Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/8358226.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      僕だけがいない街_|_ERASED
  Relationship:
      Fujinuma_Satoru/Yashiro_Gaku
  Character:
      Fujinuma_Satoru, Yashiro_Gaku
  Additional Tags:
      Pedophilia, Alternate_Universe_-_Canon_Divergence, Plot_What_Plot/Porn
      Without_Plot
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-10-24 Words: 3442
****** in vivo ******
by Sammee
Summary
     Satoru makes it out of the passenger seat of one car and finds
     himself in the back seat of another. He is alive, but Yashiro wants
     more than to kill him now.
It's so dark and so cold and no matter how hard he struggles, Satoru thinks
this might actually be the end of it. There would be no more Revivals, he'd
promised himself that when he'd come back here before. Kayo was safe, Hiromi
and Aya were alive, and Yashiro told him that he would leave this place in
exchange for his life. Perhaps, Satoru thinks, that's as good as he's going to
get.
He can't hold his breath any longer. He gasps, and ice water goes into his
lungs. He tries to cough it out, but that makes it worse. His body is colder
than ever now-- parts of him are starting to go numb and he can't breathe,
can't struggle, can't fight it for too much longer...
Click.
A cruel trick or grace of God. The seatbelt comes undone with Satoru's final
flimsy attempt. If he doesn't get out of the water, he will drown. He knows
that, but it's so hard to move, to think, to make his body to anything.
The window is open, he is free. (His body won't move, he is going to die.)
Satoru thinks of his mother. He thinks of the terrible feeling he had when he
saw her sprawled on the floor of his apartment, red blood spilling out. Dead.
He thinks that if he doesn't struggle, if he doesn't live, he'll be giving her
that same anguish. How can he repay all of her kindness with that?
Satoru pulls the belt over his head and kicks with all of his might, trying to
reach the open air. His face breaks the surface. Somehow the wind on his cheeks
is even more frigid than the snow against his hands.
He gags on the water in his lungs and his gut contracts, forcing it out of his
mouth. Once he's able to actually get air, Satoru tries to call for help, and
shouts with all his strength, “Help me! Someone! Please!” It comes out in
stuttered gasps. Satoru isn't strong enough to pull himself out of the water.
Like this, it's only a matter of time before he freezes to death.
I'm sorry, Mom, he thinks as the edges of his vision turn black. I tried. I
really did.
Just before it all fades away, he hears laughter. Delighted, crazed, strangely
familiar.
 
When Satoru returns to consciousness, he's somewhere dry, and the only thing
running through his head is that he's so glad he isn't dead. But why is he
thinking that? Why was he so scared of dying? There's something unbelievably
important in the back of his mind, something he needs to do, but it's hard to
concentrate. His body is too hot and too cold and it's so, so dark. Satoru's
eyelids twitch, and he realizes that the reason he can't see anything is
because his eyes are closed.
They open, and there's a figure in front of him. No, Satoru's on his back, so
it's over him. Big, warm hands strip off his wet shirt and press against his
chilled skin, making him shiver. Satoru blinks at the darkness, and the figure
fades into view.
“S... sensei?” Satoru whispers, as Yashiro's face becomes clear. “What... what
happened?” He leans into Yashiro's warmth despite himself, suppressing another
shiver. “It's s-so cold.” There's something tight in Satoru's chest when he
sees the way Yashiro smiles at him. It isn't like the kind, friendly teacher he
knows at all-- but in an instant, it disappears, replaced by the concerned
expression he first expected to see.
Don't be fooled,something says to him, but that doesn't make any sense. Nothing
makes sense right now. “Satoru, are you alright?” Yashiro is asking. “You fell
into the lake. We've got to get you warm.”
So that's why he's so cold. Satoru can tell now that they're in the rear of
Yashiro's car, hot air blowing from the vents as the engine rumbles under his
back. He nods slowly, then gasps in surprise when Yashiro dips into the
waistband of his pants. In one motion, he pulls off Satoru's pants and
underwear, leaving him completely bare and flushed with more than fever.
Yashiro reminds him that he'd gotten soaked down to the bone, and that meant
removing every layer of his clothing.
The justification, though logical, pales against Satoru's physical need for
warmth. Satoru doesn't even question Yashiro pulling off his own shirt and
crushing him to his chest. In fact, he can only sigh with relief as his
embarrassment is forgotten.
Satoru curls his arms around Yashiro's neck, dazedly murmuring, “You're warm,
Yashiro-sensei.”
Yashiro strokes his spine, heating him up all over, and chuckles. “Oh, Satoru,”
he says. His breath puffs against the shell of Satoru's ear. “Don't you
remember how you fell in?”
