(no subject)
Title: Acts of Insurrection (15/20)
Authors: butterflyweb and nemesis_cry
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: OT5
Warning(s): violence, graphic sex, language, (in this chapter) rape and torture
Summary: It's been six months since Changmin crashed on the remote planet known as Elysia. Five months since Yunho and Junsu found him. Four months since Jaejoong was shot by a man he and Yoochun both trusted. Now training as the Empress' men, former soldiers and former rebels have shed past allegiances in service of a common goal. But the tide is turning--and not in their favor.
Banner credit: luvmeanddespair
A/N: Thank you for all your wonderful feedback for the first part. We hope you enjoy this one!
Prequel: Acts of Contrition;
Acts of Insurrection: One; Two; Three; Four; Five; Six; Seven; Eight; Nine; Ten; Eleven; Twelve; Thirteen; Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
It's been hours since Junsu was taken.
The cell is dark and dank and everything a prison should be, Yoochun thinks with black humor, pacing back and forth in the small space. Agitation claws at him, worry devouring his insides like a fetid beast. He feels like a caged animal and he assumes they like him this way. They'll probably keep him alone to study like a fucking lab rat. They're capable of it; of driving him slowly insane with the silence and the harsh light and the never-ending waiting.
They have to bring Junsu back, he used to be one of them. Surely bonds of allegiance aren't severed so easily. He has to know the other man is safe.
A harsh sound signals the heavy door is being unlocked. Instinctively, he backs himself into a corner, tripping over the mattress-free bed.
In Junsu's place, there are soldiers.
Yoochun clenches his teeth, trying not to feel the fear edging into his veins. They're just men, he tells himself. Not the fucking ghouls that go bump in the night. Nothing to fear. It's not convincing. His back hits against the wall, fists clenching at his sides.
"Where's Junsu?" he spits, panic starting to creep into him.
There's a harsh chuckle echoing in the room, but it's insincere and perverted. These men are dangerous, his gut tells him, stomach tightening in response. Emotions are felt through the stomach, he remembers being told once, maybe even by Jaejoong, maybe when they kissed for the first time. He pushes the thought away as the men come forward.
"Where's--"
His only reply is the edge of a club crashing into his side. He doubles over, staggering in place just as two more men flank him. A fourth closes the door behind them. He chokes at the sudden spike of agony in his ribs, one arm wrapped around his torso.
Fear now, white hot and insistent.
"Looks like rebel scum," one of the men laughs, digging a fist into the side of his neck. "Smells like rebel scum..." Another fist lands in his side. "Guess it must be rebel scum, right, boys?" There's a general hum of agreement.
"Do you know what do we do to rebel scum?" the man whispers into his ear, low and intimate. "Teach it a lesson."
His teeth bang together, gritted against the pain because he won't scream, won't give these assholes satisfaction.
Two instincts, two types of animals. Those that curl up and wait to die and those that struggle. He won't be the former. Another vicious blow over his shoulder and he aims a kick to one of the bastards' knees, feeling a small rush of satisfaction when he hears a crunch.
It doesn't last.
The club descends on his shoulders and back, sending him to the ground in one swift blow. Another follows quickly behind it. And another. And another until all he can feel and see is dark spots before his eyes. He focuses on biting the inside of his mouth to keep from screaming. It gets harder with every blow, so instead he focuses on giving back what little he can.
A kick aimed with what little leverage he has sends one of the men doubling over and clutching his crotch. Distantly, Yoochun wishes he could castrate the son of a bitch and he hasn't felt like that about another human being since Jaejoong, since coming to the city. But then, these aren't human beings. Human beings wouldn't do what these men are doing.
He feels himself being dragged off the floor, is dimly aware of the curses thrown his way, of spittle hitting his cheek, wet and revolting. He tastes blood in his mouth, tries weakly to spit back at them and fails, manages to earn another sharp blow across the face.
Crushing grasps on his arms push him down, cheek hitting the cold metal of the cot.
Dimly aware, he feels his hands being gripped tightly, stringing his back as if for a whipping. He hasn't been whipped since his daddy used to drink an eternity ago. It's been ages and he never begrudged him that. But then his daddy didn't have hate in him.
The club comes down on his back, bruising where it doesn't cut open the skin. It falls again against the back of his head and he feels his vision blur. When he can refocus his thoughts, he finds he's naked from the waist down. Panic surges through him, and equal parts confusion, struggling weakly against the hands that hold him.
"Trying to fuck up the Guard, you little shit," someone whispers in his ear, pulling his hair, forcing his face into the bedsprings and down so he can see the world upside down, so he can see exactly what they've planed for him. "Think you can take us on. Yeah, I'll teach you."
The club, already sticky with his blood, smacks threateningly into the man's open palm. Booted feet kick his legs apart and the confusion is clearing and Yoochun bloodies his lips biting down against a plea. He won't beg.
