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Sharing your body with someone else's consciousness nestled in the back of your mind wasn't exactly an easy task.
Takumi didn't have a moment of respite without Eito breathing down his neck, watching and commenting on his every move. When he glimpsed himself in the mirror, it was Eito's appearance he saw staring back at him. Unnerving was a vast understatement. No, it was more like being a bug studied underneath a magnifying glass - and he's dead certain an insect is how Eito perceived him, anyway. Eito is observant. Eito likes to watch.
You and I are one.
What an awful prospect.
But, admittedly, it was better than the alternative. If Takumi hadn't conceded defeat so readily, hadn't prevented Eito from fully taking over his body... The idea of him being completely replaced by Eito makes him shudder. At least like this, he's still got control of himself. In the end, he still stayed as Takumi Sumino.
Takumi Sumino, with the worst internal narrator a guy could ever ask for.
Eito doesn't interfere as much with his body anymore, compared to how he did during the challenge. If nothing else, Eito's been true to his word. He lets Takumi return to his life at the Academy. Fighting alongside his friends. All the while, lingering in every little corner of his mind, jumping in with his own comments and remarks. Never letting him forget his presence. Relishing in the disgust and horror and anguish it brings Takumi. His blunt nails bite into his palm as he hears Eito's laughter ringing in his ears, echoing through his mind.
Now, I can enjoy that look of despair on your face every single day.
... He was true to those words, as well.
Eito plays his hand sparingly, pulling what little strings of control he still kept whenever he really wants to stress him out. Rooting his legs to the ground as he's walking through the corridor. Jerking his hand erratically while he's trying to write, making him draw a long line of pen across the page. Brushing a piece of hair out of his face, deceptively gentle. You'll never be rid of me. He'd never thought that brushing hair out of someone's eyes could work as a devastating psychological attack, but it's Eito. Somehow, he makes it work.
Even when Takumi can't hear his voice, the parasite seeps into every nook and cranny of his mind. Takumi has to wonder how much of his own consciousness is available for Eito to pick through, being in the same body and all. He's... somewhat convinced that Eito can't straight up read his mind - since he can't read Eito's. Which doesn't do much good for him, because Eito is so damn observant that he still manages to stay ahead of anything Takumi tries to do, mind reading be damned.
Takumi isn't sure if it's just because he's gotten real familiar with Eito, or if their co-inhabitation of his body has led to the borders between "Takumi" and "Eito" getting a little fuzzy around the edges - but sometimes, he can feel a bit of Eito's feelings bleeding across that barrier. Even when he doesn't speak, he can feel his amusement. That little coy, knowing sparkle in his eyes. He truly is relishing in this.
The air is suffocatingly warm in his room. The ceiling fan is spinning slowly overhead, but its feeble movements do nothing to quell the heat rolling in waves underneath his skin. He can feel his clothes sticking uncomfortably to his body.
"Good morning, my loathsome little creature." Eito's taunting voice is the first thing he hears as he blinks open his eyes, flat on his back and staring up at the ceiling. There's no escaping from it - it's coming from inside his head. He sucks in a sharp breath, screwing his eyes closed. "You sounded like you were having a lovely dream just then."
Eito's presence in his mind hasn't entirely overwritten his ability to have dreams. Sure, he can (and does) drag Takumi into a sort of shared-dream kind of place whenever he wants them to "exist" in two different bodies, for whatever whims he wants to subject him to. But he doesn't always do this. Sometimes, Takumi has his own dreams. And this dream in particular was... Well...
"You were making these awful noises!" A mocking sense of laughter tinges the edges of Eito's voice. "And you're drenched in sweat! If I didn't know any better, I'd have thought you were having a horrible nightmare."
Takumi pulls the covers firmly around himself. He takes in a deep breath. He releases it slowly. He tries not to think about that dream. He tries not to think about how achingly hard he is. He does all this, knowing that Eito is not about to let Takumi ignore him and drift back to sleep.
