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The American pilot came in yesterday, to Kiku’s knowledge, and received his fair share of beatings. However, despite the beatings, he remains the most stubborn of their prisoners at the camp. G.I.s and their foolish devotion to their country only get them killed.
Kiku, the head officer of this POW camp, receives word of this stubborn prisoner and strangely feels intrigued. He’s even more intrigued when he comes to find out that this pilot’s name is Alfred Jones, an old flame of his from long ago that he thought would’ve been buried in the heart of conflict long enough to forget. Alas, he’s come to Kiku’s doorstep and begs for attention. How inconvenient.
At the same time, Kiku can’t lie to himself without feeling dishonest to his character. He’s yearned for that pilot for years now. Ever since a trip to the United States forced him to fall in love with the lively character that is Alfred, Kiku is no man to reject the opportunity to set things straight.
The next afternoon, a day after Alfred’s arrival here at camp, Kiku visits the underground dungeons where they keep new arrivals or particularly disobedient prisoners for a rightful torture session to keep them in check. They say the screams of the disobedient G.I.s lower the morale of newcomers almost instantly. However, when Kiku arrived, the dungeon was surprisingly empty. It seems everyone is on their best behavior.
In the very last dungeon at the end of the dim hallway, illuminated only by dying torches, Kiku, alone, unlocks the rickety door, and it opens with an echoing squeak.
Kiku is greeted with none other than the man himself—Alfred, sitting against the back wall, seemingly defeated, but to Kiku, he knows he’s preparing himself for more beatings. It looks like he was stripped of his jacket and the outer layers of his uniform since he only wears a white tank top, but his pants and boots remain. Immediately, Kiku takes notice of the beating scars that speckle Alfred’s body, his arms, and collar. They’re bruises, light scratches, and a few red scrapes.
Alfred’s jaw lifts at the man entering the dungeon, eyes locked with Kiku’s. “If you wanna kill me, just do it.”
Kiku almost wants to huff at the immediate call for death. “I won’t do that, sorry.”
A tiny gasp leaves Alfred’s lips when he recognizes his voice. “Kiku?”
“… Hey.”
Alfred’s head shakes, but his eyes are fixed on Kiku. “What the hell are you doing here? You’re an officer here?”
“… For a while, yes.” Kiku shuts the door behind him, but the keys remain in his hand. They jingle almost as if to tempt Alfred to come tackle Kiku for them, given he has no restraints holding him back, surprisingly.
“Kiku…” Alfred is at a loss for words. “Why…?”
“… Why, what?” He asks. “If you’d like to know, no… I didn’t choose this path.”
“No… That’s not what I’m wondering.”
“Then what is it?”
“Why’d you come down here?”
Kiku maintains a fair distance away from Alfred, but it’s not like he’s actively inching any closer. He’s keeping to himself quite nicely, in fact. “When I heard it was you, I knew there was something I could do.”
“… Do what? Did they know that?”
“No,” Kiku answers, “I never told them I knew you. In fact, I don’t usually come to visit prisoners. Yet… I wasn’t going to let them torture you pointlessly… You’d be torn to pieces before giving up on your pride.”
Alfred’s brows furrow. “My pride? Is loyalty considered pride?”
“I don’t care for your loyalty to your country,” Kiku takes a step closer. “I’m talking about you refusing to lose.”
“… As if you Japanese would give up easily, either. I know you.” Alfred’s tone soon sharpens into something accusatory. “We capture you guys all the time, and 9 times out of 10, you’d slit your own throats before submitting to us.”
“… Us?” Kiku holds Alfred’s glare before squatting slowly to meet his eye level. “Who do you think I am?”
“Just another Japanese. Who do you think I am?”
Kiku’s eyes narrow. “… Just another prideful American, willing to die for a country that doesn’t care about you.”
“Likewise… friend.”
“… That’s the difference between you and me,” Kiku then stands. “I’ll always know when to give up.”
Alfred scoffs, but he holds his silence. Kiku takes the opportunity to continue.
“You have two options,” Kiku states, “you can keep your silence… Continue to be tortured until either you die or give up. I’ll warn you… Men like you aren’t wanted here in this camp. Your death will likely be quick, but painful… Or, you can tell me where your fleet is headed next. Where each ship will be, how many there are, and you don’t have to be tortured.”