He won't beg, he thinks, as they bruise his hips.
He won't, not even when he feels gloved hands push and prod at him.
He won't, no matter what. No matter how much it hurts.
A scream echoes through the cell, hollow and obviously to their liking. The soldiers laugh. Pain amuses them. He can't breathe. The agony of it is too much, ripping the air from his lungs, darkening his vision. Never like this, not even with the men from the city and he'd thought that was the worst it could've been. They jeer at him, rip him apart from the inside and he prays the Gods will let him black out, will let him escape from this.
The Gods have abandoned Elysia a long time ago, he thinks, remembering how he used to curse their names. They fail to rescue him this time around as well, leaving blissful clarity to envelop him like a cover of thorns. Harsh pinpricks dig into him with every breath, the edge of the cot drilling into his stomach, his arms being pulled forward until he's sure the bones will crack and behind him... behind him...
"Fucking whore!"
He can feel the blood trickling down his thighs, shuts his eyes against tears of pain and humiliation. Tries to be somewhere else in his mind, to cling to something but each and every safety net slips through his fingers. Desperately, his thoughts go to Jaejoong, but he shuts off that avenue immediately. Won't dare taint him, them, with this, not even in his thoughts.
He can't hope it'll be over. It doesn't feel natural, doesn't feel human. He glances down with little hope of catching his breath only to see the end of a dark club protruding. Bile rises to his lips. He's going to throw up.
Whether he does or not, he doesn't know. Time crawls by like inchworms and he can only feel the push and the limp defeat of his own body. When at last the cruel implement is removed, he feels like it takes his insides with it, another choked scream torn from his ragged throat. It's over, he thinks, he prays, shutting his eyes tightly. Let it be over.
Gloved hands trace a finger over the tattoo on his back, snickering along with the others as he reads it aloud.
"Soul mate, huh?" A laugh. "Think we should leave our mark, don't you, boys?" There's a hum of agreement and a gun charging.
This is it, he thinks. This is how it ends. Raped and beaten and left for Junsu to find when they bring him back. If they ever do.
He waits for the discharge, waits to feel himself burning. It doesn't come and when he looks up, he finds his captors looking over his shoulder with great interest. He tells himself he's got nothing to fear. What more can they do?
A scream rips through him, tears streaking his face, as the smell of searing flesh fills the room.
They release him then, falling to crumple on the ground.
Darkness, thank the Gods, finally takes him.
Authors: butterflyweb and nemesis_cry
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: OT5
Warning(s): violence, graphic sex, language, (in this chapter) rape and torture
Summary: It's been six months since Changmin crashed on the remote planet known as Elysia. Five months since Yunho and Junsu found him. Four months since Jaejoong was shot by a man he and Yoochun both trusted. Now training as the Empress' men, former soldiers and former rebels have shed past allegiances in service of a common goal. But the tide is turning--and not in their favor.
Banner credit: luvmeanddespair
A/N: Thank you for all your wonderful feedback for the first part. We hope you enjoy this one!
Prequel: Acts of Contrition;
Acts of Insurrection: One; Two; Three; Four; Five; Six; Seven; Eight; Nine; Ten; Eleven; Twelve; Thirteen; Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
It's been hours since Junsu was taken.
The cell is dark and dank and everything a prison should be, Yoochun thinks with black humor, pacing back and forth in the small space. Agitation claws at him, worry devouring his insides like a fetid beast. He feels like a caged animal and he assumes they like him this way. They'll probably keep him alone to study like a fucking lab rat. They're capable of it; of driving him slowly insane with the silence and the harsh light and the never-ending waiting.
They have to bring Junsu back, he used to be one of them. Surely bonds of allegiance aren't severed so easily. He has to know the other man is safe.
A harsh sound signals the heavy door is being unlocked. Instinctively, he backs himself into a corner, tripping over the mattress-free bed.
In Junsu's place, there are soldiers.
Yoochun clenches his teeth, trying not to feel the fear edging into his veins. They're just men, he tells himself. Not the fucking ghouls that go bump in the night. Nothing to fear. It's not convincing. His back hits against the wall, fists clenching at his sides.
"Where's Junsu?" he spits, panic starting to creep into him.
There's a harsh chuckle echoing in the room, but it's insincere and perverted. These men are dangerous, his gut tells him, stomach tightening in response. Emotions are felt through the stomach, he remembers being told once, maybe even by Jaejoong, maybe when they kissed for the first time. He pushes the thought away as the men come forward.
"Where's--"
His only reply is the edge of a club crashing into his side. He doubles over, staggering in place just as two more men flank him. A fourth closes the door behind them. He chokes at the sudden spike of agony in his ribs, one arm wrapped around his torso.
Fear now, white hot and insistent.
