( shortly after the auctions officially close, makoto receives, in addition to the notification that he'd won yugamu's auction, an offer for what chirpy described as a complimentary "special kink package," meant to accompany wherever the date itself was scheduled in the Golden Peacock.
usually, he wouldn't give such a thing a second glance, since he'd assume it wouldn't really help, but. looking through the options, it did let him pick anywhere to plan this date. hm. maybe it might be more useful than he thought?
he'd been watching the auctions until they closed, so it's not too much longer after that when he sends yugamu a text: )
Apparently, there's some sort of event that the resort is planning about a week from now, but... There's not really any need for us to wait for something like that, is there? 🙂
[ Yugamu...honestly didn't expect anything so quickly after the doors shut on the auction, despite all his teasing. He'd been watching to see, and honestly, if Makoto hadn't reached out first, he probably would have done it himself in due time.
More just to dig and poke at him, of course; he's a patient man.
But who is he to complain, if Makoto isn't? What goes unseen is the shiver that streaks up his spine, the excited glint of his eyes reflected back at him in the watch's glass. ]
I was teasing about your eagerness, but to think you'd really want to dive right in...! Life is full of surprises. So tell me, what's on the table? Or should I say who? You've got me at your fingertips, after all.
( why would he wait around? with makoto, it really does seem that the lady doth protest too much, or at least under certain circumstances—in a public place, or on a public forum where anyone could read what he was saying, yes, he tends to be highly reticent. outside of that, though...?
well, listen. he doesn't know what it's like on yugamu's side, here, but it's been a while since he got to properly gore someone. that deep, dark side of him hadn't been indulged much at all since he'd returned to the Golden Peacock after his brief stint as a statue. he doesn't wait to reach out to yugamu because, if he did, he'd just be keeping himself up, thinking about it non-stop.
not that he'd admit to that, though. he'd hate to seem desperate (even if that is the case). so he decides not to comment on his perceived eagerness, not really trusting himself to say something that wouldn't give more away than he already has. )
Well... I did just win you...
( apparently, he has to do whatever makoto says, or something...? but he's not going to do something like that. sure, it's not exactly conscientious as a partner and all, but the selfish side of makoto would also say it was short-sighted to try to smash and grab on temporary satisfaction when building a good relationship with someone would yield more over time. )
But I'm also still bound by our deal, so it could go either way. I guess it kind of depends...
( a brief pause as he pieces together how he wants to ask this. )
If you were the one on the table, what do you think I'd be able to do without it getting too risky...? Were you serious when you said I could look inside you? Would you really let me open you up like that? Um. Assuming we have all the supplies or equipment we may need, that is.
[ In a way, he should have expected it. It's been easy to pick up from their meagre conversations that this isn't something the other gets to indulge in often. After all, even he knows their tastes are rather unconventional...nauseating to some, repulsive to others. Finding someone willing to indulge a taste for the grotesque is like finding a needle in a haystack.
And yet, here they are. Since he's not too hard on fate, he'll just stick with having an abnormally good stroke of luck.
Certainly, the concept had made his dreams a little sweeter, but Yugamu's patient. He can bide his time and wait, working up the perfect moment if need be. But he can't be blamed for the sheer enthusiasm practically radiating off every text he sends, because hasn't it really just been forever? Gutting invaders really just can't compare. ]
You sure are. But this is a special occasion, so I can really swing either way. After all, it's been so long since someone's wanted to take a peek inside of me instead...
[ The auction deal is he can do whatever he likes, but he isn't going to lie; he likes the questions. Tearing each other apart like animals isn't really his thing, after all.
But that doesn't mean it can't skirt the line. ]
Diving right in? I'm not quite as immortal as I used to be, in a sense...which is really a shame. The permanence is really the great part of the experience, but I didn't mind being able to test my limits in all sorts of new ways. But I can tell you I was dead serious.
[ A moment to catch himself before he continues. ]
A good table, a scalpel, antiseptic, some sutures, and I can let you see all of me. Every last, twitching part... I wouldn't be able to give myself painkillers just to keep myself aware enough for it, but that's fine; being able to feel you makes it all the better. You do want to touch, don't you? Oh, say you do! Just the thought of you staring deep inside me is already going to drive me crazy!
( no, yugamu certainly couldn't be blamed, and makoto certainly wouldn't blame him. his eagerness is obviously similar, even though he's better at hiding it.
really, if he looked at this logically, it would probably be better to volunteer himself, simply because he assumes that yugamu would probably take longer to recover from what is essentially thoracic surgery. makoto is fairly certain, if he was sutured properly, he'd wake up the following morning to find himself whole once more and able to go ahead and remove all the stitches. he... isn't really sure what it would mean for a normal person. he's never looked it up. let's just say he's never really been concerned with what happened after; he'd usually been under the assumption that, if he'd gotten that far, they'd probably be dead.
unfortunately, tearing someone apart like a wild animal kind of is makoto's thing, but he's reining it in. in his opinion, that would allow him the selfishness of going "first," even though it's probably not the most optimal way to approach it. )
Not as immortal as you used to be...?
( yeah, he can't help but single that out. he's heard of several individuals attaining immortality, including himself, but he's never heard of losing it.
his heart skips a beat when yugamu confirms that he'd been serious. ah... he's not the only one who needs to assert control over his composure; there's the delay of a minute or so before makoto replies, mostly because he'd had to calm himself down and reclaim his focus as well. )
As long as you're sure that wouldn't be a problem...
( one would think the pain would be just as much of a distraction, but, um... hm. kind of scary. )
Well... yeah, of course I do. It'd barely be enough, just to look...! Really, it might not be enough just to touch, but
( he briefly considers asking him to lock him into a contract that he not do anything more than that, but that kind of feels like cheating, doesn't it? passing the buck? his self-control is usually pretty good, but he's not quite gotten to the "goring" part without being able to eat anything before... it makes him nervous. )
I won't do anything you tell me not to. I promise.
[ Oh, Yugamu will take longer. There's no Revive-O-Matic to speed the process, no simple act of bleeding out or downing a freshly developed bottle of poison to reset things to their factory settings. The permanence of death is part of the beauty, the romance, but he wouldn't lie and say he didn't enjoy the opportunities offered by the ability to cheat your ending and try again.
Ah, he'll likely miss it here. But it just gives the added thrill of risk, and Yugamu is nothing if not resilient. ]
Back where I came from, we all had a nasty habit of coming back from the dead. It had some specific criteria, but it's a fascinating piece of technology.
[ The first time he'd come back after feeling the world go dark, it was been disorienting, but it left a particular thrill throbbing in his chest. It truly is a whole new world to taste death again and again, in all it's different ways. ]
It'll take me a while to heal fully, but don't you find that exciting, too? Getting to walk around with the remnants of our little peepshow throbbing with every step...wouldn't you like to see it and think of how I opened myself up for your eyes only?
[ For now, anyway. It's not going to be something he'll be able to do very often without the revival factor, in-between healing sessions, but maybe somebody else will desire a deep dive between the ribs and between the lungs? It'll sting, he'll feel sick, but the reward is far worth it. He's so worked up, it's hard to keep focusing on the screen...or rather, it's just hard in general. ]
You're really something else, Makoto-kun...I can handle myself if you act up, but I can't wait to watch you struggle with those hands inside me. [ To be on the receiving end of such want is not his norm, but it has sweat beading at the back of his neck in a shudder of desire. Oh, the images, the wait itself is killing him, he might have to just— ] Don't worry. I'll leave you satisfied.
[ Of this, at least, he's assured. ]
Where do you want me? And when? Just say the word, and I'll make time in a heartbeat. My own, if you want to get specific.
( would it be reckless endangerment if he let yugamu know that he's pretty sure death already isn't permanent in this place? that's certainly what he's heard, at least, though the rumors are mixed enough that it's not something he'd recommend or really want to try himself. to die and return takes its toll, it seems. after how miserable the time he'd spent trapped as a stone statue had been, he wasn't eager to find out the specifics of what he might lose if he dies.
ultimately, it's better if neither of them don't. so, they should just go with that. )
Oh. Okay, I get it.
