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These days, Setsuno can’t complain about his life. He knows he’s got it good: there’s a roof over his head and there’s always warm food in his belly, clothes on his back, company, and truly as much wine as he could ever wish for. No matter how he looks at it, life’s changed for the better. He’s come a long way from drinking his sorrows away in seedy bars and waking up with throbbing headaches slumped next to dumpsters in alleyways. And he knows there’s only one man to thank for his luck.
Heartbreak is an odd thing. For weeks—for months, actually—Setsuno dreamt about his girl’s softly rounded face and her sweet lips dripping venom onto his eyes. He dreamt about her long, blonde hair turning into a noose. The dreams got worse and more vivid, fueled by alcohol and drugs until the lines were blurred, until rage took over him. But his rage was never aimed at her. It should have been, he thought, since after all she was the one who broke his heart and stomped on it. She was the one who broke his trust and disposed of him as if he were a candy wrapper, once she’d taken everything she wanted. Setsuno should have hated her. Yet all that rage was turned inwards.
He seemed to be lost inside a dark maze, and then found light again.
Chisaki—Overhaul, he still has to correct himself—came shining into the maze, and he was brighter than every midday sun Setsuno had ever seen. Thanks to him he had found a family, and the invaluable gift of a purpose.
He would do anything for his boss.
Happily.
Eagerly.
When he sees Overhaul and his beautiful white shadow stepping into the living room, quietly, Setsuno feels his heart flip and his stomach tied into knots with anticipation. It's difficult to describe, especially for someone as terrible with words as him, but there's something peculiar about the way Overhaul and Chronostasis conduct themselves on days like this one. There’s something almost ethereal about Kurono, and something irresistibly brutal about their young boss.
“Toya,” Overhaul calls his name quietly, in a raspy voice as he slips his fingertips under the fabric of his white glove. The way he speaks his name makes Setsuno want to crawl to him, like a dog. “Meet me in my room in an hour.”
“Yes, boss.”
“Don’t bring your mask. You won’t be needing it."
“Yes, boss.”
Overhaul grins behind his mask. There’s that unmistakable glint in his golden eyes, and those crinkles at the corners that betray him. There’s a promise in his tone, and a demand in the quirk of his eyebrow. It’s why Setsuno wants to be obedient. He wants to be good.
Without saying another word, Overhaul turns on his heel and walks away. Behind him, Kurono shoots Setsuno a playful little smirk, something quick and flirtatious. It’s breathtaking. He’s never seen features as delicate and beautiful on a man, and often, Setsuno feels lucky that he gets the most minuscule bit of attention from him, let alone everything else.
Of course he can’t complain about his life.
Overhaul is sitting on an ornate, blood-red armchair by the time Setsuno gets there. Kurono and Nemoto are at his side, and by the time the three men turn to look at him, Setsuno feels more naked and exposed than he would if he actually had no clothes on. Nemoto looks at him with a wary kind of amusement, and Kurono’s grin is as playful as usual. But it’s Overhaul, it’s the young boss’s eyes that pin Setsuno to where he stands. They’re golden, and narrowed, almost lazy, and there’s a hunger in them that Setsuno cannot get used to seeing. No matter how many times he’s summoned into this room for the little ritual, it always feels like it’s the first time Overhaul’s eyes meet his.
Setsuno wants to drop to his knees on the spot, but he knows it’s not time for that. Not yet.
“Glad you could make it,” Overhaul says, with a deep voice and a rasp that make Setsuno feel like he’s being tied up with velvet ropes. Overhaul is always polite, always proper, always knows the right words to say to make his subordinates, his inner circle, believe that his orders were a suggestion.
“Come join us.”
Setsuno bows his head and his palms feel sweaty, his skin tingles and heat builds up inside him in anticipation. It’s almost giddiness, running wildly through his veins. And he knows what Overhaul means, he knows what Overhaul wants, so by the time Setsuno has disposed of his shirt and trousers and has stepped closer to the bed, there’s no point in trying to conceal his hardening erection. Sometimes, Setsuno likes to think that the way Overhaul’s eyebrow quirks while his gaze runs up and down his body is heartfelt appreciation. Today is one of those times.
Setsuno starts to walk towards the armchair, but Overhaul stops him with a simple gesture and a shake of his head and a voice like a lover’s vows.
