Tokyo Babylon Fan Fiction ❯ Tokyo Tower ❯ One-Shot

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

"I want you."

"NA..NANI?!?"

"I want you."

".........."

Cold wind at my face, his warmth at my back. The bright lights of
Tokyo laid out at our feet.

I know I shouldn't let him say things like that. I know I shouldn't
let it go any further. I know I shouldn't let my heart pound like
this, my skin tremble like this, when he looks at me that way. This is
wrong. This is wrong. I know I should make him stop.

Demo...

"Will I be your first, Subaru-kun?"

"EH?"

"Will I be your first?"

His arms around me. So warm. My heart pounds. My skin trembles. I've
never felt this way before.

"Will I be your first?" he murmurs gently, breath hot in my ear.

Words choke in my throat.

"H.. Hai," I whisper back. I've never felt this way before.

He smiles, happy. I can't see, but I can tell.

"I want to be your first, Subaru-kun," he whispers, smiling, forceful,
moving closer. "I want to be your only." His hands are hot. They spark
and burn against my body. They send out fire along my skin.

"I want to give you things you've never had before."

His hands are everywhere. I know I should object.

"I want to show you things you've never seen before."

I know I should... Demo...

"I want to do things to you that you've never felt before."

His hands are everywhere. I know I should object. But somehow...

I close my eyes tightly, feeling him touch me, his slow, hot caress
trailing fire on my flesh. My heart pounds. My skin trembles.

"I want you."

My skin trembles.

"Seishirou-san..."

Somehow... His hands are everywhere. Everywhere. I know I should
object. I know I should do something, anything, other than stand there
and relish his touch, his heat, the feel of his arms surrounding my
body. I shouldn't let him touch me like this.

But somehow...

"Seishirou-san..."

I can feel his arousal pressing hard against my back, and my own as
his hot hands caress me through thin black fabric. I shouldn't let him
touch me like this. I should run. I should hide. I can feel myself
blushing in embarrassment. Humiliation. Shame. I should do something.
Anything. Fight back. Object.

But I can't. And he lifts my arms, slowly, sensuously, to wrap them
around the neck above me, behind me, the man that's enveloping me. My
arms. His neck. And I know I should resist. But somehow...

He lifts my arms to wrap them around his neck, to embrace him back, to
allow him in. And I know I should resist. But I don't. I can't.
Somehow...

He kisses my neck, bites at it, tastes it, as he strokes me and rubs
himself into my back. He has me. He owns me. I know I should run. I
know I should object. I know I should fight. But I can't. I just
can't.

He opens my clothes, his hand down my pants, and I'm helpless to stop
him, helpless to keep those strong hands from my flesh. Helpless to
stop my desire, my heat, my arousal from growing and throbbing at his
touch.

My God, it's so wrong.

But it just feels so good.

I know I should stop him.

Cold wind whips my hair, cold steel holds me up, but his body is so
hot behind me it burns. I can see the lights of Tokyo below us, hear
the noise of the city as he forces me forward over the railing, and I
am helpless to resist.

I am helpless to resist.

He enters me quickly, rough hand at my hip, strong hand at my
shoulder, holding me still as he gives me his full length in one
violent shove.

I scream, and it echoes out over the skyline, singing of ecstasy.
Pleasure and pain.

How is it that something that hurts so much can feel so good?

He moves, every thrust tearing deeper and deeper, every thrust hurting
more, and I scream through my tears.

He laughs and thrusts harder.

I should make him stop. I should make him stop. But I can't. I just
can't. And I don't even want to. It just feels so good.

He uses me. I let him.

I want him to stop. I can't let him stop.

I never never never *ever* want him to stop.

Seishirou-san... please... don't stop...

I want to be his. I want him to take me. To hold me. To force me. To
hurt me. To use me. Make me his make me his make me his make me his.
More than anything, ANYTHING, I want to be his.

I shouldn't let him touch me like this. I just shouldn't.

Demo... nazeka...

His thrusts rip right through me, they sear through my being, tearing
into me, faster and faster and faster and harder and harder. He uses
me harshly. He makes me his own. And I want to be his.

I can see the lights of Tokyo below me, bright and distant through the
burning tears of pain and of pleasure, of sorrow and joy. My heart
pounds. My skin trembles. The bright lights of Tokyo.

There is nothing but him now. Around me. Inside me. I want him to
stop. I should beg him to stop. But I can't. I just can't. I beg him
for more. I want him so much.

He finishes, crying out, shooting inside me, and it fills me with
ecstasy, terror and bliss.

He finishes, dressing me, lifting me slowly, and I am ashamed. And
deliriously happy. And my whole body aches with regret and elation as
blood mixed with semen drips down my hot skin.

My heart pounds. My skin trembles.

I shouldn't let him touch me like this.

But, then, somehow...

He wipes my eyes. He dries my tears. He gazes deeply down at me,
through me to my soul. And I love him. I love him with all of my
heart.

He wipes my eyes. He dries my tears. He takes off his glasses, he
gazes deeply down at me, and all is forgiven.

And all is forgotten.