( and as yugamu continues, makoto doesn't reply... if he hasn't already, he will likely figure out quickly enough that a lack of response from makoto to something like that is just as (if not more so) incriminating than if he said anything in the affirmative. he'd always assumed anyone he got so far with would end up dead... the thought of the after-effects of their time together marking and inflicting him so deeply and for so long afterward—it actually isn't something he's thought that much about.
he is now. his heart rate quickens, and the cadence of his breaths does to match it; his knuckles go white as his free hand clutches over his knee. this has to be some of the weirdest sexting that's ever been done here, right? )
Now who's being the cruel one? But, okay. I'll hold you to that.
( which does bring them to the most pertinent question: scheduling. )
Broken Wing. That's the medical wing here. Meet me there early tomorrow evening.( insert a specific time here idk )Or... well, I guess that's technically later today, since it's past midnight. They let you rent rooms there. I'll make sure we have everything else we need.
( hm... spoken like someone who has done something like this before... )
[ Most likely? Although, while it'd open a door, he'd rather not gamble on that sort of thing if he wasn't completely certain. The Revive-O-Matic had it's limits, but as long as you knew them, you could experiment as you pleased. He can't enjoy himself anymore if he takes it a bit too far and does something he's not certain he can come back from.
The idea of dying in the throes of passion isn't too bad, but he likes to consider himself somewhat responsible. He has things to do, after all; the diminishing of his pulse in visceral romance can simply wait.
Makoto doesn't reply, but that's fine. Being the strange and outlandish peas in a pod they are, he can only imagine the sort of face the other boy has right now, thoughts delving into the macabre thought of his scarred flesh...after all, he's doing it himself, and he's likely the one going under the knife. How much does that excite him? Is Makoto sitting there thinking of him, red-flushed and panting, dreaming of the sensation of his viscera between his fingers? Is he—
The ding of another text drags him back before he can get a little too into it, but he does have to adjust his hakama little. Goodness. ]
I can't help it when you make it so easy. In exchange, you can hold me to whatever you like.
[ He's thought this out, hasn't he? It can really make a guy's heart skip a beat. It also makes him wonder what else he's done in there, but he supposes he can ask for the sordid details later. ]
You got it, Makoto-kun. I wouldn't dream of being late for our little evening rendezvous. Just make sure you don't keep yourself up too late, okay? I wouldn't want you to tire yourself out before I get the chance.
[ ...Is what he says, but he ends up a hypocrite rather easily.
And if he spends the whole day with a rather excited pep in his silent steps, it can't be any fault of his. Not when he's got such important plans with a kindred spirit, one who isn't even going into it reluctantly. He may have lost the bids, but he won the lottery at the end.
And when the promised time comes around, Yugamu is more than punctual. If Makoto isn't too early himself, he might come to the sight of the other teen leisurely leaning against the wall in front of the infirmary, backlit by those vibrant hallway lights. He certainly stands out amongst all the gaudy gold and riches...not that he seems to mind, by the welcoming wave he offers. ]
Heya, Makoto-kun! Considering how most of my speed-dating efforts go, I'm glad to see you didn't stand me up.
[ ...Not that he earnestly expected him to. No, if it had been anything else, he might have anticipated, but Makoto? After the spleen in a jar, the plush collection, the offer to let Yugamu's hands writhe about in the meat and muscle of his jaw?
It might be rare, but he can tell when someone wants exactly what he's offering. ]
( oh, he can certainly ask… it’s questionable whether or not makoto would give up those details. he’s not much the type to kiss and tell, so he’s very much not the type to cannibalize and tell—especially when it would cause a small, subtle ache somewhere deep in his chest because his companion for that little encounter is nowhere to be found within the resort now. ah… a disappointment. because makoto had enjoyed his company, and he’d been able to heal from the physical trauma, and he’d also tasted incredible, for whatever reason…
he really shouldn’t be thinking about that, considering it’s not on the menu this evening. conversely, however, it will be difficult to avoid thinking about and for no fewer than a half dozen different, increasingly lurid reasons. )
I should probably say the same to you. I'll see you then.
( though, really, being kept sleepless by the coiling tension of excitement and anticipation at what awaited them later in that day was a forgone conclusion. he does manage to get some sleep, but, ultimately… well, he’d say he’ll sleep when he’s dead, but that isn’t really applicable to him any more, is it?
he does arrive early, though not so much that he manages to beat yugamu there. ah… and he thought he was overeager. whatever surprise and happiness he has at seeing him there already is tempered by the thought that it throws a wrench into what he’d been hopefully planning on (which was to have the “gift” from the resort already well in hand before the other young man arrived), but it wasn’t going to ruin anything. he was just going to look a little less put-together and prepared, is all. )
Yugamu-kun, ( he greets with a smile, though the line of his mouth shifts to an upward slash as he scoffs. )Please. As if I’d go through all this effort just to leave you hanging like that.
( listen… they’re both going to be getting a lot out of this. which is refreshing, really. what a novelty it is to go into something like this without even an ounce of guilt! (something that makoto still grappled with, due to his overly-sensitive heart.) )
Alright, come on. They should be expecting us. ( though, he does say this with faint trepidation and the aspect of a grimace settling in over his smile.
makoto leads them into the medical wing, where he walks up to the counter to greet the attendant behind it. after briefly conversing with them, they seem to understand all at once—ah! so, these are the two that had scheduled their resort-sanctioned auction date here, of all places. the orderly confirms that a “gift” to help them along in this had already be prepared and produces it: a long, rectangular box which makoto accepts with polite gratitude. glancing sidelong at yugamu, he tilts the box and peeks inside away from the other teenager’s gaze, thinking he might as well make sure it’s what he expected—
it’s not. there seems to be some sort of misunderstanding. from what a cursory glance can tell him, it looks as though the box is filled with… costuming and accoutrement of what one would need to role-play some sort of doctor’s visit gone horribly, sexually awry. that’s… not exactly what the two of them are going for here. makoto freezes, goes red, and then thrusts the box back out to the attendant, who looks at him with confusion. )
I—I, um, I already spoke to someone when scheduling the date here, ( he tries to clarify to them, getting redder by the moment. ) I don’t remember their name, but they should know…
( it’s fortunate, then, that it’s at this moment that another orderly approaches. makoto actually remembers this one—they were one of the ones that had been present the last time he was here, chuckling and tittering knowingly as he had gone into one of the rooms with charlie. they seem to recognize him as well, taking one look at the box that the other attendant was holding and bursting out laughing. makoto looks mortified at this whole exchange, though he puts up with it, so long as doing so gets him what he actually paid for. this second attendant takes the box and, after disappearing behind a door for a moment, returns with another, giving it to makoto with a knowing look between both him and yugamu. they even go so far as to wink after he accepted it.
he double-checks the contents of this particular gift before nodding hurriedly, thanking the two in a much more clipped, nervous manner. they direct him towards a room (it’s actually the same one he went to last time… somehow, all of this makes him feel like he’s being made fun of…!), which he quickly makes a beeline for, not even bothering to make sure that yugamu is following and just sort of trusting that he would.
the demon is letting out an anxious sigh once inside of the room—a rather nondescript medical space equipped with an examination table, a sink, several cabinets, and all the usual features. he doesn’t even really want to explain the embarrassment he’d just suffered to yugamu; it was bad enough that he’d be able to draw his own conclusion from it. to bypass that, and thoroughly distract him, makoto offers the box to him instead, explaining, ) Winning bids were given a special gift, depending on where they scheduled their dates… So when I reached out to the staff here, I gave them some very detailed instructions. I figured you’d be happy with it.
( remember when makoto said he’d make sure they had everything they needed? it’s all there in the box. antiseptic, bandages, sutures, and, of course, a scalpel, among an assortment of other equipment and materials that might be needed for more… real medical exploration, rather than just medical play. )
We’re supposed to return the equipment when we’re done… ( mostly the scalpel. the resort does try to keep a lock on weapons, after all. ) But I’m sure we can think of something to make sure you can keep it.
[ It's easy for him to notice the little twitches; not quite disappointment, but something else. Not anticipating him being that early, perhaps? Yugamu is something of an early bird with the occasional indulgent exceptions, a consequence of his upbringing, but the tantalizing prospect of being inside a proper infirmary did put a bit more pep in his step than usual. The Academy lacked one, and while you could get medical supplies from the Revive-O-Matic and sterilize the Bio Lab, it wasn't truly the same thing.
Not even in a sexy way. Not that it isn't, of course, but he just as an appreciation that extends past the erotica of it all. ]
Oh, I wouldn't have minded a bit of humiliation play if you wanted to make me wait for it just a little...but this is good, too.
