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Aotsuki’s body was as warm and solid as it always was as he gently lifted Takumi from his throne and deposited him on the bed. There was a time when he used to feel shame for the hindbrain comfort he took in being held by someone so strong, but it wasn’t like that, now. The grief, anger, terror, disgust, humiliation, guilt — he clung to them for so long and they didn’t change a thing. Once he accepted that nothing would ever change, accepted his role as a beautiful thing to be worshipped and not a doomed and hopeless leader, living this way got significantly easier.
All of this was for the best. Everyone told him it was for the best, so it was, right? They were happy. His choices had led him to this conclusion, a conclusion where everyone left alive was the happiest they’d ever been. They were winning the war. They were a perfect team as long as they were all united under him. So it was okay. All of this was okay.
Once the shock of their God trying to abandon them wore off, the Special Defense Unit unanimously decided that none of them wanted to see him suffer anymore. It pained them to see the way he cried and cried endlessly, squirreled away in a dark bedroom all by himself. They wanted their God to be just as happy to be worshipped as all of them were to worship him. Kawana built him a wheeled throne with straps and supports to keep him upright so he could spend the days with his friends like normal, and he wouldn’t have to be so lonely. Omokage equipped his body with three new holes to improve his quality of life: one on his chest so he wouldn’t have to bear the pain of injections and forcefeeding, and two on his belly so he wouldn’t have to bear the indignity of excretion. Ginzaki would diligently open his mouth and hold morsels of food against his tongue during mealtimes so he could still taste the meal they were sharing, even if he couldn’t eat it. And Aotsuki…
Well, Aotsuki did just about everything for him. At the beginning and end of each day, Aotsuki was the one to wash him, dress him, drug him, and get him in and out of bed. For all his reverence, he was no less strict and methodical. Takumi was thankful for it. The routine was the same each time, consistent bookends that he could rely on for comfort no matter what chaos went on in the daytime.
Tonight was no different. Aotsuki parked his throne by the desk and returned to Takumi’s side, sitting in the chair beside his bed. It started the way it always did: with Aotsuki stroking his hair, hands uncovered now that they were alone together, and brushing his bangs away from his eyes. The predictability almost made Takumi feel like he had some control over the situation. If he wanted it to stay the same and it invariably stayed the same, then it was basically like he had chosen this for himself, right? He wondered if that was the point of it. He had no way of asking.
Aotsuki pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, then his brow, and then Takumi obediently closed his eyes so he could do the same against his eyelids. When he opened them again, Aotsuki was smiling down at him like he had personally hung the stars in the sky.
“So beautiful,” Aotsuki sighed, carding his fingers through his hair. “But I won’t prattle on for too long tonight. I know you must be exhausted from watching over our defensive battle today.”
Aotsuki was right. He hated the hours he spent alone in the War Room, watching his friends fight without him. Battles came infrequently enough that he still hadn’t had the time to squash the feelings that bubbled up with them. It was bad enough that he couldn’t stand with them on the front lines and protect them, but even worse was having to sit there alone. Back when this started, he felt suffocated by the lack of privacy — now, every moment spent without one of his friends by his side was just a moment where his mind wasn’t being distracted from its new goal of eating itself alive. He was always trembling by the time everyone came back to collect him.
Aotsuki left one last kiss on his cheek before setting to work on his yukata — it was the easiest thing to get him in and out of, so it was what he ended up wearing most days. Deft hands made quick work of the obi around his waist, then unwrapped him from the front. The sleeves used to be the most difficult part, but Aotsuki was so practiced now that it felt just as easy as the rest of their routine. Next came his boxers, which Aotsuki slid down his legs with great care, and Takumi was fully undressed. The towel laid down underneath him was plush and warm, likely straight from the dryer if the light scent of Aotsuki’s detergent was anything to go on. It made the slight chill of nudity a bit more bearable.
