Dark Prompt: Demons/Angels/Fallen Angels/etc.
They guide Light through the corridors without touching him. He doesn't like being touched by them. He doesn't like anything about them, about this, but he can't escape, so he follows their dim gleam through invisible halls and pretends that it doesn't bother him.
He's not sure if they know he can't see properly any more, but he thinks they probably do - it's the reason he hasn't tried to escape, after all, and he hasn't been careful enough for them not to realise that he wants to.
They stop. He stops a pace behind them, and watches as one of them pantomimes opening a door, barely visible finger tapping out a code on a completely invisible lock, barely visible hand curling around a completely invisible handle and pushing. "Do have fun," one of them purrs, and his hearing has been altered to the point that he can't even tell if it's a voice he should recognise, a voice he knew before.
He hopes not.
He nods, keeping his expression blandly dismissive - the arrogance hides the fear, and that might be the only thing keeping him safe. He doesn't know what more they could do to him, but that's a horror all its own, because he thinks that they don't know either - and they'd enjoy finding out so very much.
He steps through the doorway, wings pulled close to keep them from catching on the sides, tail tucked beneath them, painfully grateful that his horns are short enough for him to pass under the doorframe without needing to bow his head.
It takes everything he has not to stop and just stare.
There's a person in the room, and he can see them. They glow, as bright as his own body does when he can bear to look at himself, a statue carved in silver-blue light.
An obscene statue.
Light is pretty sure the humming he picks up is electronics, and that probably means there are cameras watching. He knows what they want to see, so he tries to give an impression of appreciating the view of a stranger lying on their back, legs doubled up uncomfortably and arms stretched out, wings underneath them -
Wings.
Light walks forward, trying not to show his weakness, trying to seem dignified instead of blind.
The stranger twitches, but nothing more, and Light swallows down bile as he realises that they must be tied down. He reaches, carefully, holding his hand so that he can run his fingertips over the stranger's face without dragging his claws over it - he has no idea how much damage they'd do. For all he knows, they're venomous, and he might kill the stranger with a single touch.
He starts at the stranger's thick hair, part of him wondering what colour it is. His fingers touch bare skin as they travel past the stranger's eyes - so the stranger can see him, then, unless the room is dark (he can't tell, he thinks that part of the electronic hum is a lit bulb but everything is different now and he can't tell). The sense of reciprocity reassures him, steadies him enough that he lets himself look closer at the face beneath him.
He doesn't recognise it. The stranger is androgynous to the point he couldn't even tell that they're a man if it weren't for the - obvious - proof - that he is not looking at except from the corner of his eyes, pressing tight against the stranger's stomach (does he like this? Is he enjoying being tied down while a monster strokes him?). The man's mouth is opened uncomfortably wide, and as Light runs his fingers down he feels a band of some material. His fingers slide across to find a plastic ball holding the man's mouth open.
Gagged.
Light slides his fingers in the other direction, looking for a fastening he can undo. He's lucky - the metal catch is cold and hard under his fingers, easy to recognise. He tilts his fingers the slightest amount and draws the tips of his claws over where the buckle is.
There's a quiet clink, but no resistance.
He lifts his hand away and reaches for the ball again - and this time the strap is loose. His claws must have gone through the metal. He hopes they didn't go through the stranger's skin, too.
Awkwardly, angling his hand so that there's no risk of his claws piercing the stranger, Light manages to get the gag out of his mouth. "Can you talk?" he asks softly, hoping that there are no microphones close enough to pick up what he's going to say.
The stranger is staring up at him (so he can see him) warily, working his lips and jaw. "Yes," he admits, and Light isn't sure but he thinks that the voice is as androgynous as the man's face.
That admission is the greatest amount of trust anyone has ever shown Light.
"I - I'll try to get you free," Light murmurs, mind flying through plans to excuse himself, to protect the man in front of him, if the people holding them here dislike his actions. "Would you prefer arms or legs first?"
The stranger raises his eyebrows, eyes going wider in surprise. "You - you can't see, can you?"
Light tenses, can't help himself, doesn't want to answer - but this is something that the stranger will need to know, so he forces his pride down and admits, "Not properly. I don't understand what's happened to my sight."