[ Yugamu's head tilts slightly at the trepidation, but he mercifully decides to keep his tongue on it for now. He has, after all, because fairly acquainted with Makoto's hesitance and how he worries about the opinions of others. He's merely Makoto's shadow as he navigates to the desk, leaning and giving a cheery little wave to the attendant from his position at the other's back, and lets his eyes linger with a tinge of curiosity on the box that's pulled out and handed over. Yes, he does pout when Makoto tilts it so he can't see, and if he were in a more mischievous mood he'd be tempted to slither those long, long arms around the other side and pluck it from his grasp just to take a itsy bitsy little peek—
Not that he has to, because Makoto is shoving it back with visible mortification after a moment of computing, Yugamu's eyes managing to glimpse white cloth and what seems to be astethoscope inside before it's tilted a bit too much out of his range of sight. And that's really all he needs to see to put the pieces together, lips splitting into a dangerous grin that the attendant probably catches. Not what they were going for, evidently, but Yugamu certainly isn't opposed. Ah, but Makoto's stuttering is cute...could he drag something like that out of him if he pushed it a little later? That confidence is appealing, but his shyness is, too....
Yugamu is content to soak in all of Makoto's embarrassment with vigor at the appearance of another employee, before another box comes out into play. Makoto is much more quick with this one, not even letting the smaller boy a peek before he deems it acceptable. The clipped, hurried way he seems eager to run like a mouse under scrutiny is undoubtedly erotic, and Yugamu is content to follow after without complaint...not without offering the orderlies another grin and wave on the way out. He is eager himself, merely in a different way, and he makes sure the door clicks shut firmly behind him as he steps in after Makoto.
Ah, a real infirmary. Nondescript, nothing of the surgeon's variety, but he breathes in that clean smell of antiseptic and finds himself relaxing a tad. Figures they'd clean everything after use...although he curious, if they set aside certain rooms for this or if they merely cycle out which is used professionally and unprofessionally. Things to wonder about for later, since he turns to find that box being foisted off on himself instead. ]
For me, Makoto-kun? [ A grin, with teeth. ] You shouldn't have.
[ Oh, but he should. All the good things, fine white bandages and gleaming sterilized needles, painkillers and medical-grade stitches. He feels as excited as he does whenever Takumi hands him a fresh box of medical supplies from the Revive-O-Matic, face tinging with that horridly familiar flush as his eyes gleam. ]
You really are a man after my own heart...! I could tell you through which ribs, but I'm sure you're familiar with that by now, aren't you? [ The scalpel taps against Makoto's chest, over the sternum. ] I'm certain I can slip a few things out, even if they don't want us to. But the fact you thought of that is making my heart race...
[ Too much, perhaps. Yugamu is already getting to work, as it were, slipping things out of the box to the tray beside the examination table, picking up the bottle of disinfectant just for good measure. He is a professional, at his core, even when it comes to less than medically acceptable things. ]
Tell me, Makoto-kun...have you ever watched someone do this before? [ The needles are fine, packaged as they are, but he works on the scalpel and tray itself, forceps, just in case. Slowly, but perhaps painfully so. ] Or are you a little more messy? I don't mind either...but the appeal of a clean cut has always appealed to me more. That's why I've always been fond of dissections. All neatly cut open, sectioned properly— like an art piece ready to be disassembled. [ A tap as he sets the blade down, turning with a smile. ] I suppose if you haven't, I'll just have to show you the appeal.
[ Ah, but first things first. A hand raises to the corner of his haori hanging over his shoulders, poised to pull, before he pauses and drops it with a hum. Actually... ]
...You're the one who did win me, so I suppose I'm at your mercy, aren't I? [ He lets a finger drag to the dip of his kimono, tugging at it carefully. If his nail digs into the skin just a bit, he hardly notices. ] I'm not averse to a good strip tease...but if you'd like to do it yourself, I'm all yours.
( that makoto seems a little put on the back foot by yugamu being there earlier than himself is more of a leftover, ingrained instinct from what he’d learned in hell and little more. in a place where power is fundamentally constructed by the perception of having it, it was very important to present as flawless and unassailable, both in image and in machinations. there, yugamu’s early presence here would be seen more as an insidious effort to undermine him rather than eagerness… that having been said, makoto is well aware he is no longer playing the demons’ dangerous game of politics, so that’s most likely not the case. he discards the thought, and he isn’t quite able to stifle a laugh. )
As tempting as that sounds, ( and it really does sound rather tempting… makoto hates being the subject of any sort of humiliation, but dishing it out instead? hm, ) I think there’s more to be gained by avoiding any further delays.
( now, everything that he knows about yugamu has already informed him to expect that the other young man will be scrutinizing (or should I say “dissecting” instead?) every aspect of the exchange that follows. knowing this only makes it that much more mortifying. here he is, trapped between Scylla (the attendants) and Charybdis (yugamu), or at least as far as his petrifying embarrassment is concerned. can he be blamed that all he wants to do is scurry away at the earliest possible social convenience? as he retreats toward the indicated room, it’s easy enough to see how his anxiety had drenched down the back of his neck, painting both it and the tips of his ears in a flush of red hot enough to burn. there’s no way he can address the interaction at the front desk in a way that wouldn’t just make it all worse, so he brusquely charges past it, offering the gift box to yugamu to preempt whatever he might be tempted to say about it. it’s his educated guess that the contents would be more than enough to distract him from such a thing.
and it seems… that guess is entirely on-target. the relief is immediate and palpable. tension eases out of his shoulders, and it’s now much easier to drag his gaze up from where it had previously sunken like a leaden weight down towards the tiled floor. he’s still red as his eyes track downward to follow the glint of the blade as it taps lightly against his chest, but this time much more pleasantly so. he shrugs with a small, wry smile. ) I figured that it was too good of an opportunity for you to pass up.
( the scalpel was, after all, far better attuned to yugamu’s own preferences and prerogatives. it seems he’s already picked up on that they might differ in that, with the way he continues. makoto tags along gravitationally, watching the quick, assured motions as the other teenager makes quick work of organizing the supplies. )
Oh. I—I, um… ( a brief pause. ) Not in person. I’ve seen videos…
( the caginess gives the impression of what the purpose of that had been. the over-the-top, fictionalized gore of slasher movies and other fiction had never “worked” to satisfy his more taboo desires. medical gore had been the closest thing he could find, and even then, it hadn’t quite felt like enough either. he’d always felt too frightened or guilty to look up anything really dark and fucked up, which is probably for the best—if either of his parents had found evidence of that, they might have killed him for real.
yugamu would know by now that, were they not in private, makoto would staunchly refuse any of these lines of questioning. now, though… he’s goaded across the threshold into answering, but he is clearly unaccustomed and a little awkward in doing so. ) I, ah, used a knife… ( he’s not particularly good at lying (not yet, anyway), so it’s obvious when he’s not giving the whole truth—especially when he grapples between his gut instinct to hide the worst of his truths at all cost and the fledgling, ecstatic hope that he actually didn’t have to here. has yugamu given him any reason in any of their interactions to think that he’d judge him for any of the kinks that he had, even the most taboo ones? when he continues, his eyes are downcast again, his voice small. ) …And my teeth.
( two very different approaches, indeed. for makoto, the unrestrained “mess” has always been part of the appeal.
not that he’s not interested in broadening his horizons, though. he braves looking back up to the other young man. ) It just always seemed a little—impersonal, like that. Too… clinical and detached. But, um—I’m more than happy for you to change my mind…!