There’s a familiar fire behind Alfred’s blue eyes. He almost feels challenged. “Tough options… This is a labor camp, right? Tell you what… All the labor is about the equivalent of the torture you’ll give me if I stay quiet. So, really, I’m not winning either way. Really living up to the evil title, you Japanese.”
“… You can save yourself the broken bones that would hinder your ability to work,” Kiku shifts his foot onto the grainy, stone floor.
Alfred can’t help but chuckle. “Geez, who are you?” His laughter thins out into wheezes. “When did you become so cold?”
Kiku stays quiet while Alfred laughs to himself about the absurdity of this situation alone.
“God… I think I remember someone else—that someone ain’t you, man.”
His countenance remains blank for an emotion to be painted over it.
“You were shy,” his laughter settles, “barely spoke English, but I helped you around the city ‘cause I felt bad for you… We went drinking that one night, remember? I told you a Shirley Temple had alcohol, so you got it… and you thought you were drunk… but you weren’t. I knew you weren’t. I think you were just light-headed ‘cause you hadn’t laughed that hard in years…”
The memory becomes more vivid now.
Alfred asked if he wanted to go to a low-key bar down in North Beach. Kiku couldn’t refuse a good drink. Alfred recommended a Shirley Temple for a light buzz, and Kiku believed him. He proceeded to rant about his crazy home life and the hijinks his family gets up to, and it was the first time Kiku had lost his breath laughing.
Slowly but surely, his heart is dragged down by the weight of memories like those. The warm days on the San Francisco Bay are just one of many that weigh it down.
“… Is it just your job?” Alfred inquires now. “… Kiku, I hope you know I never forgot what you told me.”
Kiku’s eyes flicker some. “What?”
“That you loved me.”
Kiku recalls it now. Looking at the bay on some cliff only they knew of, in his poor English, he told Alfred that he loved him. He thought, even then, that saying love was much too intense for a friendship as ephemeral as theirs, but in that moment, there was nothing else he could say that could portray the feelings Kiku truly felt for him. You can only imagine his surprise when Alfred didn’t reject them, but they never explored that interaction since.
It was something only a stupid teenager like Kiku could have come up with.
It was seven years ago now.
“… You remember that?” Kiku asks.
“… And I remember when I told you I wanted to go back to Japan with you,” he explains, “and you said… We’d get a boat together and sail all the way to Yokohama.”
Of course. They’d work all day and night in the States, get enough money to buy their own boat, and then sail it to Yokohama. If only Kiku could’ve stayed longer on the continent.
“Why do you remember that?”
“… ‘cause every day since I was recruited to fight in this war, I thought about that dream more. We’d open up a toy shop. You’d use that sketchbook of yours to come up with toys, and I’d make and sell them for you. I was always good with hammers, y’know, and… I’ve always liked children. We’d live in the shop, someplace upstairs. It’d be cramped, but I would tell you I’d lose some weight if it meant you could have enough room to squirm around. I’d make our furniture so we wouldn’t have to spend our boat money.”
Kiku doesn’t have any words. He wishes to say something, but his mind short-circuits right when he attempts to utter anything.
“When we got enough money, we’d go to Japan… and set up shop there in Tokyo. I… I wouldn’t be selfish, y’know. I’d share all the money with you, so long as you shared with me. I mean, I—I always wanted to open a toy shop, I always wanted to work with kids for as long as I can remember… and I swore… I mean, I swear to you, I almost saw it, Kiku. I did, I really did!”
His eager, almost pathetic tone makes this facade harder to support. Kiku can feel his seams slipping and unravelling the more he talks.
“I mean… I prayed for you and me to survive, so I can send you a letter to that old address, if you still live there. I’d ask if you wanna come back and start over. We won’t ever have to say I love you like that again. We’re not kids anymore, but… I remember that sketchbook again, and I thought… God… I think I love this man… but… where is that man?”