The stranger's face is almost blank, but his colours - swirl, pulse, move? Light can't even describe it to himself, and it disturbs him on a completely new level to realise that he instinctively understands that the change means embarrassment, humiliation, because the recognition is familiar and Light knows enough about neurology to realise that at least some of his mirror neurons must have been changed to read this instead of physical cues, and the effects from that - he knows his body is no longer human, but he can't afford the questions that are rising about how much of his mind still is.
Those questions are scattered when the stranger says, "Then could you remove the vibrators first?"
Light has never blushed - he's physically incapable - and he's glad of it, because he has no idea what that would look like on his changed face. Reluctantly, he steps back and turns his attention to the area of the stranger's body that he has been trying to ignore.
And blinks. And tries very hard not to freeze and stare - but it is hard, because now that he's looking he can see far too clearly that beneath the stranger's scrotum he has two openings, and one seems to be a vagina.
Light underestimated the stranger's androgyny, he tells himself, and then swallows another surge of bile as he realises what this means, what this is about, why he's been brought here. Trying not to think about it, he gingerly reaches to feel what he's dealing with, and finds that the vibrators are in fact one vibrator, a double-ended dildo bent over and forced into both holes. His hand tightens a little too far as he takes hold of it, and he hears a crunch as part of the electronic hum in the room goes quiet.
The stranger sighs with relief as the dildo is withdrawn. Light throws it to the side, unwilling to risk stepping on it at any point, and hears a wet thud as it hits a wall.
"Thank you. Now my legs," the stranger directs, and Light obeys with the same cautious technique he used to remove the ballgag, then does the same with the stranger's arms without being asked.
He manages to brush the back of his hand over the stranger's wings as he does it, and feels a softness that he is convinced is feathers. "Are you one of the nephilim?" he breathes.
The stranger tenses - caution, paranoia - but answers honestly. "Yes. And yourself? A demonspawn?"
Light nods slightly, distracted by trying to figure out whether the stranger's - the nephil's - wings have been restrained. "These people round them - us - up," he explains, "to use to get our progenitors' favour."
"How?" the nephil asks sceptically.
"There's a potion that brings out the magically recessive traits. I think it was designed for when mundane animals were bred by magical ones, but it works - a little differently - on human hybrids." Light stares at the golden blaze of his claws, his hands, against the moonlight glow of the nephil's wings. "It can be - not controlled, but - directed. Normally, the people it's given to don't understand what's going on, so when they see visible signs they panic, try to force them away - and that just makes all the changes non-physical."
"But you knew," suspicion growing.
"I looked." That hasn't explained anything. "When I realised what I was, I looked online, and found a video. I don't know if it still exists. A survivor, who'd recognised the potion when they used it on him, realised what it meant - you can choose whether your body or your mind - your soul - is affected, but you can't be unaffected." Light has to hold his hands above the nephil, he's trembling, his words are disjointed and this is not what he is like but he can't stay calm, can't be mature, the words just keep spilling out. "I don't know what the light I see is, but I've seen - they used the potion on another demonspawn, I think they were testing whether it was a bad batch, and she - she went dark, like they are, but from what they said she still looks human."
The nephil pushes Light back slightly, giving himself enough room to sit up. "You must be strong-willed."
Light chokes on a bitter laugh. "I meant to let that happen to me." The nephil stops. Light doesn't. "I thought - I've gone my whole life with appearances being all that matter, as long I look perfect no one cares about what I'm hiding, and I was sure I could hide that change as easily as everything else - but then it was happening, and I couldn't -" he shivers, pulls in a deep breath. "It's terrifying when you're aware enough to realise that your mind, your self, is being altered. And I - I couldn't do it. I couldn't - accept -"
The nephil reaches out and presses his hand flat against Light's chest. Light takes it as an order to be quiet, and obeys, grateful to be silenced.