( when yugamu’s hand lifts to his haori, makoto is already resigned to watch—the thought to undress him himself doesn’t occur until the other teenager poses the option. the demon blinks owlishly, thinking it over, caught between the tantalizing prospect of him stripping for him and the similarly tantalizing (but in a different way) prospect of doing it himself.
in the Golden Peacock, makoto has made intentional, purposeful strides in becoming more active in intimacy—reclaiming the agency that he’d seen as lost or otherwise buried while working for datenshou in hell had been important to him, and it still is. oftentimes, he pushes himself to this end even when he can’t exactly do quite as well as he mentally pictures himself to be able to. this begins to play out once more as resolution settles over his expression; his eyes lid half-closed as he steps forward, this time being the one to cut into yugamu’s personal space (he knows from experience that he wouldn’t mind). as he reaches up to unfasten the string at the front of his haori, he replies, ) Well, I’m not going to be able to cut into you, so I might as well be able to do this, right? ( there’s a hint of a sly smile and a cant to his head as his palms press against either side of yugamu’s chest, sweeping up and over his shoulders to cause the coat to fall away from them and onto the floor.
this part, he accomplishes rather effectively, if he says so himself. as for the next step, however… his eyes cast down, and he’s already finding himself slipping. it’s been years since he’s worn traditional clothing, and it’s not like he’d worn it all that often when he’d been alive, either—and certainly not to the extent that yugamu seems intent on wearing it. fuck. a flicker of panic sparks up inside the cavity of his chest, but he attempts to crush it, focusing. well, it’s not like he’s going to be able to get his kimono off of him before he gets the hakama off, but it’s not like makoto has ever worn hakama before himself. and it’s not like it’s tied in a way where he can just pull a string and it’s going to easily come undone! (that’d be rather unintuitive.) makoto makes progress on the knot that’s tied at his waist, but it’s not nearly so smooth or suave as he’d hoped to come off… his embarrassment dovetails cleanly with burgeoning irritation as his teeth set in frustration, and he mutters fiercely under his breath, ) Of course you have to wear—all of this traditional clothing…!
[ Being flawless sounds good in principle, or at least the presentation of it, but Yugamu can't truly fathom it himself. Being flawed is what makes people interesting, and he's never really shied away from showing parts of himself that his parents or other people consider to be less than ideal. Really, someone who kills people for money can't really consider themselves to be perfect in the first place. That being said, it's natural to want to give off that powerful image once in a while.
There's a thrill is establishing yourself in the pecking order. In making someone think you're smaller, that they have all the power over you, right before the teeth sink into their jugular. Making an attempt to appear nonthreatening does come with the job, but he's come to enjoy it....especially when it comes to people doing the same. The two of them, for instance, stand on one platform on opposing ends that seems to teeter back and forth. Almost a tug of war. Yugamu finds he likes the cut of Makoto's teeth, but he'd also love to pull them out, one by one.
Thoughts that are dangerous for one to have with his hands on a set of sharp surgical implements. Hmmm. ]
And you thought right! If you keep spoiling me like this, I might find it hard to contain myself....
[ Some people like chocolates and flowers, but Makoto shoving a box full of hemostatics, disinfectant, and surgical steel into Yugamu's arms is tantamount to a trail of roses level of seduction. Were he not winding himself up for the main course, he'd likely feel that bloodthirsty twitch in his fingers far more than he already is. The image of lovingly sinking that scalpel into those stitches curved around Makoto's throat shoots violently to mind, and it certainly shoots blood somewhere else violently in the same vein. No pun intended.
Despite the fantasizing, however, Yugamu is listening. Despite how he might think and act, there's a genuine interest in how the other boy has managed to sate or chase his desires thus far, the sorts of things he's done to admire the more taboo tastes he tries to hide from others less inclined to accept it. Yugamu doesn't hide the way his grin curls further at the admittance, because yes, it does tell him enough. ]
Videos are always good, although the commentary might kill it for me. I've always liked the textbooks with all their beautifully detailed diagrams, myself... [ With the way he promptly giggles, it's obvious what he was using those for. ] Not that pictures can hold a candle to the real thing. Even pictures aren't as good as being able to witness all those twitching organs with your eyes.
[ Makoto keeps going, and perhaps at this point, anyone who would dare to get this far would turn back. Some people have limits, after all; even people into hardcore fetishes have something that make their stomachs turn. But Yugamu's is lined with steel and his wires are crossed wrong, so the murmurs of knives that slink into teeth merely have his eyes widening in a sort of thrilled, manic fervor that one would mistake for being directed at something far more tame. ]
Do you like using your teeth? You did mention wanting to fix your bite, after all...[ Despite Yugamu's interest in the clinical, the medical, the disinfectant and forceps, this is a territory he doesn't mind treading. ] We were given them for a reason, so why shouldn't we use them? That sensation of sinking them into skin really is something like no other....you have some good taste, man.
[ And how could he ever judge, when his own are so sharp? Nobody said he only liked it when the taste of blood on his tongue was his own. ]
That's the problem; they go at it too detached. Cutting into someone has to be a labor of love— [ Emphasis on love. ] Cherishing every last little piece, cutting it out just so...wrapping your hands around everything that makes them real. You just need to watch someone go in with all the affection they can offer.
[ Which is him. Certainly, he likes to be the one wearing the gloves and the mask, hovering over and making incisions in a body that isn't his, but he doesn't mind this, either. Not when he can guide someone how to touch him just right, which parts of him to squeeze and stroke with the hunger he knows is brewing beneath the skin.
But it's hard to do that clothed. So, here they are.
Oh, he's glad Makoto took his offer. Whilst Yugamu doesn't mind stripping slow for someone to enjoy, who is he to deny someone a chance to do it for him? Seeing him without clothes tends to be an affair that usually ends in screams and death threats ( not that he particularly minds ), so someone with an eagerness to drag him to that state is a breath of fresh air. He meets that sly smile with one of his own, Yugamu content to merely lean back on the curve of his heels to let the other boy get to work.
Or attempt to, anyway; his haori falls to the floor in a smooth pile of woven organs, but it's impossible to miss that flash in the other boy's eyes. A nicer person would have felt guilt, but unfortunately, it merely makes the curve of his smile wider. The power scale here does tend to tip, and Yugamu is more than happy to watch Makoto struggle with such adorable, earnest irritation. And it's only the waistboard knot, too; there's another to go! He is fully aware his style of dress is a bit outdated, and perhaps that's why he even offered in the first place; to watch him suffer, just a little. Maybe more than a little. ]
What's the matter, Makoto-kun? [ Yugamu's voice is low, with an almost amused hum. He's peering from beneath the shadow of dyed bangs, something humorous and sharp glinting. ] The best presents are the hardest to unwrap. But if you're having trouble—
[ A hand with it's sharp, sharp nails settles on those hand, and he leans in just a bit, slipping one finger teasingly through one of the tight strings that make up the knots. ]
Should I help you?
[ He could, after all, do this in arguably a minute. But this is really just to light the fire; he's certain someone won't like the implication he can't do it himself. ]
( makoto is at least somewhat aware of the intrinsic danger in giving someone who has openly professed to wanting to kill, torture, or otherwise surgically dismember him some of the tools he could use to do just those things. part of this is misplaced confidence that verges on arrogance—even without the strange magic of this place that he knows prevents them from dying, makoto is self-assured in his own immortality. he doesn’t think there’s anything yugamu could do to him that would actually stick. he’s been beheaded enough times to have a certain feeling of that. the rest of it, though, is that… he wants to trust the guy. if he can’t trust someone who might actually, on a real level and not just on the bare minimum of “acceptance,” understand and even operate on similar levels of fucked-up fixations and sexual fetishes, who else could he ever hope to open up to?
(though, in this case, that “opening up” will inevitably be literal in addition to figurative.)
listening to yugamu’s reply, he can’t help but remember the conversation he’d had with aak; when they’d been playing truth or dare with one another, sure, the Feline had kind of forced it out of him that his treasured, disembodied spleen had featured heavily in one of the more recent times he’d jacked off, he similarly learned that one of the more embarrassing things that aak had masturbated to had been medical textbooks like the ones yugamu describes. makoto can understand it, though, yes, the inert illustrations had always felt titillating but not quite enough for him. he not only wanted to see the twitch and pulse of life through the requisite parts of the human body, he wanted to feel them—he wanted to sink his fingers into them before sinking his teeth into them, ripping what was so essentially someone else from them so he could take and consume it as his own. it was an act that was, at its core, violent, consumptive, and possessive, but there’s a shard of something reverent to it as well. to makoto, there was simply no better way to show someone how much he wanted them—how much he cares for them. but that’s something that’s still hard for him to put into words; there’s still a part of him that’s so ashamed of it that he won’t allow himself to acknowledge it as a personal truth.
he nods dumbly, and, after a moment, he nods again—though something embedded in what yugamu says has him replying in a sharp retort, ) I don’t need to fix anything. I— ( he realizes only after the brief irritation fades that it was probably unwarranted. it just abrased against his pride, to suffer the insinuation that his teeth weren’t good enough and needed someone else to fix them. considering what he was working with, he’d done pretty impressively just on horniness and willpower alone…! ) It could just stand to be, easier, is all.