Kiku’s breaths get shorter, his eyes flicker to places he has no reason to look. His hands grow clammy. Alfred notices the nerve sprawling like live wires, a circuit busted. Despite his gently aching body, Alfred props on his knee and uses the wall to help him stand. His own height shocks him—he doesn’t remember being this much taller than Kiku.
Then again, he and Kiku were only sixteen when they first met on the docks. Just a scruffy Japanese teenager who spoke almost no English, moving crates for cheap pay.
“Kiku, I get it that war changed you,” he mutters, “but I’m still in love.”
“Why?” Kiku’s tone is unintentionally sharp, but his emotions are spuddering like leaky faucets. “Why? Why now?”
Alfred’s brows furrow, but more so out of some sort of exhaustion, like he’s been letting that ache fester for a while now.
“I don’t know… I thought I could stand it, but I just can’t. Not with you right in front of me. I tried to drown it, but it still burns.”
Kiku still looks at him like that spoiled white boy, always walking the docks just to catch a glimpse of that Japanese teen, and build up enough courage to go talk to him. He even told Kiku that his parents, old-money types, didn’t like him looking at the Oriental workers, as it might incentivize them to start begging for tips, but this one was too fascinating to give up that easily.
“Then drown it again,” Kiku spits. “No benefit comes from you loving me.”
Strangely, Alfred smiles weakly. “I know.”
“… Then why?”
“… I’m just a colossal fuck-up, that’s why,” Alfred’s puny chuckle struggles to linger on his lips. “I had the chance to skip the draft, y’know. I still went anyway to avoid marrying this girl. When I go back, I gotta get married. No doubt about it.”
And that’s when it hits Kiku. He can’t imagine Alfred, that spoiled white boy, loving anyone else besides him. He’d go to war to avoid marriage, and in the off chance he’d find Kiku as alive as he is now or as a corpse.
“Did… Did you join to find me?”
Alfred’s smile tightens. “No… but thank God I did.”
“… You’re idiotic.” Kiku and all the POWs he’s monitored, the torture and labor, they’ll surely come to haunt him. Alfred’s rejection of a reasonable life for the sake of a fever dream that will never come true will surely come to bite him in the ass. “You’re an idiot… You always were an idiot.”
“… And may I always be one, just for you.”
“Alfred,” Kiku steps closer to him until there’s less than a foot of space. “I can’t get you out of here. There’s no possible way. No matter what, you will likely die here.”
Without warning, Alfred takes hold of Kiku’s gloved hands. “If I tell you everything, what would really happen to me?”
Kiku tenses slightly at his hands being held. It’s a forlorn sensation. “… I’ll release you from here. You would sleep in the barracks, and you work until sundown.”
“… And I’d die here?”
“Most likely.”
Alfred mulls over the situation, unlikely to change anything if he attempts to propose something to Kiku. But another smile breaks out, and it stays for a while. “I’m gonna ask you something stupid, Kiku…”
Kiku misses that sentence so dearly. I’m gonna ask you something stupid. It’s the same sentence he always uses when he’s about to ask to do something unconventional, like going to the bar late at night without his parents knowing, or going to Chinatown when he’s not supposed to mingle with the working class, let alone the Orientals—the Chinamen, the Japanese, et cetera.
“Do you wanna marry me?”
Kiku’s breath hitches. “… Marry you?”
“I don’t have a ring, but…” Alfred reaches the back of his neck and unhooks one of his dog tags. He gets down on one knee, back straightened, and presents the tag with the chain wrapped around his fingers. “If I’m gonna die here, let at least be married to you, so… ‘til death do us part?”
Kiku stares at the dull tag, containing Alfred’s full name, blood type, tetanus shots, and religion. “I…”
“C’mon, Kiku,” Alfred gazes up with big blue eyes, despite their exhaustion more than present, “let one part of my dream come true.”
“… You dreamt of marrying me?”
“One day,” he admits, “I don’t know when, but one day, I would.”
He’s promising a dead man. But, truth be told, death wouldn’t halt his love for him. Give a dead man the relief of knowing, for once, his idiotic decisions led to something good. To Kiku, maybe that’s the best thing he can do for someone he cares for more than his own honor. Something abstract about being proposed to by a man worth more than his life on an objective scale, and yet he has to give it to him.