“No, no, Toya. Crawl.”
Setsuno would never dream of saying ‘No,’ but the way Overhaul speaks his given name makes him all the more eager. And so he crawls to him like a dog. Wide-eyed, with his heart racing right up until the moment his fingertips graze Overhaul’s feet. And then he waits. Setsuno’s actions are rehearsed, nearly a reflex at this point: once he’s close enough to his boss, he sits back on the heels of his feet and waits.
“Good boy,” Overhaul says, and points at the floor as he looks at the men on either side of him.
They both do the same.
But it’s Setsuno who gets the praise, he reminds himself, feeling his chest swell with pride. Kurono and Nemoto do as they’re told of course, and Overhaul hums, but it was him who made their boss smirk behind his mask. He could tell.
Kurono is bolder of course, he touches Overhaul with far more confidence in his pinky than Setsuno could hold in his entire body. Kurono’s hands slide down Overhaul’s bare torso and past the waistband of his lounge pants to cup the bulge of his cock. He looks down at Setsuno as he strokes it, and there’s a smirk on his pretty face, like he was reveling in a decadent dinner in front of a starving man. That’s certainly how it feels. On the other side, Nemoto is ready and on his knees, stroking Overhaul’s inner thigh slowly until his hand meets Kurono’s. They stroke him, massage his cock in near perfect synchrony and pull a single sigh out of the boss, and smirk at each other, and ignore the needy sound building up inside Setsuno’s throat when they begin to kiss. Their kiss deepens, they make soft little moans into each other’s mouths and just as they do they pull Overhaul’s pants down enough for his cock to bounce against his lower stomach.
Setsuno whines at the sight, and the three men ignore him. Setsino’s mouth waters when Kurono’s fingers wrap almost daintily around the thick base and Nemoto’s thumb pushes against the underside of the cockhead, and the three men ignore him still. Setsuno cracks his knuckles in sheer impatience when Overhaul lifts his ass for the men to remove his pants completely, and he aches to touch his own cock. He aches for Overhaul’s gaze on him. Aches for the smallest hint of attention. But the boss is busy biting Kurono’s lower lip and tugging at Nemoto’s hair. And soon, both of Overhaul’s most trusted men are all too busy shifting and kneeling on the floor to settle between his legs, and Setsuno is close to growling in frustration.
Kurono looks at him over his shoulder and smirks the second he sticks his tongue out to lick along the shaft of Overhaul’s cock. He knows Setsuno’s eyes are wide on him, and he makes sure to make a little appreciative sound like he was tasting a delicacy. Still dining on luxury while Setsuno’s stomach growls with a painful hunger. Nemoto isn’t quite as brazen in his enjoyment of Setsuno’s teasing, but he’s no better when it comes down to it: he licks around the head, wraps his lips around it, and even chuckles when his tongue meets Kurono’s at some point. They kiss around the shaft, lick it, obscenely rub their tongues together over the hard flesh and all Setsuno can do is sit still and watch, and ache, and even wonder if he’s being punished for something he’s unaware of. It’s a delectable punishment, he knows it’s a privilege to even witness this, to even hear the quiet hums coming from Overhaul’s throat, but it makes his body ache all the same.
Setsuno has half the mind to apologize, more of it to beg; he wants to promise he’ll be good, he’ll be so good if only Overhaul will allow him to get a taste of the pre-cum that’s dripping down the length of his cock mixed with saliva. Just a touch would be enough, he thinks, he’d settle for feeling him hot and hard under his fingers for just one stroke. He’d settle for being allowed to approach the boss. He’d settle for a glance, but Overhaul’s head is resting against the back of the chair and his eyes are closed, and he looks beautiful and silent, unreachable, untouchable, and Setsuno can’t even get that much.
Another little whine escapes him. His cock is almost achingly hard.
“Mm,” he hears Overhaul before he dares to look up at his face, and when he does, the boss’s golden eyes are looking straight at him with those familiar crinkles at the corners. “You don’t sound like you’re enjoying yourself, Toya.”
The words catch in Setsuno’s throat, and color rises to his ears, and it almost takes him a full minute to process what Overhaul has said over the filthy, wet sounds of his other men sucking and licking and pleasuring him.