( they have very different views on this. yes, makoto admit that ripping someone open and tearing into their innards like some sort of ravening beast was, in his mind, an act of desire of the highest order, love is a concept he has a harder time speaking about so simply. the only love he’d ever felt had been something that betrayal, pain, fear, and anger had followed hot on the heels of. in a way, it had poisoned the well; it had made him realize that such a feeling was a weakness waiting to be exploited. he can understand the attention and the reverence that yugamu talks about, though, even if makoto would probably couch them in slightly different concepts. )
…Okay.
( really, it makes him a little guilty that he’d insisted on yugamu being the subject of all of this first, but… there’d be more time for yugamu to show him the other side of this sort of exchange later, right?
the guilt disappears as rapidly as morning dew beneath the harsh glare of the morning sun, especially when makoto’s irritation and burgeoning embarrassment is exacerbated by a yugamu who is… enjoying this a little too much. he might similarly enjoy too much the venomous glare that the demon turns on him at the tone of his voice; he hates to be teased, the wound of having felt like little more than an amusement while living in Hell a raw and painful one. he goes still for a moment, jaw clenching; the metallic discs of his irises are paper-thin partitions which one can basically see the ideation of reaching for his knife as the quickest and bloodiest way to shut yugamu up playing out behind their almost luminescent surfaces.
with the other young man’s hands settling over his own and the offer hanging in the air between them, makoto finds himself caught between his characteristic pride and his characteristic understanding of his own limitations—and not to mention his own shortcomings. yugamu is right: he hates the idea that he can’t do it himself, and he knows that he could… but could he do so with the speed and skill that he’d like to? would being ruled by his pride and insisting just open him up to more mocking? it’s hard to decide which poison is more palatable to drink.
ultimately, he concedes; something that he likely wouldn’t have done with a demon or anyone else that he knew for a fact would hold it against him as some sort of failure or defeat.
he speaks tersely, through thin, wan lips, ) How about you just show me what to do before I decide it’s faster and easier to just cut all of this off of you?
( considering yugamu is a Two, it’s more of a financial threat than anything else. )
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@fausteen | text | backdated to aug 9
usually, he wouldn't give such a thing a second glance, since he'd assume it wouldn't really help, but. looking through the options, it did let him pick anywhere to plan this date. hm. maybe it might be more useful than he thought?
he'd been watching the auctions until they closed, so it's not too much longer after that when he sends yugamu a text: )
Apparently, there's some sort of event that the resort is planning about a week from now, but...
There's not really any need for us to wait for something like that, is there? 🙂
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More just to dig and poke at him, of course; he's a patient man.
But who is he to complain, if Makoto isn't? What goes unseen is the shiver that streaks up his spine, the excited glint of his eyes reflected back at him in the watch's glass. ]
I was teasing about your eagerness, but to think you'd really want to dive right in...! Life is full of surprises.
So tell me, what's on the table? Or should I say who?
You've got me at your fingertips, after all.
cw: gore mention, etc., from here on down
well, listen. he doesn't know what it's like on yugamu's side, here, but it's been a while since he got to properly gore someone. that deep, dark side of him hadn't been indulged much at all since he'd returned to the Golden Peacock after his brief stint as a statue. he doesn't wait to reach out to yugamu because, if he did, he'd just be keeping himself up, thinking about it non-stop.
not that he'd admit to that, though. he'd hate to seem desperate (even if that is the case). so he decides not to comment on his perceived eagerness, not really trusting himself to say something that wouldn't give more away than he already has. )
Well... I did just win you...
( apparently, he has to do whatever makoto says, or something...? but he's not going to do something like that. sure, it's not exactly conscientious as a partner and all, but the selfish side of makoto would also say it was short-sighted to try to smash and grab on temporary satisfaction when building a good relationship with someone would yield more over time. )
But I'm also still bound by our deal, so it could go either way.
I guess it kind of depends...
( a brief pause as he pieces together how he wants to ask this. )
If you were the one on the table, what do you think I'd be able to do without it getting too risky...?
Were you serious when you said I could look inside you? Would you really let me open you up like that?
Um. Assuming we have all the supplies or equipment we may need, that is.
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And yet, here they are. Since he's not too hard on fate, he'll just stick with having an abnormally good stroke of luck.
Certainly, the concept had made his dreams a little sweeter, but Yugamu's patient. He can bide his time and wait, working up the perfect moment if need be. But he can't be blamed for the sheer enthusiasm practically radiating off every text he sends, because hasn't it really just been forever? Gutting invaders really just can't compare. ]
You sure are. But this is a special occasion, so I can really swing either way. After all, it's been so long since someone's wanted to take a peek inside of me instead...
[ The auction deal is he can do whatever he likes, but he isn't going to lie; he likes the questions. Tearing each other apart like animals isn't really his thing, after all.
But that doesn't mean it can't skirt the line. ]
Diving right in? I'm not quite as immortal as I used to be, in a sense...which is really a shame. The permanence is really the great part of the experience, but I didn't mind being able to test my limits in all sorts of new ways. But I can tell you I was dead serious.
[ A moment to catch himself before he continues. ]
A good table, a scalpel, antiseptic, some sutures, and I can let you see all of me. Every last, twitching part...
I wouldn't be able to give myself painkillers just to keep myself aware enough for it, but that's fine; being able to feel you makes it all the better. You do want to touch, don't you? Oh, say you do! Just the thought of you staring deep inside me is already going to drive me crazy!
cw: cannibalism mention
really, if he looked at this logically, it would probably be better to volunteer himself, simply because he assumes that yugamu would probably take longer to recover from what is essentially thoracic surgery. makoto is fairly certain, if he was sutured properly, he'd wake up the following morning to find himself whole once more and able to go ahead and remove all the stitches. he... isn't really sure what it would mean for a normal person. he's never looked it up. let's just say he's never really been concerned with what happened after; he'd usually been under the assumption that, if he'd gotten that far, they'd probably be dead.
unfortunately, tearing someone apart like a wild animal kind of is makoto's thing, but he's reining it in. in his opinion, that would allow him the selfishness of going "first," even though it's probably not the most optimal way to approach it. )
Not as immortal as you used to be...?
( yeah, he can't help but single that out. he's heard of several individuals attaining immortality, including himself, but he's never heard of losing it.
his heart skips a beat when yugamu confirms that he'd been serious. ah... he's not the only one who needs to assert control over his composure; there's the delay of a minute or so before makoto replies, mostly because he'd had to calm himself down and reclaim his focus as well. )
As long as you're sure that wouldn't be a problem...
( one would think the pain would be just as much of a distraction, but, um... hm. kind of scary. )
Well... yeah, of course I do. It'd barely be enough, just to look...!
Really, it might not be enough just to touch, but
( he briefly considers asking him to lock him into a contract that he not do anything more than that, but that kind of feels like cheating, doesn't it? passing the buck? his self-control is usually pretty good, but he's not quite gotten to the "goring" part without being able to eat anything before... it makes him nervous. )
I won't do anything you tell me not to. I promise.
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Ah, he'll likely miss it here. But it just gives the added thrill of risk, and Yugamu is nothing if not resilient. ]
Back where I came from, we all had a nasty habit of coming back from the dead. It had some specific criteria, but it's a fascinating piece of technology.
[ The first time he'd come back after feeling the world go dark, it was been disorienting, but it left a particular thrill throbbing in his chest. It truly is a whole new world to taste death again and again, in all it's different ways. ]
It'll take me a while to heal fully, but don't you find that exciting, too? Getting to walk around with the remnants of our little peepshow throbbing with every step...wouldn't you like to see it and think of how I opened myself up for your eyes only?
[ For now, anyway. It's not going to be something he'll be able to do very often without the revival factor, in-between healing sessions, but maybe somebody else will desire a deep dive between the ribs and between the lungs? It'll sting, he'll feel sick, but the reward is far worth it. He's so worked up, it's hard to keep focusing on the screen...or rather, it's just hard in general. ]
You're really something else, Makoto-kun...I can handle myself if you act up, but I can't wait to watch you struggle with those hands inside me. [ To be on the receiving end of such want is not his norm, but it has sweat beading at the back of his neck in a shudder of desire. Oh, the images, the wait itself is killing him, he might have to just— ] Don't worry. I'll leave you satisfied.