He really did ask Kiku something incredibly stupid.
“I do.”
And Kiku is a man full of contradictions either way.
Kiku takes up the dog tag from Alfred, undoing the small lock and latching it around his neck. He’s doing something idiotic, and it will surely come to haunt him. But, who’s he to care for consequences?
He made the largest mistake responding to that nagging rich boy on the dock.
And this is surely the consequence.
Alfred stands from his knees, a light surprise painting his face, and he takes Kiku’s hands into his own. “‘til death do us part?”
“Until death.”
Alfred’s hand slides up to rest on Kiku’s shoulder, then climbs to his neck. They share a look, like this will be the last time, and it may be, but they can’t think of that now.
“I can’t afford a big honeymoon,” Alfred’s voice is lower as if obscuring itself from any eavesdroppers. “I guess this is gonna have to do.”
“I didn’t ask for one.” Kiku’s hand drags itself to Alfred’s cheek.
“I still have to give you something…”
Kiku thinks about it, and then it clicks. “I want to be your first time.”
“Then I guess I want to be yours.”
His hand on Kiku’s neck pulls him in closer until their lips barely meet, because Alfred hesitates only for a moment. “You sure we won’t get caught?”
“… I hope not.”
Their lips collide for the first time and hold their kiss. Alfred pulls away briefly before planting three softer pecks across Kiku’s cheeks and then returning his lips for another longer kiss.
Kiku is alarmed at the sudden strength from Alfred when he starts pushing him into the wall, but is welcoming of it nonetheless. Alfred’s tongue begs for entry against Kiku’s teeth, and Kiku also welcomes the warm, wet intrusion. He doesn’t remember being this small compared to Alfred; he must’ve done plenty of maturing the last time they met.
Alfred’s hands grip and massage the thin flesh of Kiku’s hips, but also uses that strength to keep him pinned against the wall. From a back glance, you really couldn’t see Kiku at all when Alfred’s frame swallowed his.
Alfred pulls away for air, strings of saliva connecting their tongues and lips. Kiku grabs onto Alfred’s wrist and lowers them to his groin and grinds against it. Alfred reciprocates by pushing against the growing bulge, still taking the liberties of kissing Kiku aggressively until there are bruises on his lips. Kiku’s moans are muffled as a result, but his hands wrapped around Alfred’s neck tell him to never stop, not until it kills them both.
Alfred mutters against his lips, Kiku still kissing him desperately with a few wispy whimpers lacing each breath. “I wanna put it in.”
When he feels Kiku whisper the gentlest “okay” against his lips, his hands immediately go to his belt and start hastily unbuckling it, then shoving his pants down his legs. Once Kiku removes his belt, hitting the floor with a sharp clink, Alfred handles his shoulder and flips him to face the wall. He shoves down Kiku’s pants in the process.
He spits onto his hand and starts fingering his entrance, provoking a choked moan that sounds like pure music to Alfred’s ears. As he continues to slide his fingers in and out, his lips linger around the shell of his ear, gently kissing the skin. He pulls briefly to spit more in his hands before returning to his entrance.
Without even intending to, Alfred presses against Kiku’s prostate, as evidenced by the high-pitched yelp that breaks free from his partner.
“Like that?” Alfred whispers, trying to find that certain spot. “I wanna hear you again…”
Once he finds the right spot to prod, he doesn’t relent.
“Ah…” Kiku tries to say something, but he can’t even think of the right words… or really any words. His head rests against his forearms, pushed against the wall. All he can see is Alfred’s shadow and his own cock leaking precum. He can feel it trail down his shaft.
Suddenly, Alfred’s hand grips his cock and starts pumping. The noises, once controlled and suppressed enough, start shuddering out of Kiku viscerally. It’s such an intense amount of pleasure all at once for the first time that tears prick at Kiku’s eyes, though he is anything but pained or sad.
“I’m sorry,” Alfred mumbles, kissing the back of his neck, “I’ll finish up.”
He pulls out his fingers and aligns his own aching cock right with Kiku’s entrance, both hands now firmly gripping his hips. He only nudges the tip inside, savoring the feeling as it sends a shiver up his spine. “Oh, fuck…”
Alfred knew at that moment that he wasn’t going to be able to stop. He couldn’t stop now.