"I thought the potion was meant to enslave me," the nephil tells him, explains the effect. "I thought that being changed like this would inhibit their plans -"
Light winces, can't not, and the nephil notices. "The other spawn are useful because they still look human. I don't. So they've been trying to think of other uses for me, and came up with -" he feels sick, but he forces his emotions away and continues evenly, "breeding possible hosts for the demons to possess. The problem there is that there's no reason to think that a human woman could survive carrying that sort of foetus, so..." He can't continue, he can't meet the nephil's eyes, he feels like he should apologise for putting the thought in their heads that breeding him with a human would be worthless but it had seemed such a perfect escape when he said it, passing it off as efficiency instead of mercy, and now this stranger is paying for his glib words and he cannot even bring himself to admit that he's responsible.
"They want to breed us," the nephil repeats, dubious, more swayed by Light's horror than by any sense of truth in the idea. Light shrugs, uncomfortable.
"I can't think of any other reason they'd lay you out like that and bring me here."
Disgust flickers over the nephil's face, ripples through his colours, and Light can tell that he's re-evaluating the situation and finding Light's suggestion more likely than he had. "Then what good does untying me do either of us? There are cameras."
Light nods slightly. "I know, but I think we've been quiet enough that the microphones won't pick up what we said, and -" he forces the emotions away again, turns to the clear-headed calculation that has kept him alive this long - "they'll believe it if they think I wanted to humiliate you into agreeing to this, and it'll be easier for us to fake it if we can control the position."
The nephil grimaces but nods back at him. "I understand," he says, voice raised for their hypothetical audience, and Light hopes that the disgust and defeat in it are merely good acting.
He steps back and lets a cruel smirk curl his lips. "Then prove it."
The nephil drops to his knees, head level with Light's groin, wings raised to shield his actions from the cameras - at least, that's what Light assumes. He could simply be stretching them or holding them in the least uncomfortable position.
The movement brings Light's attention to his own groin, which he has been avoiding even more than the rest of his body. His arms, his legs, his torso, all seem mostly human still. The tail and wings are additions, not alterations. But this area - his cock is sheathed, like a dog's, pointing at his navel. His urethra is a small opening below its base, like a woman's. His testicles seem to have vanished entirely, and there is a slit that he refuses to explore - he might be as much a hermaphrodite as the nephil in front of him, now. Everything about these changes forces him to acknowledge that he is no longer human, and he is much more comfortable refusing to acknowledge the changes.
But that isn't an option now.
Unaware of Light's musings, the nephil brings his hands up to Light's sheathed cock and starts to stroke.
Light tenses, his tail coiling and lashing up instinctively to bind the nephil's wrists and yank his hands away. Frustration shines in the nephil's colours, and Light forces his tail to relax and let go because it's not as if it's hard to understand what the nephil is doing. To convince their unknown audience, this will need to be believable. Their audience must have seen that Light isn't aroused. Without that changing, there's far too much risk of them realising that Light and the nephil are faking congress.
The nephil is calculating something, himself. He suddenly leans forwards and starts using his mouth, behaving as though Light's actions were a rebuke for using his hands instead of an automatic revulsion to being touched like this - by someone who hates it and has no choice in the matter - at all.
Light manages, this time, to keep himself from rejecting the nephil's actions. It's harder, so much harder, to find an appropriate expression and wear it, play at being spoiled and haughty instead of sickened and horrified.
It's worse when he actually gets hard, which is just stupid of him because everything happening here is his fault in the first place, and the least he can do is try to help the nephil stay alive with as little trauma as possible. But it's not just how little either of them want this, it's not even the fact that he's being forced to feel himself growing hard, it's the discovery that his penis now has a baculum and the bizarre feeling of a bone pushing forwards and out as he becomes erect, the way that something he, like most boys, had become used to in his teens is suddenly as unfamiliar as his vision.
The nephil looks just as weirded-out by this as he is, and Light could possibly learn to be grateful for this new way of seeing what people are feeling because it seems much more accurate and detailed than body language and facial expressions.
He doesn't have much to be grateful for about his transformation. He isn't sure if he wants anything.
"I think that'll do," he says, projects for the microphones. The nephil pulls back, tucks his wings - Light guesses he's letting the cameras see that Light is hard, and if it weren't for the bone he'd be getting soft again at the thought but his baculum holds his penis stiff for the few seconds the nephil is showing it off.