[ Of this, at least, he's assured. ]
Where do you want me? And when? Just say the word, and I'll make time in a heartbeat. My own, if you want to get specific.
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ultimately, it's better if neither of them don't. so, they should just go with that. )
Oh. Okay, I get it.
( and as yugamu continues, makoto doesn't reply... if he hasn't already, he will likely figure out quickly enough that a lack of response from makoto to something like that is just as (if not more so) incriminating than if he said anything in the affirmative. he'd always assumed anyone he got so far with would end up dead... the thought of the after-effects of their time together marking and inflicting him so deeply and for so long afterward—it actually isn't something he's thought that much about.
he is now. his heart rate quickens, and the cadence of his breaths does to match it; his knuckles go white as his free hand clutches over his knee. this has to be some of the weirdest sexting that's ever been done here, right? )
Now who's being the cruel one?
But, okay. I'll hold you to that.
( which does bring them to the most pertinent question: scheduling. )
Broken Wing. That's the medical wing here.
Meet me there early tomorrow evening. ( insert a specific time here idk ) Or... well, I guess that's technically later today, since it's past midnight.
They let you rent rooms there. I'll make sure we have everything else we need.
( hm... spoken like someone who has done something like this before... )
> action
The idea of dying in the throes of passion isn't too bad, but he likes to consider himself somewhat responsible. He has things to do, after all; the diminishing of his pulse in visceral romance can simply wait.
Makoto doesn't reply, but that's fine. Being the strange and outlandish peas in a pod they are, he can only imagine the sort of face the other boy has right now, thoughts delving into the macabre thought of his scarred flesh...after all, he's doing it himself, and he's likely the one going under the knife. How much does that excite him? Is Makoto sitting there thinking of him, red-flushed and panting, dreaming of the sensation of his viscera between his fingers? Is he—
The ding of another text drags him back before he can get a little too into it, but he does have to adjust his hakama little. Goodness. ]
I can't help it when you make it so easy.
In exchange, you can hold me to whatever you like.
[ He's thought this out, hasn't he? It can really make a guy's heart skip a beat. It also makes him wonder what else he's done in there, but he supposes he can ask for the sordid details later. ]
You got it, Makoto-kun.
I wouldn't dream of being late for our little evening rendezvous.
Just make sure you don't keep yourself up too late, okay? I wouldn't want you to tire yourself out before I get the chance.
[ ...Is what he says, but he ends up a hypocrite rather easily.
And if he spends the whole day with a rather excited pep in his silent steps, it can't be any fault of his. Not when he's got such important plans with a kindred spirit, one who isn't even going into it reluctantly. He may have lost the bids, but he won the lottery at the end.
And when the promised time comes around, Yugamu is more than punctual. If Makoto isn't too early himself, he might come to the sight of the other teen leisurely leaning against the wall in front of the infirmary, backlit by those vibrant hallway lights. He certainly stands out amongst all the gaudy gold and riches...not that he seems to mind, by the welcoming wave he offers. ]
Heya, Makoto-kun! Considering how most of my speed-dating efforts go, I'm glad to see you didn't stand me up.
[ ...Not that he earnestly expected him to. No, if it had been anything else, he might have anticipated, but Makoto? After the spleen in a jar, the plush collection, the offer to let Yugamu's hands writhe about in the meat and muscle of his jaw?
It might be rare, but he can tell when someone wants exactly what he's offering. ]
no subject
he really shouldn’t be thinking about that, considering it’s not on the menu this evening. conversely, however, it will be difficult to avoid thinking about and for no fewer than a half dozen different, increasingly lurid reasons. )
I should probably say the same to you.
I'll see you then.
( though, really, being kept sleepless by the coiling tension of excitement and anticipation at what awaited them later in that day was a forgone conclusion. he does manage to get some sleep, but, ultimately… well, he’d say he’ll sleep when he’s dead, but that isn’t really applicable to him any more, is it?
he does arrive early, though not so much that he manages to beat yugamu there. ah… and he thought he was overeager. whatever surprise and happiness he has at seeing him there already is tempered by the thought that it throws a wrench into what he’d been hopefully planning on (which was to have the “gift” from the resort already well in hand before the other young man arrived), but it wasn’t going to ruin anything. he was just going to look a little less put-together and prepared, is all. )
Yugamu-kun, ( he greets with a smile, though the line of his mouth shifts to an upward slash as he scoffs. ) Please. As if I’d go through all this effort just to leave you hanging like that.
( listen… they’re both going to be getting a lot out of this. which is refreshing, really. what a novelty it is to go into something like this without even an ounce of guilt! (something that makoto still grappled with, due to his overly-sensitive heart.) )
Alright, come on. They should be expecting us. ( though, he does say this with faint trepidation and the aspect of a grimace settling in over his smile.
makoto leads them into the medical wing, where he walks up to the counter to greet the attendant behind it. after briefly conversing with them, they seem to understand all at once—ah! so, these are the two that had scheduled their resort-sanctioned auction date here, of all places. the orderly confirms that a “gift” to help them along in this had already be prepared and produces it: a long, rectangular box which makoto accepts with polite gratitude. glancing sidelong at yugamu, he tilts the box and peeks inside away from the other teenager’s gaze, thinking he might as well make sure it’s what he expected—
it’s not. there seems to be some sort of misunderstanding. from what a cursory glance can tell him, it looks as though the box is filled with… costuming and accoutrement of what one would need to role-play some sort of doctor’s visit gone horribly, sexually awry. that’s… not exactly what the two of them are going for here. makoto freezes, goes red, and then thrusts the box back out to the attendant, who looks at him with confusion. )
I—I, um, I already spoke to someone when scheduling the date here, ( he tries to clarify to them, getting redder by the moment. ) I don’t remember their name, but they should know…
( it’s fortunate, then, that it’s at this moment that another orderly approaches. makoto actually remembers this one—they were one of the ones that had been present the last time he was here, chuckling and tittering knowingly as he had gone into one of the rooms with charlie. they seem to recognize him as well, taking one look at the box that the other attendant was holding and bursting out laughing. makoto looks mortified at this whole exchange, though he puts up with it, so long as doing so gets him what he actually paid for. this second attendant takes the box and, after disappearing behind a door for a moment, returns with another, giving it to makoto with a knowing look between both him and yugamu. they even go so far as to wink after he accepted it.
he double-checks the contents of this particular gift before nodding hurriedly, thanking the two in a much more clipped, nervous manner. they direct him towards a room (it’s actually the same one he went to last time… somehow, all of this makes him feel like he’s being made fun of…!), which he quickly makes a beeline for, not even bothering to make sure that yugamu is following and just sort of trusting that he would.
the demon is letting out an anxious sigh once inside of the room—a rather nondescript medical space equipped with an examination table, a sink, several cabinets, and all the usual features. he doesn’t even really want to explain the embarrassment he’d just suffered to yugamu; it was bad enough that he’d be able to draw his own conclusion from it. to bypass that, and thoroughly distract him, makoto offers the box to him instead, explaining, ) Winning bids were given a special gift, depending on where they scheduled their dates… So when I reached out to the staff here, I gave them some very detailed instructions. I figured you’d be happy with it.
( remember when makoto said he’d make sure they had everything they needed? it’s all there in the box. antiseptic, bandages, sutures, and, of course, a scalpel, among an assortment of other equipment and materials that might be needed for more… real medical exploration, rather than just medical play. )
We’re supposed to return the equipment when we’re done… ( mostly the scalpel. the resort does try to keep a lock on weapons, after all. ) But I’m sure we can think of something to make sure you can keep it.
no subject
Not even in a sexy way. Not that it isn't, of course, but he just as an appreciation that extends past the erotica of it all. ]
Oh, I wouldn't have minded a bit of humiliation play if you wanted to make me wait for it just a little...but this is good, too.