Blanking as a result of the sensation too tantalizing to refuse, he thrust all the way in. Kiku grits his teeth and squeezes his arm, holding back a noise that would’ve been too loud, despite being alone in this dungeon. A long, low groan vibrates from Alfred’s throat to his abdomen as he thrusts slowly back and forth, keeping Kiku’s hips in place. His mind slowly becomes intoxicated from that feeling—the warmth of being inside Kiku, after so long.
It’s almost heavenly.
Kiku’s eyes focus on the dangling dog tag around his neck, reminding him of who’s fucking him like this. He knows if anyone found him in this position, the one receiving instead of giving, at the very least, they’d torture this side of him out. As carnal as it is, perhaps as unnatural as it is, Kiku didn’t care right now. This is a want so deep-seated that he never knew he needed it until he had.
“God, you feel so fucking good…” Alfred’s hot, sultry breath pours itself down Kiku’s ear to his neck. His thrusts are slow but tender, truly savoring the feeling while it lasts. It’s just one of those sensations you know you’re gonna lose soon, so you might as well devour it. “I don’t wanna let you go. I ain’t ever gonna let you go.”
His lips soon kiss his neck, keeping his thrusts at the same pace for affection purposes. Kiku knew if he didn’t love him as much as he did, he’d split him in half. But this leisurely pace is helping him adjust as needed.
“Here.”
Alfred moves one of his hands from Kiku’s hips to his begging cock again, stroking at the same speed as he thrusts in and out of him. Kiku lets out a faint whine, one that Alfred’s lips keenly kiss and drink. “There you go… I wanna hear you.”
To satisfy this request, Kiku lets his guard down and begins letting those small whimpers slip through.
Suddenly, Alfred’s hips begin moving a little faster, the hand on his hip gripping tighter, and the stroking of his cock getting quicker. “My husband… Always mine…”
“Ah… Alfred…” Kiku moans out, and he keeps trying to figure out some words, but the pleasure is crushing him.
“Just do it,” his hand begins massaging his hip as his hold tightens, “I’m gonna love you, anyway.”
“Faster…” He gulps down a moan. Alfred follows his ask dutifully and speeds up his jerking as well as his thrusting.
Kiku’s orgasm consumes his mind, then his body. His vision goes white; blink, then it’s gone. It crashes over him—eyes roll back, an unnaturally guttural, long moan is pumped out of him, and his legs tremble. To him, it’s so powerful, he thought he was going to pass out, but as quickly as it came, it vanished. He can feel the hot cum shooting out from his cock, strings coating Alfred’s jerking hand.
“That’s it, my love,” Alfred milks every drop out of Kiku’s cock.
Droplets paint his hand. With enough coating, Alfred brings it to his mouth and licks the cum off. He licks his whole hand clean, letting the flavor simmer on his tongue—half salty, half bitter, but Alfred had a tolerance for both, and it’s his husband’s taste. It wouldn’t matter.
Alfred presses firm kisses on Kiku’s neck as he picks up the pace, groaning into his skin.
“Shit…” Suddenly, teeth are nipping his skin, but not hard enough to bite. The slapping of skin quickens as Alfred nears his climax, evident by the frequent groaning and almost hurtful gripping of Kiku’s hips.
He then goes rigid all of a sudden, and Kiku can feel his warm cum spurting inside him, a feeling that makes him gasp, then whine. He can feel him ejaculate, his cock almost twitching rapidly with each spurt.
“Oh, God…” Alfred buries his face in Kiku’s black hair.
There’s an intermediate period where all they do is soak in their presence, warm and sweaty, breathing heavy, where saliva droplets moisten on fabric or skin. For a while, this is all they can do until Alfred fixes himself again. He never pulled out, and he’s only half hard, but his body yearns for more. It yearns for Kiku more than it needs rest.
His arm wraps around Kiku’s waist from behind, keeping him in place. “Let me go one more time…”
Kiku, still regaining his thoughts from his almost mind-crushing orgasm, mutters. “One more?”