Satoru wonders what that's supposed to mean. Then, Yashiro's touch creeps
lower, over his ass. Satoru goes absolutely still, but the hands keep moving,
slipping between the cheeks, fingers pressing against his hole.
“Ya... Yashiro-sensei...?” Satoru squeaks. His heart is running a mile a
minute. He tries pushing away from Yashiro's chest, but his arms are too thin
and weak to do a thing. Yashiro holds him tighter, restrains him, and no matter
how much Satoru wiggles and kicks, the heavy weight against him doesn't budge.
Satoru's throat closes up. It's just like he's strapped into the passenger seat
all over, watching his teacher calmly lead him to his death.
And like that, it all floods back. How his mother had died, how Airi had nearly
ended up the same way. That Yashiro had killed Kayo, and Hiromi, and Aya, and
deceived all of them this whole time. What Satoru has to do is survive, get
away, and tell someone that Yashiro is the culprit. “You bastard. Let me go!”
Though his voice comes out thin, what's there is full of hatred and anger.
Yashiro grips Satoru's arms and firmly pushes him to the car seat, pulling
back. “Ahh, seems like you've remembered.” Yashiro's lips spread into a cruel
grin as he looks down at him. Satoru glares back, and tries not to think about
the air against his bare skin, that Yashiro can do whatever he wants to him.
None of the children Yashiro killed had been sexually assaulted, Satoru reasons
with himself. Yashiro just wants to make him feel vulnerable and powerless-
- and it's working. But what little reassurance that brings crumbles to pieces
once Yashiro's stare falls from his face, and pours over every contour of his
body.
Fear chills Satoru to the core, colder than the ice water that swallowed him
before. He tries to convince himself the tremor in his shoulders is due to its
lingering effects, and not the weight of Yashiro's leering. Satoru forces his
expression into something less revealing, just in time to meet Yashiro's gaze
once more.
“Your eyes are so lovely, Spice,” Yashiro tells him fondly. Satoru nearly
misses the strange nickname he's been given, too distracted by the misplaced
intimacy in his tone. “I should have known there was something different about
you back then, when you first came to talk to me about Kayo-chan.”
Yashiro lifts one hand to brush his chin. Satoru turns his head away from it,
trying to calm his thumping pulse. He and Yashiro had disappeared from the
hockey game together in a car just like the one that had wound up in the lake.
Someone would pass by the wreck eventually-- sooner rather than later, he
hopes-- and call the police. Satoru and Yashiro couldn't both be missing for
too long without it becoming suspicious. An insidious voice in the back of his
head reminds him that if Yashiro really did plan on leaving town, it might not
matter how long they're gone.
“I..." Satoru tries to think of something to say, and instead blurts out, "I
know you're n-not a pedophile, Yashiro.” His voice trembles as Yashiro forces
his face toward him, and brushes his bottom lip.
Yashiro clicks his tongue, like he's chiding him for being late yet again.
“There's a difference between being attracted to someone because they are a
child, and being attracted to them despite it.” The chill in Satoru's spine
intensifies, now that he can put a name to the odd quality in Yashiro's eyes.
Attraction.
“Don't touch me,” Satoru says. He curses the note of panic there, and tries
again, stronger, “Don't you dare touch me!”
Yashiro smiles. He dips lower, letting his lips brush against Satoru's ear. “Do
you really think that's going to stop me? You're smarter than that, Satoru.”
Satoru's worry quickly shifts to terror when Yashiro brings his fingers to his
mouth and licks them. It isn't a surprise where they're heading, but Satoru
still hopes he's somehow mistaken. The tip of one digit prods at his hole,
shattering any doubt. Satoru clenches as hard as he can. “Don't do this,
Yashiro-sensei."
Of course, this is the same man that very nearly killed him. The appeal to his
sympathy lands on deaf ears. “I suggest you relax,” he says, face unchanging.
“It'll make things more pleasant for you... and me.”
And with those words, Yashiro forces his finger into Satoru's hole, pushing in
to the second knuckle. Satoru can't help but whimper at the stinging invasion.
He tries to pull away from Yashiro's touch, and unexpected relief comes when
Yashiro lets him. Before Satoru can scramble away entirely, however, Yashiro's
hands are on him.
Yashiro takes a seat and pulls Satoru into his lap, restraining him with a firm
arm around the waist. The sudden movement makes Satoru's head spin, his vision
blurring around him for a moment, until he feels Yashiro return to his earlier
business. “Please, don't,” is all Satoru can think to say, one last time.
Yashiro sinks his finger inside, deeper this time, before drawing it out and
repeating the process.