Takumi heard some rustling — papers sliding against each other, the quiet snap of latex. He couldn’t roll his eyes far enough to the side to get a clear view of what Aotsuki was doing, but he didn’t need to. The sounds of sterile packaging being unwrapped and fresh gloves slipping onto Aotsuki’s hands was very familiar, by now.
First came the syringes full of medicine through the tube in his chest. Omokage explained them all to him at one point, but he still didn’t really understand what they did. He knew one of them was the paralytic agent and another was to keep his muscles from atrophying, but the details of the other few were lost on him. Something about relaxing his heart, whatever that meant, and a handful of other things. Aotsuki cooed sweet praises down at him all the while about how he was doing well.
As if he could do anything else.
Next, Aotsuki moved further down to the two holes in his belly. Takumi was glad that he couldn’t see most of what was going on down there. While this was certainly much better than any of the alternatives, he was still bashful about it. He felt the pressure of a warm, damp cloth before the two pouches were removed and replaced with some kind of sticker. Another one went over the tube in his chest. Aotsuki’s hair tickled his sides as he bent down to give him one more kiss, just above his navel.
“Perfect,” he murmured, letting his lips linger against his skin. Takumi’s lashes fluttered. Even now, he wasn’t quite used to being the object of this much affection. “I love taking care of you like this. It’s the highest honor, knowing that I’m the one you trust with such intimate mundanities.”
Aotsuki’s role was fully self-appointed, but it wasn’t like Takumi could point that out. He wasn’t exactly wrong, anyway. Takumi wasn’t sure if it was just because it was what he was used to, but he couldn’t imagine trusting any of his other friends with a task like this. Most of them wouldn’t have been strong enough to maneuver him properly — and even the ones who could were likely to lose themselves to temptation. Aotsuki was the only one among them who had enough self-restraint for the job.
A few more moments of shuffling passed — most likely Aotsuki undressing — before Takumi felt strong arms looping themselves underneath him and hoisting him into the air again. Aotsuki’s bare chest was soothing against his skin. For a moment, he was glad that he couldn’t move because it meant that he didn’t need to fight against his instinct to nuzzle into the warmth.
“The bath should be the perfect temperature now,” Aotsuki said as he carried Takumi into the bathroom. It smelled like milk and roses, balmy from the steam in a way that subdued the slight shiver in his shoulders. Aotsuki must have noticed because he chuckled fondly as he closed the door behind him.
“Was it a little too chilly for you out there? I don’t feel cold at all… I suppose that’s just one more thing to cherish about you, my sensitive Takumi-kun.”
Aotsuki slowly lowered him into the tub before climbing in behind him, holding him against his chest to make sure he didn’t sink. The water was as perfect as Aotsuki had promised, just on the right side of almost-too-hot, silky white and dusted with flower petals. If his muscles weren’t already slack, he would have melted right into it. Aotsuki set to work washing his hair, leaving the conditioner to sit as he lathered up the washcloth.
Aotsuki always washed him from top to bottom, scrubbing hard enough to leave him feeling clean enough to fall asleep even after being thoroughly debauched. His hands felt especially good on his chest tonight, so broad and ardent in their ministrations. Takumi felt his breath coming a little heavier and closed his eyes, savoring the familiar feeling of Aotsuki’s skin against his cheek. He almost thought he could doze off into this comfort…
…until Aotsuki reached his inner thighs. Takumi felt them twitch under the contact, a hot tension beginning to grow in his belly. His mouth suddenly felt very dry.
It had been a while since the last reward session — a week, at least. A week of time for the part of him that was still a young man to grow restless, twisted up further by the impotent adrenaline of watching everyone fight. He closed his eyes, trying again to relax a body that he couldn’t control, and then he heard it: a whimper. His own whimper, fully involuntary, from somewhere deep in his chest.