[ Yugamu's head tilts slightly at the trepidation, but he mercifully decides to keep his tongue on it for now. He has, after all, because fairly acquainted with Makoto's hesitance and how he worries about the opinions of others. He's merely Makoto's shadow as he navigates to the desk, leaning and giving a cheery little wave to the attendant from his position at the other's back, and lets his eyes linger with a tinge of curiosity on the box that's pulled out and handed over. Yes, he does pout when Makoto tilts it so he can't see, and if he were in a more mischievous mood he'd be tempted to slither those long, long arms around the other side and pluck it from his grasp just to take a itsy bitsy little peek—
Not that he has to, because Makoto is shoving it back with visible mortification after a moment of computing, Yugamu's eyes managing to glimpse white cloth and what seems to be astethoscope inside before it's tilted a bit too much out of his range of sight. And that's really all he needs to see to put the pieces together, lips splitting into a dangerous grin that the attendant probably catches. Not what they were going for, evidently, but Yugamu certainly isn't opposed. Ah, but Makoto's stuttering is cute...could he drag something like that out of him if he pushed it a little later? That confidence is appealing, but his shyness is, too....
Yugamu is content to soak in all of Makoto's embarrassment with vigor at the appearance of another employee, before another box comes out into play. Makoto is much more quick with this one, not even letting the smaller boy a peek before he deems it acceptable. The clipped, hurried way he seems eager to run like a mouse under scrutiny is undoubtedly erotic, and Yugamu is content to follow after without complaint...not without offering the orderlies another grin and wave on the way out. He is eager himself, merely in a different way, and he makes sure the door clicks shut firmly behind him as he steps in after Makoto.
Ah, a real infirmary. Nondescript, nothing of the surgeon's variety, but he breathes in that clean smell of antiseptic and finds himself relaxing a tad. Figures they'd clean everything after use...although he curious, if they set aside certain rooms for this or if they merely cycle out which is used professionally and unprofessionally. Things to wonder about for later, since he turns to find that box being foisted off on himself instead. ]
For me, Makoto-kun? [ A grin, with teeth. ] You shouldn't have.
[ Oh, but he should. All the good things, fine white bandages and gleaming sterilized needles, painkillers and medical-grade stitches. He feels as excited as he does whenever Takumi hands him a fresh box of medical supplies from the Revive-O-Matic, face tinging with that horridly familiar flush as his eyes gleam. ]
You really are a man after my own heart...! I could tell you through which ribs, but I'm sure you're familiar with that by now, aren't you? [ The scalpel taps against Makoto's chest, over the sternum. ] I'm certain I can slip a few things out, even if they don't want us to. But the fact you thought of that is making my heart race...
[ Too much, perhaps. Yugamu is already getting to work, as it were, slipping things out of the box to the tray beside the examination table, picking up the bottle of disinfectant just for good measure. He is a professional, at his core, even when it comes to less than medically acceptable things. ]
Tell me, Makoto-kun...have you ever watched someone do this before? [ The needles are fine, packaged as they are, but he works on the scalpel and tray itself, forceps, just in case. Slowly, but perhaps painfully so. ] Or are you a little more messy? I don't mind either...but the appeal of a clean cut has always appealed to me more. That's why I've always been fond of dissections. All neatly cut open, sectioned properly— like an art piece ready to be disassembled. [ A tap as he sets the blade down, turning with a smile. ] I suppose if you haven't, I'll just have to show you the appeal.
[ Ah, but first things first. A hand raises to the corner of his haori hanging over his shoulders, poised to pull, before he pauses and drops it with a hum. Actually... ]
...You're the one who did win me, so I suppose I'm at your mercy, aren't I? [ He lets a finger drag to the dip of his kimono, tugging at it carefully. If his nail digs into the skin just a bit, he hardly notices. ] I'm not averse to a good strip tease...but if you'd like to do it yourself, I'm all yours.
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As tempting as that sounds, ( and it really does sound rather tempting… makoto hates being the subject of any sort of humiliation, but dishing it out instead? hm, ) I think there’s more to be gained by avoiding any further delays.
( now, everything that he knows about yugamu has already informed him to expect that the other young man will be scrutinizing (or should I say “dissecting” instead?) every aspect of the exchange that follows. knowing this only makes it that much more mortifying. here he is, trapped between Scylla (the attendants) and Charybdis (yugamu), or at least as far as his petrifying embarrassment is concerned. can he be blamed that all he wants to do is scurry away at the earliest possible social convenience? as he retreats toward the indicated room, it’s easy enough to see how his anxiety had drenched down the back of his neck, painting both it and the tips of his ears in a flush of red hot enough to burn. there’s no way he can address the interaction at the front desk in a way that wouldn’t just make it all worse, so he brusquely charges past it, offering the gift box to yugamu to preempt whatever he might be tempted to say about it. it’s his educated guess that the contents would be more than enough to distract him from such a thing.
and it seems… that guess is entirely on-target. the relief is immediate and palpable. tension eases out of his shoulders, and it’s now much easier to drag his gaze up from where it had previously sunken like a leaden weight down towards the tiled floor. he’s still red as his eyes track downward to follow the glint of the blade as it taps lightly against his chest, but this time much more pleasantly so. he shrugs with a small, wry smile. ) I figured that it was too good of an opportunity for you to pass up.
( the scalpel was, after all, far better attuned to yugamu’s own preferences and prerogatives. it seems he’s already picked up on that they might differ in that, with the way he continues. makoto tags along gravitationally, watching the quick, assured motions as the other teenager makes quick work of organizing the supplies. )
Oh. I—I, um… ( a brief pause. ) Not in person. I’ve seen videos…
( the caginess gives the impression of what the purpose of that had been. the over-the-top, fictionalized gore of slasher movies and other fiction had never “worked” to satisfy his more taboo desires. medical gore had been the closest thing he could find, and even then, it hadn’t quite felt like enough either. he’d always felt too frightened or guilty to look up anything really dark and fucked up, which is probably for the best—if either of his parents had found evidence of that, they might have killed him for real.
yugamu would know by now that, were they not in private, makoto would staunchly refuse any of these lines of questioning. now, though… he’s goaded across the threshold into answering, but he is clearly unaccustomed and a little awkward in doing so. ) I, ah, used a knife… ( he’s not particularly good at lying (not yet, anyway), so it’s obvious when he’s not giving the whole truth—especially when he grapples between his gut instinct to hide the worst of his truths at all cost and the fledgling, ecstatic hope that he actually didn’t have to here. has yugamu given him any reason in any of their interactions to think that he’d judge him for any of the kinks that he had, even the most taboo ones? when he continues, his eyes are downcast again, his voice small. ) …And my teeth.
( two very different approaches, indeed. for makoto, the unrestrained “mess” has always been part of the appeal.
not that he’s not interested in broadening his horizons, though. he braves looking back up to the other young man. ) It just always seemed a little—impersonal, like that. Too… clinical and detached. But, um—I’m more than happy for you to change my mind…!
( when yugamu’s hand lifts to his haori, makoto is already resigned to watch—the thought to undress him himself doesn’t occur until the other teenager poses the option. the demon blinks owlishly, thinking it over, caught between the tantalizing prospect of him stripping for him and the similarly tantalizing (but in a different way) prospect of doing it himself.
in the Golden Peacock, makoto has made intentional, purposeful strides in becoming more active in intimacy—reclaiming the agency that he’d seen as lost or otherwise buried while working for datenshou in hell had been important to him, and it still is. oftentimes, he pushes himself to this end even when he can’t exactly do quite as well as he mentally pictures himself to be able to. this begins to play out once more as resolution settles over his expression; his eyes lid half-closed as he steps forward, this time being the one to cut into yugamu’s personal space (he knows from experience that he wouldn’t mind). as he reaches up to unfasten the string at the front of his haori, he replies, ) Well, I’m not going to be able to cut into you, so I might as well be able to do this, right? ( there’s a hint of a sly smile and a cant to his head as his palms press against either side of yugamu’s chest, sweeping up and over his shoulders to cause the coat to fall away from them and onto the floor.
this part, he accomplishes rather effectively, if he says so himself. as for the next step, however… his eyes cast down, and he’s already finding himself slipping. it’s been years since he’s worn traditional clothing, and it’s not like he’d worn it all that often when he’d been alive, either—and certainly not to the extent that yugamu seems intent on wearing it. fuck. a flicker of panic sparks up inside the cavity of his chest, but he attempts to crush it, focusing. well, it’s not like he’s going to be able to get his kimono off of him before he gets the hakama off, but it’s not like makoto has ever worn hakama before himself. and it’s not like it’s tied in a way where he can just pull a string and it’s going to easily come undone! (that’d be rather unintuitive.) makoto makes progress on the knot that’s tied at his waist, but it’s not nearly so smooth or suave as he’d hoped to come off… his embarrassment dovetails cleanly with burgeoning irritation as his teeth set in frustration, and he mutters fiercely under his breath, ) Of course you have to wear—all of this traditional clothing…!