“N-no, I am, I—I am,” he stammers, though it’s only half true and he knows how deeply his boss despises lies.
“Maybe you’d like something more?” Overhaul asks him, with a deep, breathy voice that sends a rush of blood straight to his core.
“N-no, I—I mean, Overhaul, if it’s what you would like—”
Overhaul chuckles. He beckons Setsuno over with a simple motion of his finger, and Setsuno closes the distance by crawling. Setsuno’s hand nearly shakes when he reaches up to grab his boss’s knee and find something to ground him, and he’s expecting a tut and a reprimand and further denial, but Overhaul allows his touch. Setsuno swears that he can hear a little hum of approval, a quiet kind of permission, and so he takes his chances by sliding his fingers up Overhaul’s muscular thigh, and sticking his tongue out like a famished dog.
“I suppose you deserve a treat,” Overhaul says, and gives Nemoto’s hair a soft tug, a silent order.
Nemoto smirks down at Setsuno and gives him room, and then so does Kurono. Setsuno’s “Thank you” is pathetically quiet and eager, and he closes his eyes the second his tongue touches the base of Overhaul’s cock. He licks a strip up, moaning at the feel of every wet inch, tracing the outline of a vein along the underside. The men around him chuckle, and Setsuno isn’t sure whose hand it is that gently strokes a handful of hair out of his forehead.
“Have at it,” Overhaul encourages him, and Setsuno doesn’t hesitate. He sucks the tip into his mouth and feels his heart pounding nearly out of his sternum. His hands grip Overhaul’s thighs, sink into the lean muscle and smooth skin. Overhaul tastes like salt and soap, and Setsuno can’t even pretend to hide how much he loves it.
Overhaul’s laugh is brief, but it feels dangerous, in the way that makes Setsuno’s stomach flip and his cock throb, wet at the tip as it is. The way he runs his fingers through Setsuno’s hair is different from the other’s: it’s rougher, he doesn’t do it to clear his sight or uncover his face. The touch of his white glove is to pull him away with a string of spit and pre-cum joining his lips and Overhaul’s cock, it’s to look down at him with sweat on his brow and a concealed smirk.
“Greedy.”
Setsuno preens at Overhaul’s single word. He can sense approval in the mild condescension and that’s enough for him to get lost in it for a moment, so he’s only vaguely aware of the sounds around him. Some mumbles, rustling of fabric, maybe Kurono whispering something. Setsuno doesn’t know. He’s busy massaging every inch of his young boss’s cock with his tongue and lips, humming, loving the spit dripping down the corners of his stretched mouth. Soon, though he doesn’t know how soon, Overhaul roughly pulls him away from his crotch, there’s a wet pop and a gasp, and Setsuno chases after him right up until Overhaul’s large hand wraps around his jaw. Setsuno must look wrecked, flushed and sweaty, appearing half intoxicated with his narrowed eyes, with pre-cum and saliva dripping onto his chin. A mess. Strange that Overhaul should like it.
“Good boy, good, good boy,” Overhaul whispers, and he leans back on the armchair. “You deserve a little more, I think.”
Setsuno nods, so eagerly he almost feels his brain rolling around in his skull. Next thing he knows, Nemoto and Kurono are chuckling on either side of him, and their hands are on him, under his armpits, around his waist, and they lift him with little struggle and guide his legs to straddle Overhaul’s hips. A little sound escapes him when Overhaul touches his waist to help him keep his balance while Nemoto and Kurono maneuver behind him, manhandling him into a better position. It’s not until then that it dawns on him, and he whimpers.
Overhaul’s hands slip around his waist and squeeze his ass cheeks, and he pulls Setsuno forward, tilting his chin up and chuckling when he yelps. Setsuno’s bare chest is pressed flush against his boss’s, his back is arched, and he’s only kept upright because of the other men’s positioning of him.
“A-ah, sir, sir,” Setsuno pants, and he looks over his shoulder for a second. It’s Kurono who’s guiding Overhaul’s cock to tease Setsuno’s hole, and Nemoto who’s smirking, coating his hole and Overhaul’s shaft with lube.
“Hope you’re ready,” Overhaul says, taking a hold of Setsuno’s narrow waist. He doesn’t need to actually ask, because of course Setsuno spent the better part of an hour prepping himself in the comfort of his bedroom, thinking about precisely this, hoping he would be right.