They stare into each other's eyes (more or less) as the nephil stands up. Light wonders what the nephil is seeing.
The nephil steps forwards, awkwardly wrapping his arms around Light's shoulders as he grinds against him half-intentionally. Light tries to ignore the slick fluids from the nephil's earlier torture as he tugs one of the nephil's legs up, gets his arm under the nephil's knee to support him, shuts down his mind's speculation on whether the nephil was this flexible before his transformation.
The nephil's wings rise suddenly, curling defensively around their heads and upper bodies. Light thinks it's instinctive, but takes the idea and drops his own wings, stretching them to block the rest of their bodies from view. He's startled for a moment when the nephil doesn't stop grinding against him, but a quickly muttered question - "Do you know how our wings should move if we're doing this?" - has him joining in.
It doesn't take long before they find the problem with Light's idea of faking it. Put simply, his plan was based on his anatomy being closer to what he is used to, and they are finding that the baculum gets in the way, making his penis too stiff to press closer to his stomach, holding it too straight to be guided to the crease of the nephil's thigh, jabbing into the nephil's lower stomach and genitals -
"Just do it," the nephil growls, and slides himself onto Light's dick before Light lets himself realise what he means. Between the slickness and the spreading the dildo caused, Light's penis goes in easily, and the nephil actually sighs with relief at not having the sharp tip of the bone digging into his flesh any more.
It feels good, and Light hates it. Hates that this is his first time, hates that this is happening at all, hates that any part of himself might enjoy raping someone - because that's what this is, neither of them are willing participants - and hates their captors for forcing him into this.
The nephil brushes his fingers over Light's cheek, surprised. "You're crying."
Light turns his head away. "Sorry."
"It's -" the nephil changes position slightly and shudders, inner walls tightening on Light's cock as his wings close tighter around them both, and Light has to grit his teeth not to start thrusting because it feels all slick and weird and horribly good. "It's not - something you need to - apologise for," the nephil gets out. "Try - nngh - try thinking of the last time you did this instead."
"I haven't done this before," Light snarls back.
"I meant before they captured you," the nephil snaps, voice shuddering as he squirms in Light's arms.
"So do I."
The nephil's realisation of what Light is saying throws him off his rhythm, shock, shame, defensiveness scattering through his colours. He hadn't realised that Light was a virgin. Apparently it matters to him that this is Light's first sexual experience, though Light doubts having anything to compare it with could make this better.
Light doesn't want to admit that it matters to him that this is his first time. Having a stranger - his partner in this - react as if it should makes him feel worse, cold and shameful, but he shoves the feelings down and away and keeps going, ignoring the tears apparently pouring down his face (and how is he still seeing so clear, why can't he feel them on his cheeks, what has happened to his body?) and trying to retreat into basic physical awareness - don't think, just move.
It doesn't help. He's never been able to just shut his mind down; trying to ignore his emotions for the physical sensations doesn't help him ignore his shame, it just makes him more aware of how much he has to be ashamed of, how much some part of him likes this, likes the nephil's strong body and soft noises and tight wet heat -
Light never understood before why someone might hate themself.
He starts moving faster, harder, wanting to just get it over with. The nephil moves with him, matching him thrust for thrust, and Light gives up on his pride and buries his face in the nephil's hair, lets the brightness blind him the way darkness no longer can, and pretends that none of this is happening.
The nephil stiffens against him, grunting, and Light feels hot fluid spurt over his stomach - and that's it, he's lost, sobbing helplessly into the nephil's hair as he comes inside him.
He wrestles the emotions down as soon as he can and pulls out. Something occurs to him, and he dares to meet the nephil's eyes again. "I-I could probably convince them that I'm feeling possessive. If you want."
The nephil doesn't smile, doesn't relax, but Light can see the relief flowing through him at the suggestion. It's comforting to have proof that the nephil still thinks he's better than their captors. "It would probably be best. Can we escape?"
"Together, maybe," Light tells him. "I can't see the walls or ceilings here, but - I can see through them. Most of them, at least. We're underground."
The nephil half-hugs him with his wings, calculation and determination shining. "Then we'd best start planning."