( unintentionally undermining him yet again…!! )
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There's a thrill is establishing yourself in the pecking order. In making someone think you're smaller, that they have all the power over you, right before the teeth sink into their jugular. Making an attempt to appear nonthreatening does come with the job, but he's come to enjoy it....especially when it comes to people doing the same. The two of them, for instance, stand on one platform on opposing ends that seems to teeter back and forth. Almost a tug of war. Yugamu finds he likes the cut of Makoto's teeth, but he'd also love to pull them out, one by one.
Thoughts that are dangerous for one to have with his hands on a set of sharp surgical implements. Hmmm. ]
And you thought right! If you keep spoiling me like this, I might find it hard to contain myself....
[ Some people like chocolates and flowers, but Makoto shoving a box full of hemostatics, disinfectant, and surgical steel into Yugamu's arms is tantamount to a trail of roses level of seduction. Were he not winding himself up for the main course, he'd likely feel that bloodthirsty twitch in his fingers far more than he already is. The image of lovingly sinking that scalpel into those stitches curved around Makoto's throat shoots violently to mind, and it certainly shoots blood somewhere else violently in the same vein. No pun intended.
Despite the fantasizing, however, Yugamu is listening. Despite how he might think and act, there's a genuine interest in how the other boy has managed to sate or chase his desires thus far, the sorts of things he's done to admire the more taboo tastes he tries to hide from others less inclined to accept it. Yugamu doesn't hide the way his grin curls further at the admittance, because yes, it does tell him enough. ]
Videos are always good, although the commentary might kill it for me. I've always liked the textbooks with all their beautifully detailed diagrams, myself... [ With the way he promptly giggles, it's obvious what he was using those for. ] Not that pictures can hold a candle to the real thing. Even pictures aren't as good as being able to witness all those twitching organs with your eyes.
[ Makoto keeps going, and perhaps at this point, anyone who would dare to get this far would turn back. Some people have limits, after all; even people into hardcore fetishes have something that make their stomachs turn. But Yugamu's is lined with steel and his wires are crossed wrong, so the murmurs of knives that slink into teeth merely have his eyes widening in a sort of thrilled, manic fervor that one would mistake for being directed at something far more tame. ]
Do you like using your teeth? You did mention wanting to fix your bite, after all...[ Despite Yugamu's interest in the clinical, the medical, the disinfectant and forceps, this is a territory he doesn't mind treading. ] We were given them for a reason, so why shouldn't we use them? That sensation of sinking them into skin really is something like no other....you have some good taste, man.
[ And how could he ever judge, when his own are so sharp? Nobody said he only liked it when the taste of blood on his tongue was his own. ]
That's the problem; they go at it too detached. Cutting into someone has to be a labor of love— [ Emphasis on love. ] Cherishing every last little piece, cutting it out just so...wrapping your hands around everything that makes them real. You just need to watch someone go in with all the affection they can offer.
[ Which is him. Certainly, he likes to be the one wearing the gloves and the mask, hovering over and making incisions in a body that isn't his, but he doesn't mind this, either. Not when he can guide someone how to touch him just right, which parts of him to squeeze and stroke with the hunger he knows is brewing beneath the skin.
But it's hard to do that clothed. So, here they are.
Oh, he's glad Makoto took his offer. Whilst Yugamu doesn't mind stripping slow for someone to enjoy, who is he to deny someone a chance to do it for him? Seeing him without clothes tends to be an affair that usually ends in screams and death threats ( not that he particularly minds ), so someone with an eagerness to drag him to that state is a breath of fresh air. He meets that sly smile with one of his own, Yugamu content to merely lean back on the curve of his heels to let the other boy get to work.
Or attempt to, anyway; his haori falls to the floor in a smooth pile of woven organs, but it's impossible to miss that flash in the other boy's eyes. A nicer person would have felt guilt, but unfortunately, it merely makes the curve of his smile wider. The power scale here does tend to tip, and Yugamu is more than happy to watch Makoto struggle with such adorable, earnest irritation. And it's only the waistboard knot, too; there's another to go! He is fully aware his style of dress is a bit outdated, and perhaps that's why he even offered in the first place; to watch him suffer, just a little. Maybe more than a little. ]
What's the matter, Makoto-kun? [ Yugamu's voice is low, with an almost amused hum. He's peering from beneath the shadow of dyed bangs, something humorous and sharp glinting. ] The best presents are the hardest to unwrap. But if you're having trouble—
[ A hand with it's sharp, sharp nails settles on those hand, and he leans in just a bit, slipping one finger teasingly through one of the tight strings that make up the knots. ]
Should I help you?
[ He could, after all, do this in arguably a minute. But this is really just to light the fire; he's certain someone won't like the implication he can't do it himself. ]
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(though, in this case, that “opening up” will inevitably be literal in addition to figurative.)
listening to yugamu’s reply, he can’t help but remember the conversation he’d had with aak; when they’d been playing truth or dare with one another, sure, the Feline had kind of forced it out of him that his treasured, disembodied spleen had featured heavily in one of the more recent times he’d jacked off, he similarly learned that one of the more embarrassing things that aak had masturbated to had been medical textbooks like the ones yugamu describes. makoto can understand it, though, yes, the inert illustrations had always felt titillating but not quite enough for him. he not only wanted to see the twitch and pulse of life through the requisite parts of the human body, he wanted to feel them—he wanted to sink his fingers into them before sinking his teeth into them, ripping what was so essentially someone else from them so he could take and consume it as his own. it was an act that was, at its core, violent, consumptive, and possessive, but there’s a shard of something reverent to it as well. to makoto, there was simply no better way to show someone how much he wanted them—how much he cares for them. but that’s something that’s still hard for him to put into words; there’s still a part of him that’s so ashamed of it that he won’t allow himself to acknowledge it as a personal truth.
he nods dumbly, and, after a moment, he nods again—though something embedded in what yugamu says has him replying in a sharp retort, ) I don’t need to fix anything. I— ( he realizes only after the brief irritation fades that it was probably unwarranted. it just abrased against his pride, to suffer the insinuation that his teeth weren’t good enough and needed someone else to fix them. considering what he was working with, he’d done pretty impressively just on horniness and willpower alone…! ) It could just stand to be, easier, is all.
( they have very different views on this. yes, makoto admit that ripping someone open and tearing into their innards like some sort of ravening beast was, in his mind, an act of desire of the highest order, love is a concept he has a harder time speaking about so simply. the only love he’d ever felt had been something that betrayal, pain, fear, and anger had followed hot on the heels of. in a way, it had poisoned the well; it had made him realize that such a feeling was a weakness waiting to be exploited. he can understand the attention and the reverence that yugamu talks about, though, even if makoto would probably couch them in slightly different concepts. )
…Okay.
( really, it makes him a little guilty that he’d insisted on yugamu being the subject of all of this first, but… there’d be more time for yugamu to show him the other side of this sort of exchange later, right?
the guilt disappears as rapidly as morning dew beneath the harsh glare of the morning sun, especially when makoto’s irritation and burgeoning embarrassment is exacerbated by a yugamu who is… enjoying this a little too much. he might similarly enjoy too much the venomous glare that the demon turns on him at the tone of his voice; he hates to be teased, the wound of having felt like little more than an amusement while living in Hell a raw and painful one. he goes still for a moment, jaw clenching; the metallic discs of his irises are paper-thin partitions which one can basically see the ideation of reaching for his knife as the quickest and bloodiest way to shut yugamu up playing out behind their almost luminescent surfaces.
with the other young man’s hands settling over his own and the offer hanging in the air between them, makoto finds himself caught between his characteristic pride and his characteristic understanding of his own limitations—and not to mention his own shortcomings. yugamu is right: he hates the idea that he can’t do it himself, and he knows that he could… but could he do so with the speed and skill that he’d like to? would being ruled by his pride and insisting just open him up to more mocking? it’s hard to decide which poison is more palatable to drink.
ultimately, he concedes; something that he likely wouldn’t have done with a demon or anyone else that he knew for a fact would hold it against him as some sort of failure or defeat.
he speaks tersely, through thin, wan lips, ) How about you just show me what to do before I decide it’s faster and easier to just cut all of this off of you?
( considering yugamu is a Two, it’s more of a financial threat than anything else. )