Satoru doesn't want to make things easier for Yashiro in any circumstance, let
alone in violating him. Then, Yashiro forces in a second one and the pain is
great enough to make Satoru cry out. He knows that Yashiro doesn't care whether
or not he's relaxed if he's come this far, that Yashiro will take him even if
it means tearing him open. There's a sob in his throat as Satoru focuses on
easing his muscles, even though it makes his pride burn with the same ache of
his body.
“Good boy, Satoru,” Yashiro says over his shoulder, and somehow those words are
more disgusting than the physical aspect. “Didn't I tell you before, that it's
normal to be rewarded for your efforts?” Yashiro's touch slows, becoming more
gentle, as if he's feeling around for something. Satoru hates it, but he's
honestly relieved at being given some time to recover. At least, that's what he
thinks he's being given, until Yashiro twists his fingers to the side. All of a
sudden, it's like he's touching something deeper, hotter than he should be.
Satoru sucks in a breath, his back arching as confusion crashes over him. “Ahh,
see?” Yashiro does it again, prodding that spot over and over as he pushes back
and forth.
Satoru doesn't like how it makes him feel-- breathless and warm, his body being
manipulated so easily by Yashiro's fingers. The heat in his stomach comes
forward and gathers in his cock. Yashiro grins when he takes notice of Satoru's
erection, and pulls him closer until it's sandwiched right between their
stomachs. Something hard in Yashiro's pants bumps against Satoru's thighs at
the shift. He doesn't dwell on what it is.
Yashiro rocks back and forth, grinding Satoru's erection against his skin. It's
almost like Yashiro's rubbing his cock from both ends when he curls his fingers
like that. Involuntary pleasure shoots up Satoru's spine, ignoring his attempts
to reject it. It's utterly humiliating to be left panting by the same man who
had ruined his life and hurt so many innocent people-- humiliating, abhorrent,
awful. A third finger presses inside of Satoru's ass, carefully, and his hole
responds readily, widening to accommodate it, too. The lump in Yashiro's pants
twitches against his leg, and Satoru can hear his breathing rise, heavy and
labored. Excited to see that Satoru's body is accepting him, even if Satoru
himself isn't.
Yashiro moves the hand at Satoru's waist. Nothing's holding him in place
anymore, except for the way Yashiro is touching him, and his own grip,
clutching firmly at Yashiro's shoulders for support. Even if he did get away,
Satoru can see the snow blowing against the window. Like this, he'd either
easily be caught by Yashiro once more, or end up dead for real this time. No,
if Satoru wants to make it, to live, he has to withstand this.
What exactly 'this' would entail becomes obvious when Yashiro unzips his pants
and pulls his cock free. Satoru's eyes widen when he sees it. It probably isn't
that much larger than average, but to his small, eleven-year old body,
Yashiro's adult cock looks insurmountable. He's trembling before he notices,
shaking his head. “You can't... you can't put that thing inside me.” The only
thoughts that surface in Satoru's mind are of the worst crimes, assaults so
forceful and traumatic that the victim dies from their injuries. “You'll kill
me,” Satoru whispers.
That makes Yashiro laugh, genuinely amused by his fears. “I'm flattered you
think so, Satoru. But you'll be fine. The human body can be... surprisingly
resilient. You should know that much yourself.” He grasps Satoru's cock.
Pleasure hits, cutting through the thicket of Satoru's anxious emotions
shamefully easily.
Yashiro's hand is so big in comparison to his length, it manages to cover every
inch and stroke it at once. Satoru surrenders to the impulse to buck into it,
whining, the intensity too much for his inexperienced body to handle. The tip
of Yashiro's thumb rubs at the head of his cock and pulls down the foreskin
slightly, brushing against the uncovered skin. Satoru's vision goes white
before he can even think to resist the touch. His body jerks and he gasps,
shooting out a thick stream of semen.
Satoru's pulse is throbbing in his head as he catches his breath, dizzy from
his orgasm. Yashiro gathers each bit of his release and mixes it with his
saliva to form a rudimentary lubricant. He coats himself with it. Satoru hardly
has a moment to recover before Yashiro's fingers are pulling out of him, and
his big cock is poised to take their place.
“No,” Satoru begs. His hands find Yashiro's thighs, trying to hold himself
higher than his erection can reach. But Yashiro is stronger than him, and he's
decided that he's waited long enough. Instead of forcing Satoru down onto him,
he lifts him up and tosses him onto his back, then follows after him.
Yashiro grips his kicking legs easily and drags his ass right into his lap. The
tears in Satoru's eyes are already burning with the tip pressed against him.
They spill down his cheeks as Yashiro holds Satoru's hips still and pushes
forward. The head of his cock slips into Satoru's hole, bringing burning pain
with it. Satoru thinks he's being stretched to the very brink, and Yashiro just
keeps moving further. “If... if you do this,” Satoru sobs, “I'm gonna break...”
