Terror in the night

[500 Themes: 2]


When Barnaby thinks of Kotetsu, he always imagines him as a light within a dim room.

Now is no different, when Barnaby is wrapped up in the sheets of his own, empty bed in the pale, barely-there light of early morning. His face is half-pressed into a pillow, his fingers loosely wrapped around his cock, already slick with lube snatched up from underneath a pillow. Who else would he think of but Kotetsu – warm, strong Kotetsu, with equally strong hands, sharp teeth that mark him but as affectionately as much as possessively, with that cock of his, so long and thick every time it slides into him and spreads him open -

Ahh, but sometimes, he wishes Kotetsu's teeth would bite a little harder – enough to dig in and perhaps draw a bit of blood. Would Kotetsu lap it up, suck it off his skin? Barnaby shudders at the thought – at the thought of being strung up on this very bed, subjected to those teeth, that tongue, with no escape in sight -

His hand tightened, twisted just slightly, enough to make him gasp and jerk and muffle a deep groan into his pillow – a pillow that smelled of little more than Kotetsu, of all things.

What if Kotetsu held him down instead? What if it were his hands clawing down his arms shoving them in place by a tight, bruising grasp upon his wrists? What if it were his hands around his throat, squeezing, making him gasp and sob and lurch up for a full breath as he fucked him, lips trembling, begging wordlessly for him to stop because he needed to breathe before he could speak, because he didn't want this, because he definitely didn't want the slap to his face, telling him to shut up -

Barnaby's startled at hard that makes him, at how much it makes him jerk and snap his hips into his hand, at how fast he comes at the thought of Kotetsu doing those things to him. He's flushed hot as he pants, wide-eyed as he stares into the dark linen of his pillowcase, and shivers long and hard afterwards, fingers sticky and trembling as he fumbles, reaching for a pair of tissues to clean them with.

If he's getting off to that, what else is in there that's a bit more twisted?

It makes him wonder if fantasies to that degree aren't so much him, but Maverick, dark and winding within his consciousness. He can't quite recall if Mr. Maverick ever did such a thing, ever planted such thoughts, but oh, he's nervous. Kotetsu wouldn't hold him to the bed and do that unless he wanted it – Kotetsu would never deliberately, honest to god be out to hurt him, not like he was in those thoughts -

So why would he even come close to getting off to it?

Whatever twisted sliver of his mind that such thoughts cling to, Barnaby hates it – makes him wonder if he's okay and if he's even close to being safe.

If Kotetsu is even close to being safe.

Dead but not forgotten – and Barnaby is sure Maverick always wanted it to be that way.