“Yeah,” Alfred mutters, “God knows when I’m gonna do it again.”
For all that it’s worth, Kiku’s own mind doesn’t know the limits of his body. All it really wants is Alfred, and he can’t say goodbye just yet.
“… Okay.”
They’ll go at it one more time.
Alfred takes full advantage of it, and it feels like he is already getting hard again. He starts thrusting slowly, remembering that particular spot inside Kiku. Wherever it was, he could surely keep pressing it with his cock.
Kiku’s cock leaks some mixture of precum and cum—he can feel the residual droplets trailing down his leg. At this point, his mind is fucked out… and Alfred accomplishes his task when his precise, slow thrusts strike that particular spot almost perfectly. Kiku unintentionally cries out, surprised at his own noise, but with any task complete, the mission isn’t finished yet until he can leave Kiku crying or begging or both.
Right when he’s leaning over Kiku’s slightly arched back, his solid cock can press his prostate like a button. When he leans over him, he can leave kisses and bruises on his neck, the cold chain of his dog tag—his wedding accessory—giving the salty taste a metallic tang.
His thrusting soon turns into fucking, deliberately fast and hard, striking his prostate almost every time. It’s a pulse of pleasure that Kiku convulses at, each thrust punctuated by a moan squeezed out of his throat. Alfred’s hands slip under Kiku’s loose uniform shirt and begin toying with his hard nipples, pinching and rubbing them.
For a moment, he brings out his fingers from under his shirt and sticks them into Kiku’s agape mouth, who, mindlessly, begins to lap them up. Once coated enough, he moves that hand to Kiku’s cock, but only grips it, then rubs the tip with his thumb and spreads the precum and residual cum while mixing it with saliva.
Without warning, Kiku cums again with a yelp. His cum trickles down the head, then onto Alfred’s fingers. Alfred, as a result, thrusts deeper into him, and it seems that it forces more cum to spurt out with each thrust. Right alongside the orgasm and the cum, Kiku’s body shakes uncontrollably.
“You’re so handsome,” Alfred pants, suppressing a moan with each word, “I thought that since the day we met, I swear it…”
Kiku tries to swallow the unswallowable lump in his throat, but only tears can stream as a result of such effort. “I love you…”
“… Say that again.”
“I love you!” Kiku shouts out, still partial to the beating pleasure emitting from Alfred’s constant fucking to the point where he is never getting out of his pinning against the wall. He can feel his heart race in his chest; it pounds in his ear.
“I love you, too, hon,” Alfred lightly kisses Kiku’s ear, despite his aggressive rutting, “I always will.”
Shortly after that, his whole body grabs onto Kiku’s right as he cums. Kiku feels Alfred’s cock twitching inside him as his cum pours into him again. He rides out his orgasm with a few more weak thrusts into Kiku. He doesn’t pull out for a while, but just from his exhausted posture, he’s done. His warm panting breath caresses Kiku’s neck, and as for Kiku, all he can do is appreciate Alfred’s embrace from behind.
Alfred pulls out of Kiku. All the cum fucked inside Kiku trickles from his entrance, running down his inner thigh slowly. Alfred’s lips press all kinds of kisses, firm and soft, on the back of Kiku’s neck and shoulder.
“Turn around.”
When Kiku flips to his back, Alfred immediately snatches his lips with his own. Kiku’s hands explore his partner’s back curiously as their lips massage each other relentlessly. Alfred breaks the kiss to press more around the soft skin of his jugular, across the ridge of his collar, then drops to his knees to plant those seeds of pure bodily adoration on his hips and navel. He then leans his head against his flat stomach.
“I don’t wanna lose you.” He mutters into his skin, professing to both his body and mind.
Hearing those words vibrate against his skin feels like something he wouldn’t hear for eternity. Curse his own selfishness, his own partialness to a curse known as unconditional love. He has that incurable disease that will kill him, and his logical side can’t sit with that fact, but his heart certainly can.
Kiku’s fingers slide through Alfred’s blond hair, pressing him closer. He feels Alfred’s eyes close, submitting… or maybe accepting would be the right word for now.
“Alfred,” his name can leave his mouth as easily as it surely stings his lips, “I swear.”