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Another restless night, alone in the boredom of his own mansion.
Giyuu lied face up under the thin blankets of his futon, white sleeping yukata loosely wrapped around his muscular frame. His hands were placed at his sides. If he moved even a little bit, he was sure he'd do something he'd really regret in the morning.
'I hate being alone,' is a constant repeated thought in his mind. Chanting it like a distraction, he knew he was only a step away from delirium.
The sweet delirium that had it's victim biting their lips, arching their back as their hips stuttered; body in intense pleasure from weak and repetitive movements that still kept the soul on edge. The sweet delirium that also had it's victim scrubbing their body in disgust and shame and guilt of the memories of the night before, tears pooling in their eyes at the knowledge that — despite the actions their body forces upon them and how these actions make them feel, they would keep doing it without hesitation.
The exact delusion of last night ran through Giyuu's head.
"Ah!" Giyū's mumbled voice yelped out, his legs thrown over the familiar shadow.
It was Shinazugawa . Or was it Uzui? Giyuu couldn't remember which one of his co-workers he was fantasizing about tonight.
Sometimes, he'd be walking along a forest, surrounded by the darkness as the moonlight and shadow of large trees covered him from the purity of the clouds.
And during those moments, his mind would race. He could imagine how pretty Kanroji would look under him, hole filled to the brim with his body.
He could also imagine how angry Obani would be after he caught the two in this false scenario. Maybe he'd hit Giyuu, or tie him up and force him to watch as Obani shoved his cock into each hole of Kanroji's body.
Other times he'd think about Uzui and Rengoku all at once, his smaller frame between the two overly flashy and energetic men, Uzui's dick slamming in and out of Giyu's hole while Rengoku face-fucked him.
God, he could only imagine how good being man handled by Himejima.
Kocho may of annoyed him, but that only served him a perfect excuse to carelessly slide his mushroom shaped tip into the space of soft plumpness of her mouth, the ring of pink lipstick staining the base of his cock as she took him deeper into her throat.
Of course, after every thought like this; he'd feel horribly guilty. But can you blame a man for the unwanted thoughts that circle his mind like the reminder of breathing?
Giyuu's eyes rolled to the back of his head as Sanemi roughly fucked and man-handed him, his knees up to his chest as he was forced into a mating press.
The actual Giyuu, however, only coughed out a strangled whimper as he fucked his fist, legs spread — otherwise, he knew he'd clench around his hand due to the overwhelming pleasure.
This giyuu, however, only shrieked in disgust. He hated how his mind worked. He hated how the glossy clear pearls of wetness in the corner of his eyes were wetter than the space between his legs. He hated how he felt as though he'd explode if he didn't force his body to thrust into some sort of tight heat to get himself off.
Most of all, he hated how his mind always trailed back to the other hashira. He couldn't properly finish until at-least one image of his body getting fucked out by one of them, and he quite frankly felt horrible for it.
He felt like a dirty pervert, a sicko, and a freak.
But, oh my god, he just couldn't help it.
He couldn't help how all these memories caused a certain spot of his body to stiffen up. He couldn't help how his hand trailed to his yukata, carelessly pulling the obi away to let the Y shaped folds spread, much like how his legs spread right after. He couldn't help how his other hand immediately grasp the bulge. He couldn't help how he shakily breathed out. He also couldn't control how his left eye closed with the right one being half lidded as soon as his thumb circled his frenulum. He couldn't help how he moaned shamelessy and loudly, knowing that it was the dead of night; no one but the water hashira was around the water mansion at this time of the night. He couldn't help how his mind imagined some of the hashira's taking turns on his body, defiling him in an humiliating way. He couldn't help how he yelped and fucked his fist while humping the air weakly, semen spraying from his dick, lying flat on his chest and burning the skin right under.
He also, most certainly, couldn't control the way he would grimace in horror the next morning, having to stare the other Hashira in the eye during a meeting.