"Oh, Takumi... You don't need to hide from me." Somewhere behind his eyelids, he can see Eito peering at him through those long, gray lashes of his. "You and I are always going to be together, don't you know that by now? There's nothing you need to be shy about." His own right hand moves to gently pat his cheek, undoubtedly under Eito's control. "I'll even offer to help you out, since we're such good friends. You'd like that, right?"
And Eito waits.
The words hang heavy in the air, and Eito waits- expectantly. Takumi feels his gaze pierce straight through him, even though that's quite frankly impossible given their situation. But Eito waits. Waiting for Takumi to give him the green light and let Eito push him down like a butterfly pinned to a board.
It's infuriating. Because Eito doesn't need to read his mind. He's observant. He can read Takumi enragingly well. He knows what he wants, and what he's going to say- he's just waiting for him to say it. To hear him admit it.
"...Fine." It comes eventually, through gritted teeth. He feels Eito's mirth nonetheless. "Just... Just be quick. I need to head to the cafeteria and meet with the others."
"Ahaha! We'll see." Eito's- no, his- hand lets go of his face and slips underneath the covers. Eito's intentions to completely disregard any notion of "being quick" become very clear, very quickly, by how slowly he's moving. He takes his sweet time, ghosting his fingertips over Takumi's chest. Slowly trailing downwards, down to his abdomen. He drags the pad of one fingertip along his waist, just barely dipping underneath the waistband of his pants. A burning heat blooms low in his gut, a shiver he feels in every nerve of his body. Takumi tries to keep still, and succeeds (for the most part) at hiding his frustration.
Just when he comes to the conclusion that Eito's never going to get anything done, and that he really should just use his free hand and do it himself-
"-Ah!" Takumi sucks in a sharp breath, shaky on the exhale. Eito's finally slipped his hand into his boxers, wrapping his fingers firmly around his cock. It's weird, because- it's his own hand, but it feels different because he isn't controlling it at all. But... it does feel good, he has to admit. Eito seems to alternate between light strokes and teasing little brushes of his fingers, like he's just idly toying with him. It's definitely the residual effects of that dream he's just had, but he's far too riled up to be satisfied with just this. "Eito-" His complaints get choked off with a startled gasp. Unsurprisingly, Eito appears to enjoy waiting for him to try and talk, just to interrupt him. Eito swipes the pad of his thumb across his slit, the sensation making Takumi writhe a little. His fingers close back around his cock, the following strokes a little more slippery.
"Wow! I haven't even done anything yet, and you're already so wet down here." That's because of the wet dream, idiot, Takumi wants to say. But he's self-aware enough to know that anything he says isn't coming out in a coherent sentence, so he just shuts his damn mouth and doesn't say a thing.
His breath is coming in short, sharp pants. It's- it's only because he's already worked up, that Eito's able to draw these kinds of reactions out of him so easily. That's the only reason, he tells himself. He knows he's not being entirely truthful. Takumi tilts his head back a little, shifting his hips to grind into his hand. He can feel the rumble of Eito's laughter as his leisurely movements speed up, gripping and stroking him firmly. He can feel himself leaking, making a mess in his hand. Eito is, regrettably, a fast learner. He seems to just know where to put his hands, what pace Takumi likes, which spots to brush over to make him tremble. If it didn't feel so good, Takumi would be really mad about it.
Eito keeps going like that, and that twisting sensation in his gut starts to get more and more intense as he works him.
He's- close, really close. He can feel the heat thrumming underneath his skin, all over his body, a feverish feeling threatening to overwhelm him. It's... really good. He has to fight the noises threatening to bubble out of his throat. He can hear the rustling of the bedsheets as he squirms around, gasping and trembling and-
Eito pulls his hand away.
"-Huh? Hey, wait-" Takumi stammers out. "I was-" His hips stutter, thrusting up to try and chase the sensation.