Light smiles slightly, and tries not to think about what will come after they've escaped.
He's not sure if they know he can't see properly any more, but he thinks they probably do - it's the reason he hasn't tried to escape, after all, and he hasn't been careful enough for them not to realise that he wants to.
They stop. He stops a pace behind them, and watches as one of them pantomimes opening a door, barely visible finger tapping out a code on a completely invisible lock, barely visible hand curling around a completely invisible handle and pushing. "Do have fun," one of them purrs, and his hearing has been altered to the point that he can't even tell if it's a voice he should recognise, a voice he knew before.
He hopes not.
He nods, keeping his expression blandly dismissive - the arrogance hides the fear, and that might be the only thing keeping him safe. He doesn't know what more they could do to him, but that's a horror all its own, because he thinks that they don't know either - and they'd enjoy finding out so very much.
He steps through the doorway, wings pulled close to keep them from catching on the sides, tail tucked beneath them, painfully grateful that his horns are short enough for him to pass under the doorframe without needing to bow his head.
It takes everything he has not to stop and just stare.
There's a person in the room, and he can see them. They glow, as bright as his own body does when he can bear to look at himself, a statue carved in silver-blue light.
An obscene statue.
Light is pretty sure the humming he picks up is electronics, and that probably means there are cameras watching. He knows what they want to see, so he tries to give an impression of appreciating the view of a stranger lying on their back, legs doubled up uncomfortably and arms stretched out, wings underneath them -
Wings.
Light walks forward, trying not to show his weakness, trying to seem dignified instead of blind.
The stranger twitches, but nothing more, and Light swallows down bile as he realises that they must be tied down. He reaches, carefully, holding his hand so that he can run his fingertips over the stranger's face without dragging his claws over it - he has no idea how much damage they'd do. For all he knows, they're venomous, and he might kill the stranger with a single touch.
He starts at the stranger's thick hair, part of him wondering what colour it is. His fingers touch bare skin as they travel past the stranger's eyes - so the stranger can see him, then, unless the room is dark (he can't tell, he thinks that part of the electronic hum is a lit bulb but everything is different now and he can't tell). The sense of reciprocity reassures him, steadies him enough that he lets himself look closer at the face beneath him.
He doesn't recognise it. The stranger is androgynous to the point he couldn't even tell that they're a man if it weren't for the - obvious - proof - that he is not looking at except from the corner of his eyes, pressing tight against the stranger's stomach (does he like this? Is he enjoying being tied down while a monster strokes him?). The man's mouth is opened uncomfortably wide, and as Light runs his fingers down he feels a band of some material. His fingers slide across to find a plastic ball holding the man's mouth open.
Gagged.
Light slides his fingers in the other direction, looking for a fastening he can undo. He's lucky - the metal catch is cold and hard under his fingers, easy to recognise. He tilts his fingers the slightest amount and draws the tips of his claws over where the buckle is.
There's a quiet clink, but no resistance.
He lifts his hand away and reaches for the ball again - and this time the strap is loose. His claws must have gone through the metal. He hopes they didn't go through the stranger's skin, too.
Awkwardly, angling his hand so that there's no risk of his claws piercing the stranger, Light manages to get the gag out of his mouth. "Can you talk?" he asks softly, hoping that there are no microphones close enough to pick up what he's going to say.
The stranger is staring up at him (so he can see him) warily, working his lips and jaw. "Yes," he admits, and Light isn't sure but he thinks that the voice is as androgynous as the man's face.
That admission is the greatest amount of trust anyone has ever shown Light.
"I - I'll try to get you free," Light murmurs, mind flying through plans to excuse himself, to protect the man in front of him, if the people holding them here dislike his actions. "Would you prefer arms or legs first?"
The stranger raises his eyebrows, eyes going wider in surprise. "You - you can't see, can you?"
Light tenses, can't help himself, doesn't want to answer - but this is something that the stranger will need to know, so he forces his pride down and admits, "Not properly. I don't understand what's happened to my sight."