"Looks like rebel scum," one of the men laughs, digging a fist into the side of his neck. "Smells like rebel scum..." Another fist lands in his side. "Guess it must be rebel scum, right, boys?" There's a general hum of agreement.
"Do you know what do we do to rebel scum?" the man whispers into his ear, low and intimate. "Teach it a lesson."
His teeth bang together, gritted against the pain because he won't scream, won't give these assholes satisfaction.
Two instincts, two types of animals. Those that curl up and wait to die and those that struggle. He won't be the former. Another vicious blow over his shoulder and he aims a kick to one of the bastards' knees, feeling a small rush of satisfaction when he hears a crunch.
It doesn't last.
The club descends on his shoulders and back, sending him to the ground in one swift blow. Another follows quickly behind it. And another. And another until all he can feel and see is dark spots before his eyes. He focuses on biting the inside of his mouth to keep from screaming. It gets harder with every blow, so instead he focuses on giving back what little he can.
A kick aimed with what little leverage he has sends one of the men doubling over and clutching his crotch. Distantly, Yoochun wishes he could castrate the son of a bitch and he hasn't felt like that about another human being since Jaejoong, since coming to the city. But then, these aren't human beings. Human beings wouldn't do what these men are doing.
He feels himself being dragged off the floor, is dimly aware of the curses thrown his way, of spittle hitting his cheek, wet and revolting. He tastes blood in his mouth, tries weakly to spit back at them and fails, manages to earn another sharp blow across the face.
Crushing grasps on his arms push him down, cheek hitting the cold metal of the cot.
Dimly aware, he feels his hands being gripped tightly, stringing his back as if for a whipping. He hasn't been whipped since his daddy used to drink an eternity ago. It's been ages and he never begrudged him that. But then his daddy didn't have hate in him.
The club comes down on his back, bruising where it doesn't cut open the skin. It falls again against the back of his head and he feels his vision blur. When he can refocus his thoughts, he finds he's naked from the waist down. Panic surges through him, and equal parts confusion, struggling weakly against the hands that hold him.
"Trying to fuck up the Guard, you little shit," someone whispers in his ear, pulling his hair, forcing his face into the bedsprings and down so he can see the world upside down, so he can see exactly what they've planed for him. "Think you can take us on. Yeah, I'll teach you."
The club, already sticky with his blood, smacks threateningly into the man's open palm. Booted feet kick his legs apart and the confusion is clearing and Yoochun bloodies his lips biting down against a plea. He won't beg.
He won't beg, he thinks, as they bruise his hips.
He won't, not even when he feels gloved hands push and prod at him.
He won't, no matter what. No matter how much it hurts.
A scream echoes through the cell, hollow and obviously to their liking. The soldiers laugh. Pain amuses them. He can't breathe. The agony of it is too much, ripping the air from his lungs, darkening his vision. Never like this, not even with the men from the city and he'd thought that was the worst it could've been. They jeer at him, rip him apart from the inside and he prays the Gods will let him black out, will let him escape from this.
The Gods have abandoned Elysia a long time ago, he thinks, remembering how he used to curse their names. They fail to rescue him this time around as well, leaving blissful clarity to envelop him like a cover of thorns. Harsh pinpricks dig into him with every breath, the edge of the cot drilling into his stomach, his arms being pulled forward until he's sure the bones will crack and behind him... behind him...
"Fucking whore!"
He can feel the blood trickling down his thighs, shuts his eyes against tears of pain and humiliation. Tries to be somewhere else in his mind, to cling to something but each and every safety net slips through his fingers. Desperately, his thoughts go to Jaejoong, but he shuts off that avenue immediately. Won't dare taint him, them, with this, not even in his thoughts.
He can't hope it'll be over. It doesn't feel natural, doesn't feel human. He glances down with little hope of catching his breath only to see the end of a dark club protruding. Bile rises to his lips. He's going to throw up.
Whether he does or not, he doesn't know. Time crawls by like inchworms and he can only feel the push and the limp defeat of his own body. When at last the cruel implement is removed, he feels like it takes his insides with it, another choked scream torn from his ragged throat. It's over, he thinks, he prays, shutting his eyes tightly. Let it be over.
Gloved hands trace a finger over the tattoo on his back, snickering along with the others as he reads it aloud.
"Soul mate, huh?" A laugh. "Think we should leave our mark, don't you, boys?" There's a hum of agreement and a gun charging.
This is it, he thinks. This is how it ends. Raped and beaten and left for Junsu to find when they bring him back. If they ever do.
He waits for the discharge, waits to feel himself burning. It doesn't come and when he looks up, he finds his captors looking over his shoulder with great interest. He tells himself he's got nothing to fear. What more can they do?
A scream rips through him, tears streaking his face, as the smell of searing flesh fills the room.
They release him then, falling to crumple on the ground.
Darkness, thank the Gods, finally takes him.