"Uh-uh. None of that, Takumi." He can almost feel Eito's hands grab on his hips, holding him still. Pushing him down against the mattress, despite his twitchy, shaky attempts to move. He kind of wants to scream, but he doesn't want to give Eito any more satisfaction than he's already giving him. There's still a few scraps of his dignity that he'd like to hang onto. "I know you're an awfully impatient thing, but you can be good and wait."
Something red-hot gnaws deep in his stomach, some horrifying mixture of humiliation and arousal. He feels Eito's laughter more than he hears it, a sense of sadistic glee. God, Takumi thinks as he suppresses a shudder. I hate this guy so much.
He forces himself to take a deep breath in, relaxing his body. He lies there, waiting for Eito to continue. Which he only does when he's decided that Takumi had calmed down enough. Eito grabs onto the covers and shoves them off of his body, then reaches down to pull his boxers off. Takumi's gaze immediately snaps to the door, feeling a warm flush suddenly creep up his face.
"What's wrong? Worried someone is going to come into your room and see this?" He doesn't like the tone in Eito's voice, but frankly speaking, he never does. Eito doesn't bother to wait for a response before continuing. "Let's hope you remembered to lock your door last night." Takumi is pretty sure he did. He's been more diligent about it, ever since the Eito from his first 100 days managed to sneak in and hide underneath his bed during a very private conversation he was having. So he's certain he wouldn't forget to do something like that now.
"You're just saying that to make me freak out." Takumi gives Eito his most unamused expression, by virtue of no one else being in this room for his expression to be directed towards. Eito doesn't answer, in favour of moving his hand back to Takumi's dick. The squelching noise of Eito's ministrations makes him grit his teeth, averting his gaze towards the wall. As usual, Eito takes his time - gently ghosting his fingertips along the side. Trailing down a vein with barely-there touches. But he's so sensitive that he feels all of it amplified by a few magnitudes. He's starting to regret saying anything about wanting this to be quick, because of course Eito's only goal has become to torment him in any way he can. Watching closely to monitor and drink in his reactions. The close attention makes some feeling deep in his stomach squirm around, and the worst thing is that he hasn't entirely written it off as a bad thing.
Eito's being very intentional with how slow he's going, Takumi realizes with a bit of dread. He doesn't speed up like he did last time, no matter how long Takumi waits for it. Something close to agitation bristles within him. "Can you hurry it up?" He hisses, pushing up against the firm hold that Eito has on his hips.
"Aw, this isn't enough for you? Ugh... You're so ungrateful." Eito's exasperated sigh only further boils the blood in his veins, but he does tighten his grip, and the sudden pressure draws a whimper out of Takumi before he can stop it. He strokes him, hard and fast, and the sounds he can hear himself making are really embarrassing. Eito twists his wrist a certain way to draw a sharp moan from him. He'd be trying much harder to keep quiet, but the pleasure wracking through his frame was really starting to cloud his head. It's not his fault.
When it feels like he's able to think ever so slightly clearly again, Takumi reaches up with his free hand to press his palm over his mouth. He only gets to have that comfort for a few seconds, before he feels the sensation of something gripping onto his wrist. Eito pulls his hand away, firmly pinning his wrist against the mattress next to him. He feebly tries to pull it away, but Eito seems very intent on keeping his hand here.
"Haha, don't bother." Eito mumbles, the sound reverberating around his head. Something delighted sifts through his tone. "I want to hear you, Takumi. Every embarrassing, desperate little sound of yours." He feels the ghost of a kiss, pressed to the corner of his mouth. He's certain that Eito is messing with his senses again, but he swears he can feel his breath, warm against his skin. "Seeing your face contort like this is very nice, but that's not enough. I want to witness all of you."
Takumi winces, feeling a little pin-prick of pressure on the side of his neck. The press of Eito's canines against his skin, the sensation of wetness - his tongue? - lapping against his throat. He can imagine it, vividly: Eito crouched on top of him, pinning him down, his teeth brushing tantalizingly against his jugular. It makes a shudder roll throughout his body, shockwaves of pleasure rippling through him, and he feels Eito's mouth curl into a smile against his neck.