“S-sir, yes—”
Setsuno’s babbling gets cut off by a sharp gasp when Kurono and Nemoto sit him fully on Overhaul’s cock. He scrambles to hold onto something, grabs at Nemoto’s forearm and the arm of the chair. Overhaul hums a delicious sound, sinking his gloved fingertips into the meager meat of his waist, and he immediately moves his hips to start fucking into him. Setsuno barely has time to catch his breath: he grunts and hiccups, and before he knows it, there’s three pairs of hands on his body. Grabbing at his hip bones, grazing the sensitive skin of his neck, squeezing his chest and rolling his nipples until he squirms. And all the while, as his eyes are squeezed shut, Overhaul thrusts into him, stretching him, filling him, harder the louder Setsuno’s moans get.
“He takes it so well,” Nemoto says, amused, and makes Setsuno lean against his chest for purchase, since Overhaul does not like to be touched. Not more than strictly necessary, and well, all Setsuno needs at the moment is his cock inside him.
Nemoto pushes Setsuno’s narrow hips down and chuckles almost fondly when he squirms. He kisses Setsuno’s ear, kneads his chest and finally wraps his fingers around an overly skinny neck.
“I can see why you like him,” Nemoto purrs in Setsuno’s ear, and as he does, Overhaul is hitting the sweet spot inside him almost relentlessly, over and over with no break for him to process every single wave of pleasure coursing through him. And Kurono—he always seems the worst tease of all.
Setsuno doesn’t have the capacity to keep his eyes open or to keep quiet, but he can see the gorgeous right hand man grinning up at him, and his pretty, dainty fingers stroking the base of his cock. It makes him twitch, and hiss, and when Overhaul thrusts deeper into him, harder, the way the boss likes it, Setsuno feels close to falling apart at the seams. He nearly loses control of his body, feels almost outside of himself and he’s only vaguely aware of the tears stinging in his eyes. He sputters nonsense, tangles his fingers in Kurono’s silver hair and thinks that he’s never known bliss like this.
Well, not since the last time, when Tengai teased and fucked him for what felt like hours for Overhaul’s amusement.
But the boss moving inside him is infinitely better. The boss thrusting into him, grabbing his hips to keep him still and use him for his own pleasure is infinitely better, and Setsuno is so hard he swears there’s no blood left anywhere else in his body. It only takes a slight jerk of Kurono’s wrist to make Setsuno tip over the edge. The sound that leaves him as he comes is almost foreign to him, a choke and a shaking mewl, because he spills and twitches onto his own chest and Overhaul’s stomach, but Overhaul doesn’t stop fucking him. When Setsuno feels boneless and pliant in his haze, Nemoto and Setsuno maneuver him like a little cocksleeve, and he swears this is the closest he could ever get to heaven.
Below him, Overhaul grunts and gives a few deeper thrusts to empty himself inside his subordinate. His sounds are muffled, and when Setsuno opens his eyes, he sees Kurono kissing the young boss, a hand on his chest. It’s a gorgeous sight, but it makes a little pang on jealousy course through Setsuno in the form of a shiver down his spine. He would love to swallow Overhaul’s moans straight from his gorgeous lips, but he likes to believe that maybe one day he’ll be worthy of it. As it is, Setsuno is perfectly content with the way Overhaul’s hand traces a line down his body, with his palm laying flat over his stomach and his golden eyes meeting him. Overhaul smirks, breathing hard, and he doesn’t ask Setsuno to remove himself from his lap or instruct Nemoto and Kurono to take him away.
“Good job, Toya,” Overhaul says, and Kurono smiles beside him. “I hope you cleared out the rest of your night.”
As he says this, he lifts a hand to cup the side of Setsuno’s neck, and his touch is almost gentle. It’s soft, and the fabric of his glove is smooth like silk, soothing. Setsuno shudders, and he nods.
“Y-yes, yes, Overhaul.”
Setsuno knows the little smile Overhaul gives him is for himself and himself alone. He knows it’s promise. And it makes a pleasant warmth spread all through his body, starting at his cheekbones, tinted red, all the way down his worn-out limbs.
Setsuno thinks life can’t get any better than this.