“You won't break,” Yashiro tells him, voice strangely firm. “You're a survivor,
Spice.” There was the nickname again, then, affectionately, possessively, “My
survivor.”
For a second, Satoru hopes that means Yashiro will be gentle with him, but
perhaps that's hoping too much. Yashiro's fingers dig into his flesh, and he
forces their bodies together, piercing Satoru on the full length of his cock.
Satoru's so shocked he can't do anything but weep and try to steady his
breathing. Thankfully, he doesn't think he felt anything tear, but Yashiro is
thick, so much bigger than his fingers, and every time he moves, Satoru thinks
something inside of him is along for the ride.
“God... You're so tight, Satoru,” Yashiro breathes, sinking himself impossibly
deeper into Satoru's gut. “To think I've been outsmarted by you this whole
time, when you're so small... and fragile. But that's over with now. Now,
you're mine.” While the majority of Yashiro's words fly over Satoru's dazed
head, those last two words are heard loud and clear.
“N-no,” he grinds out, painfully.
Yashiro smiles down at him. Satoru never thought he could ever hate his
teacher's smile, but everything he loved about the man is gone. Or maybe, it
had been missing from Yashiro since the very beginning. “Good, good. Didn't
want to think that you'd lost your spark already.”
Yashiro thrusts his hips, and Satoru sees stars as he stifles his voice. He
swears he can feel Yashiro's cock in his stomach, stirring up all of his
insides. Plunging in over and over, fucking him harder than Satoru ever thought
his young body would be able to withstand. He focuses on breathing, on taking
every bit of punishment Yashiro doles out without losing himself, and tries to
cling to anything else. That tiny spark of perverse pleasure in his ass isn't
enough against the gut-wrenching penetration.
“At least... g-go a little slower.” Satoru hates hearing himself plead for
mercy in his high-pitched, childish voice, especially with little chance of
success. Against his expectations, it works. The barrage of thrust slows, but
what it loses in speed, it gains in intensity. Satoru didn't think that Yashiro
could reach any deeper inside of him; he's proven wrong. Yashiro spreads
Satoru's legs further apart, raising his hips so high that Satoru feels like
he's in the middle of a somersault. This time, when Yashiro jerks his hips, his
balls slap against Satoru's ass, his cock truly buried to the base.
It knocks the wind out of him at first, but it's still better than the
alternative. At least this way, Satoru can think about something else, if only
briefly. Satoru shuts his eyes tight, and pictures the twirling nothingness
when he experienced Revival, the disorienting haze of being drawn into the
past, of recognizing deja vu. He tries to imagine that the uncomfortable
feeling in his stomach is something like that, and not Yashiro's cock jabbing
at his core.
Yashiro's breath quickens and one hand clumsily slips against Satoru's leg.
Satoru hopes that means it will be over soon. The last time he'd been so eager
for something to end was during the night of March 3rd. He opens his eyes and
finds Yashiro's face staring down at him, strangely delighted. “I... never
thought I would find something else... that could thrill me this much,” he
pants. “Then I heard your voice, Spice. I saw your head rise above the water. I
saw you live.” Yashiro's voice wavers and fades, and his grip crushes into
Satoru's waist, shoving him further onto his cock. Satoru bites his lips so
that he doesn't cry out.
A shudder travels through Yashiro's body, starting at his shoulders and
spreading to his fingers and chest, until Satoru can feel it reverberating in
his own gut. One, two, three half-thrusts that steal Satoru's breath away, and
Yashiro spills himself inside. Satoru wants that to be the end of it, but
Yashiro lingers, steadying his breathing as he relishes in the moment.
Finally, Yashiro speaks, words still colored with exertion, “You're really...
something very special.” An exhausted whimper spills from Satoru's mouth when
he pulls his softening cock out, freeing him at last. Satoru feels disgusting
all over, wet and sweaty and covered in semen, gaping and open in places that
should never have been breached.
Yashiro brushes his hair out of his face, and leans down to press a cruelly
gentle kiss to his forehead. “I'll take good care of you from now on, Spice.”
Yashiro tells him. “It's the best thing for us both, don't you think?”
Of course I don't, doesn't come out. Satoru's throat hurts, his body aches, and
the adrenaline high is quickly crashing down over him. He reaches for his
earlier optimism, his thoughts of escape and Yashiro being discovered, but
they're too far away for his tired hands to hold on to. Satoru's eyelids
flutter against the sudden surge of nausea and vertigo, and he thinks that this
might be it. His ending.
“Take me... somewhere...” he murmurs weakly, “far, far away, sensei.”
Away from this town, and the people Yashiro had already destroyed in his world.
Away from his loved ones and his friends, so that this time, they would be
safe.
It's the only thing Satoru can hope for now.
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