You’re not working today, right? I mean it’s Sunday.”

“Sorry,” Fuyuki said with a sigh. Right, he hadn’t told her yet that he’d been let go from the office. Miki loved long phone conversations; was there any way he could get her to cut this one short?

“Can we see each other tonight?” she said coyly, and Fuyuki wanted to put his head in his hands.

“I can’t today,” he said quickly, managing to corral his hoarse, breathy voice into something approaching normal.

“What? Why not?”

“It’s just, short notice…”

“Oh, come on!”

As expected Miki started to whine at him over the phone, and Fuyuki was trying to figure out how to mollify her when suddenly Mitora began to move.

“Mmgh!”

“Uh, Fuyuki?”

He held his breath. Mitora had started jacking Fuyuki’s straining cock while he bucked his hips up into him, and he wasn’t playing around.

Is he trying to make me come right now? The blood drained from Fuyuki’s face. But Miki will know…!

Trying to keep quiet only intensified every sensation, until the blistering heat inside his body and his own stifled moans felt ready to burst out of him.

“…mmph…” Fuyuki tried to jerk the phone far away from his mouth, only to find his hand captured in Mitora’s. The man wrested the phone out of his grip.

“So. Your name was Miki Arimori?” Mitora said, hijacking his phone call. “Can you hear Fuyuki moanin’ for me?”

Fuyuki slapped both of his hands over his mouth, but the assault on his body only mounted.

“Ah… ahhh, oh—!” How much of his gasping cries could she hear over the phone? He couldn’t hear what she was saying.

“Got it? You’re hearin’ it for yourself, your man is now my woman. Better go find a new one.” Mitora didn’t bat an eyelash as he spoke words that made Fuyuki go white as a sheet. “I’m Mitora Komine, of the Komine-kai. Never heard of me? Try reading a fuckin’ newspaper sometimes along with all your fashion mags. And if you can’t figure it out, ask mommy and daddy, or search online.” Mitora’s low chuckle rumbled into the phone. “And then, once you’ve done all your homework, if you still can’t let him go and you think you’re prepared to rumble with me, then call this number again.” Mitora said his piece and promptly hung up the phone.

“How could you say that!” Fuyuki snarled at him, and Mitora grabbed his chin and peered into his eyes.

“The fuck do you see in a girl like that anyway?” He was shaking his head. “She ain’t much of a catch.”

“Mind your own fucking business!” Fuyuki ground his teeth together. Mitora could keep his opinions on Fuyuki’s girlfriends to his goddamn self. “And you already knew damn well when you said it!”

“Knew what?”

“That she…” That she was never, ever going to call his number again, but he couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence out loud; he would feel too pathetic. Miki was the type to turn tail and run at the first whiff of trouble, and that had been the extent of her investment in their relationship. He had no desire to blame her or call her heartless, though, not when he hadn’t been any more serious about it himself. Still, even if they’d both known it was just a fling he’d had fun with her, and he’d never expected that they would be coerced into breaking up like this.

“If you know what kind of girl she is, then I’m tellin’ you, forget about her.” Mitora pried his jaw open with his thumb and forefinger and ravished his mouth with his tongue. He loved to fuck both of Fuyuki’s holes at once.

Fuyuki resisted him with a bite to his fingers. “I can’t believe you’re doing this.… What the hell is it you’re trying to do! Going this far just to what, ‘make me yours?’” He could hardly contain himself as he lashed out in fury, “You took away my apartment, my job, my girlfriend—now what the fuck are you gonna do about it?!”

“Yeah, that’s right. Ain’t got any of that shit anymore.” He’d bitten down hard on Mitora’s hand, but the man hadn’t even flinched. Now he gazed at Fuyuki with startling earnestness. “But instead, you got me.”

Fuyuki’s spine tingled with a shiver and he stared dazedly back at him, forgetting even to keep up the pressure of his bite.

“Just… me.” He sounded so strong, so confident.

“Mitora…” Fuyuki’s breath caught in his throat. He was witnessing the astonishing depth of Mitora’s obsession, and it horrified him. So Mitora had stripped him of everything, every single thing he’d had in his life, and now at the end he wanted to foist himself onto him?

Nobody had ever come at him with such fierce passion before. Nobody had ever slammed into his defenses with the kind of ferocity that swept away his animosity, his anger, everything.

“I told you, you’re mine. I chose you to be my mate.”

“Fuck you!” Fuyuki felt like he was paddling desperately to stay afloat in the flood of Mitora’s ardent obsession. “That’s not your decision to make!”

His voice trembled even as he spoke. Not Mitora’s decision? Fuyuki knew now they were way beyond that. An obsession as covetous as this was a steamroller, and even the emotions of the obsession’s target—himself—were no more than a bump. No matter how Fuyuki felt about it, no matter if he despised the man with every fiber of his being, Mitora’s feelings would never change. The only thought in Mitora’s head was simply the drive to obtain Fuyuki, to have him all to himself. That was how tenacious his desire was.

“I love you.” Mitora’s sincere gaze was still fixed on him as he finally said the words.

They were the clincher. Fuyuki could scream himself hoarse here refusing him, but the emotion behind those three words would never waver. They were Mitora’s naked, beating heart. They were the accumulation of everything that he was.

Mitora’s tongue licked into his mouth between his pried-open teeth. Top and bottom, both of his holes were stuffed full with Mitora… and his earholes were ringing with the echoes of his vehement declaration. The only thing Fuyuki could do was take it, let Mitora in with all the sweeping ardor of his passion, until he was utterly at its mercy.