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“Hey Satoru?”
Suguru, Satoru's best friend, called out. He huffed a strand of his black hair out of his face, waiting for the other’s response. They sat on Satoru’s bed, the white haired boy's head perking up in response. Satoru sat up, now paying attention to Suguru.
“Yeah?” Satoru answered, using a finger to prop up his glasses back onto his nose.
“Imagine we called each other pet names?”
Satoru stared at the boy in front of him, completely dumbfounded by the ridiculous question. Satoru’s eyes flickered over the black hair boy's face. Suguru's eyes gleaned with some sort of…hunger, his lips curled into a smirk. Satoru practically shivered at the sight.
“...W-What?” Satoru croaked out, still shocked by the question.
“I mean it! Try “daddy” for example!”
The white haired boy felt uncomfortable with Suguru's tone of voice, excited however serious. It felt like he was passionate about it. Satoru gulped, the last breath that held his final drop of common sense.
“D-Daddy…” Satoru murmured, the sensibility leaving his body.
“Good job, pup.”
Suguru growled. Satoru was confused. Suguru, a guy that he's always and only been platonic with, makes Satoru call him “daddy” and looks turned on by it?
“Don't act confused with me. You're my puppy. You're mine. You have always been mine.”
The black haired boy stated, inching closer to Satoru. He took off his shirt, tossing it aside. Suguru grabbed Satoru’s hips, pressing their bodies flush together. Satoru could feel the other's bulge throbbing against his.
“S-Suguru, please, w-we're best friends, we shouldn't be doing this-”
“Shut up. Puppies don't speak, do they?”
Suguru interrupted, his gaze dark, filled with need. Suguru's face moved closer, desire washing over him. Then-
Satoru woke up.
He was sweating, still in shock from the dream he had.
“Thank the lord that that was a dream.” Satoru thought.
Satoru sat up, feeling a hot, tingling sensation in his legs, and a bitter taste in his mouth. He didn't care though, since his body felt weird after rest anyways.
“I should freshen up.”
He got out of his bed, slipping on his slippers. Satoru glanced at the glasses on his table, wondering if he needed them at that moment. He quickly shut it down and went to the bathroom.
Satoru walked to the shared bathroom, hearing things moving around in the living room. He thought nothing of it, since Suguru always did abnormal activities. The white haired boy eventually got to the bathroom, entering it. He looked in the mirror, realizing he had a large, red patch of skin on the front of his neck.
It looked somewhat like a hand shape, but Satoru pushed those thoughts away because he didn't have his glasses with him. The more Satoru looked, the more he realized there were tons of tiny marks on his body.
“...Am I allergic to something in the apartment?”
Satoru questioned. He stared blankly into the mirror, until a voice broke the silence.
“Hey! Come here!”
Suguru yelled. Satoru sighed, walking out of the bathroom and making his way to the living room. Once he got there, Satoru saw Suguru with some sort of poster on the wall.
“The fuck is this?” Satoru asked.
“A genius fucking plan of course! At the end of each day, you'll get a sticker. If you are good, you get a “good boy” sticker, vice versa. On Sunday, if you get more good stickers than bad, you'll get a prize. However, if you don’t behave, don't expect me to be nice.”
Satoru genuinely chuckled, not believing the sight in front of him. “A-are you serious?”
“What do you mean?”
Suguru questioned, being completely serious.
“You're just a toy. A little playing that's all for me. Don't you remember?”
Satoru stood still, and then remembered. He never belonged to himself, he belonged to Suguru. Satoru was just a little humanoid toy, made to be fucked, beaten and played with by Suguru. All Satoru’s decisions, words, movements, even thoughts, belonged to Suguru.
“Now you remember? Good pup.”
Suguru grabbed a collar from the coffee table, the closest one. The black haired boy gently put the collar around the other's neck, closing the clasped.
Satoru was just Suguru's possession, being handled like a weapon.