Heat pooled in his cheeks. He had become so acclimated to being used— no, worshipped — that his body would respond to just about anything. It was embarrassing. Aotsuki’s hands trailed up further and he could feel it, felt himself getting hard, almost painfully so, all from a little innocent touching. He wanted to cry.
It didn’t take long for Aotsuki to catch on. His hands grazed over his length and a quiet sob rattled in Takumi’s lungs. Apparently, there was still some part of him left that could feel shame, and felt it very deeply.
“Oh, Takumi-kun,” Aotsuki murmured, setting the washcloth aside and caressing his hips. The feeling of his bare skin against such a sensitive spot sent shivers up his spine, made him whine again. “There’s no need to cry… It’s only natural that you’d be pent up after so long unattended to.”
Tears spilled over onto his cheeks, anyway. His breath hitched as Aotsuki wrapped a hand around his dick, working him over with the same patient ardor he’d shown him all night and chasing away all the confusing feelings brewing in his gut. The humiliation and guilt were no match for the heat of Aotsuki’s loving embrace.
“I told you already, didn’t I? I love taking care of you. Even the parts of you that echo your past as a human… I love everything your body does, Takumi-kun. This is no different.”
Aotsuki kissed the shell of his ear, slightly picking up the pace of his hand. Takumi began to pant in return, each exhale laced with a shaky moan or a quiet mewl that he was utterly helpless to suppress. He wished he could shove Aotsuki away and hide under his blankets. He wished he could rock his hips against Aotsuki’s hand properly. He wished he could stop thinking and lose himself to the pleasure like a good little doll.
“Thank you,” Aotsuki breathed against his ear. That, too, felt like another surge of heat straight to his core. “For letting me love you like this. My perfect Takumi-kun… my savior.”
For a reason that Takumi did not care to examine, that was what finally pushed him over the edge. His cock jerked in Aotsuki’s hand and a garbled, whiny moan pulled itself out of his chest, spilling into the milky water and trembling there in the aftershocks. Exhaustion washed over him like heavy rain. It was far from the most intense orgasm he’d ever had, but it had dislodged a thorn from somewhere inside of him that was keeping him on edge. Now, even as he lay half-weeping against Aotsuki’s bare skin, all he could think about was drifting off into sleep.
“There you are,” Aotsuki said, sounding almost awestruck. “Doesn’t that feel better?”
The only response he could manage was letting his eyes flutter closed.
Aotsuki finished with washing him up, scrubbing down his legs and rinsing out his hair, then held him there for a little while until the water started to cool. Takumi wouldn’t have complained even if he could have. His tears gradually slowed as he gave in, submitting to the comfort of being pampered. None of his friends would want him to be so upset, so it was okay. It was okay. Just when he was sure he was going to fall asleep, Aotsuki opened the drain and grabbed a towel to start drying his hair. (Blow drying his hair was more of a hassle than it was worth.)
Once he was no longer dripping, Aotsuki picked him up and carried him back to his bed, laying him out on the towel. Takumi could see the way he shivered slightly, all wet and naked, not daring to start tending to himself until Takumi was fully taken care of. He patted him dry from shoulders to toes, taking special care with every inch of his body. The stickers came off. The bags were replaced. Aotsuki bundled him up in a soft, blue bathrobe and kissed him on the cheek, finally excusing himself to go dry off.
Takumi stared at the familiar ceiling and thought of absolutely nothing until the lights switched off and Aotsuki returned. Aotsuki’s body was a warm, sturdy presence against his side. He wished he could nestle into the blankets Aotsuki had tucked them into, or maybe cling to the protective arm Aotsuki had thrown over his middle, but there was also a sort of simple comfort that came from not being able to make choices anymore. He could never mess anything up again.
“Goodnight, my precious Takumi-kun,” came Aotsuki’s sleepy voice from beside him. Takumi let his heavy eyelids fall shut. He didn’t have it in him to fight anymore, not even a battle as small as staying awake. It was better this way.
“I love you.”
It had to be.