Grief made some people beautiful, didn’t it? How would Crow look with tear-stained cheeks and eyelashes that were crush-black against his skin? Beautiful. He would have looked beautiful. What about Yusei? He too, would look beautiful, when his usual upturned mouth was contorted with sadness and he cried. Kiryu couldn’t imagine what it would be like to watch Jack grieve. Maybe he was one of the ones who didn’t look beautiful. Maybe his face would flush red and he’d rack with sobs.
No, that wasn’t Jack at all. Jack would simply hang his head and silently cry. It would be beautiful, like an angel.
Kiryu didn’t know when these thoughts started, but he knew that they’d began innocently enough. The thought of watching Yusei squirm as he kissed and licked and bit his neck, the thought of pinning Crow down to a bed and ravaging his chest, the thought of Jack hooking his legs over his bicep while they fucked, gently, affectionately, kissing the inside of his knee.
What would it be like, he wondered, to love each of them in turn? Could he keep it a secret from all three of them that he’d slept with the others? Would he want to? Wouldn’t it be better to get them all together, Crow, Jack and Yusei, and have them all fuck each other? He could easily imagine Yusei and Crow both going down on Jack at once, pleasuring him, hoping to be rewarded with such pleasures themselves. Was it better to imagine himself, keeping all three of them at his whim, with the promise of pleasure, or was it better to imagine them fighting amongst themselves for it? He couldn’t decide.
What if Kiryu…. Died?
What if he died one day, suddenly, when only minutes before, the four of them had been cuddling in bed together, beautifully, blissfully, naked? He’d put on his clothes, leave, and never come back. Maybe someone would find his body in some alleyway in Satellite and take his belongings. Maybe his friends would weep for him, grieve beautifully, and they’d realize the only way they’d ever feel loved again was if they loved each other. Yusei would be the one to suggest it, Crow would agree, and Jack would, of course, be hesitant. He’d reject the idea even, because Kiryu had just died, and it felt wrong, didn’t it? –But it was so easy to ignore the wrongness, ignore the sadness in the name of desire. Every time one of them orgasmed, they’d think of Kiryu, and it would be a wonderful way to remember him, after he had died.
Why not? Wasn’t that better than them being sad? They’d grieve, they’d fuck, and then he’d be remembered as an Adonis in bed. Wasn’t that so much better?
Maybe that’s why Kiryu died so easily; he couldn't wait to come back to life and see if they’d started screwing like rabbits.