"And you like that, don't you?"
He's shocked at how fast his orgasm has crept up on him again - spiralling up his spine like a flash fire of sensations. He's- god, he feels kind of weird thinking about it, but his cock is dribbling pre-cum all over himself. Takumi rolls his hips into his hand, shakily, as Eito steadily guides him back to the edge. A soft keening sound fills his ears, and he realises with a cold sort of dread that it's coming from himself. But- shame be damned- he just wants to come- and he's so close that it snaps through his body and-
Eito pulls his hand away.
Takumi thrashes in his hold. "No, no- Eito!" It comes out as more of a sob than a shout. He is absolutely dead certain that he'd come straight away if Eito so much as brushes the pads of his fingertips along his cock, but of course the bastard doesn't do that, and Takumi might actually scream. He's so close, a breath away from tipping over the edge, but- but-
He feels the ghost sensation of Eito peppering kisses along the side of his neck. Deceptively sweet. "Is something wrong, Takumi?" Eito asks, innocently. But there's something heady in his voice that gives away his pleasure. "I'm helping you out, just like I said." He sees the glint in Eito's eyes, the blue of his iris sharp and piercing. He hears the hungry tone in his voice, like the cat cornering the canary. "You're a smart boy. You know what I want."
He does. He hates that fact, god does he hate it- but he does.
"Eito- I-" Takumi's voice has a tremor to it, the same tremble shaking through his body. He can't hold himself still. "... Just... Touch me again- Eito, let me come. Please."
Somewhere deep in his mind, Eito pins him with a sharp, satisfied look in his eyes. "Hm. Good." There's a strange sense of reverence in his tone.
By the time Eito finally touches him again, Takumi almost feels like crying. He closes his eyes, tries to focus on the feeling, hoping against hope that Eito is feeling a little merciful today and doesn't decide to just keep tormenting him like this. Otherwise, he really is just going to get up and figure it out himself, Eito be damned. It's not fair. It really isn't. Eito, out of all people, has no business making him feel this good. And yet, the feeling of his teeth grazing his neck sends electricity spiralling through his veins, and his strokes are slippery and firm and the pressure is so, so good-
It takes no time at all for Eito to drag him back to the edge, the pleasure in his gut stuttering and spiking. A particularly firm squeeze makes him gasp and stutter on something he doesn't want to call a sob. A sort of panic seizes him, anticipating what Eito is going to do next. "Don't... Don't stop-" Takumi pants, wetly. He stops tugging against where Eito's pinned his wrist, and tries to keep his hips still as best he can, and hopes that appeases Eito enough.
Eito just makes a non-committal humming noise, almost bored. The type of response that causes something cold to drop to the pit of Takumi's stomach. But Eito doesn't stop. He twists his hand the way he knows Takumi likes, and he presses his thumb underneath the head in the way he knows Takumi goes a little crazy for, bites down hard into his skin, and it's less that Eito lets him come and more that Eito kicks him straight off the edge. He feels his orgasm rip hard through his body, abruptly and violently, his breathing leaving him in short, sharp, jagged gasps. A sheer sense of pleasure surges through him, relief seeping into his bones and weighing him down.
Eito keeps touching him, saying something he can't quite hear properly, letting him ride it out until it starts to dip into overstimulation. Eito's control leaves his right hand, and Takumi doesn't have the energy to do anything else but let his hand flop onto the bed next to him.
It takes Takumi a while to come down, for his breathing to even out, for the aftershocks to subside enough. Eito, the nice friend he is, waits until Takumi is back to the world of the living before he starts speaking to him. There's no point in talking without a coherent audience.
"Oh, would you look at the time. Your time management leaves something to be desired, my dearly abominable friend." Eito's commentary returns, as even and level as ever. "You'd better be quick if you want to catch up with your friends in the cafeteria."
Takumi stares flatly at the wall, as best as he can while still being as dazed as he is. I seriously need to kill this guy.