The stranger's face is almost blank, but his colours - swirl, pulse, move? Light can't even describe it to himself, and it disturbs him on a completely new level to realise that he instinctively understands that the change means embarrassment, humiliation, because the recognition is familiar and Light knows enough about neurology to realise that at least some of his mirror neurons must have been changed to read this instead of physical cues, and the effects from that - he knows his body is no longer human, but he can't afford the questions that are rising about how much of his mind still is.
Those questions are scattered when the stranger says, "Then could you remove the vibrators first?"
Light has never blushed - he's physically incapable - and he's glad of it, because he has no idea what that would look like on his changed face. Reluctantly, he steps back and turns his attention to the area of the stranger's body that he has been trying to ignore.
And blinks. And tries very hard not to freeze and stare - but it is hard, because now that he's looking he can see far too clearly that beneath the stranger's scrotum he has two openings, and one seems to be a vagina.
Light underestimated the stranger's androgyny, he tells himself, and then swallows another surge of bile as he realises what this means, what this is about, why he's been brought here. Trying not to think about it, he gingerly reaches to feel what he's dealing with, and finds that the vibrators are in fact one vibrator, a double-ended dildo bent over and forced into both holes. His hand tightens a little too far as he takes hold of it, and he hears a crunch as part of the electronic hum in the room goes quiet.
The stranger sighs with relief as the dildo is withdrawn. Light throws it to the side, unwilling to risk stepping on it at any point, and hears a wet thud as it hits a wall.
"Thank you. Now my legs," the stranger directs, and Light obeys with the same cautious technique he used to remove the ballgag, then does the same with the stranger's arms without being asked.
He manages to brush the back of his hand over the stranger's wings as he does it, and feels a softness that he is convinced is feathers. "Are you one of the nephilim?" he breathes.
The stranger tenses - caution, paranoia - but answers honestly. "Yes. And yourself? A demonspawn?"
Light nods slightly, distracted by trying to figure out whether the stranger's - the nephil's - wings have been restrained. "These people round them - us - up," he explains, "to use to get our progenitors' favour."
"How?" the nephil asks sceptically.
"There's a potion that brings out the magically recessive traits. I think it was designed for when mundane animals were bred by magical ones, but it works - a little differently - on human hybrids." Light stares at the golden blaze of his claws, his hands, against the moonlight glow of the nephil's wings. "It can be - not controlled, but - directed. Normally, the people it's given to don't understand what's going on, so when they see visible signs they panic, try to force them away - and that just makes all the changes non-physical."
"But you knew," suspicion growing.
"I looked." That hasn't explained anything. "When I realised what I was, I looked online, and found a video. I don't know if it still exists. A survivor, who'd recognised the potion when they used it on him, realised what it meant - you can choose whether your body or your mind - your soul - is affected, but you can't be unaffected." Light has to hold his hands above the nephil, he's trembling, his words are disjointed and this is not what he is like but he can't stay calm, can't be mature, the words just keep spilling out. "I don't know what the light I see is, but I've seen - they used the potion on another demonspawn, I think they were testing whether it was a bad batch, and she - she went dark, like they are, but from what they said she still looks human."
The nephil pushes Light back slightly, giving himself enough room to sit up. "You must be strong-willed."
Light chokes on a bitter laugh. "I meant to let that happen to me." The nephil stops. Light doesn't. "I thought - I've gone my whole life with appearances being all that matter, as long I look perfect no one cares about what I'm hiding, and I was sure I could hide that change as easily as everything else - but then it was happening, and I couldn't -" he shivers, pulls in a deep breath. "It's terrifying when you're aware enough to realise that your mind, your self, is being altered. And I - I couldn't do it. I couldn't - accept -"
The nephil reaches out and presses his hand flat against Light's chest. Light takes it as an order to be quiet, and obeys, grateful to be silenced.
"I thought the potion was meant to enslave me," the nephil tells him, explains the effect. "I thought that being changed like this would inhibit their plans -"
Light winces, can't not, and the nephil notices. "The other spawn are useful because they still look human. I don't. So they've been trying to think of other uses for me, and came up with -" he feels sick, but he forces his emotions away and continues evenly, "breeding possible hosts for the demons to possess. The problem there is that there's no reason to think that a human woman could survive carrying that sort of foetus, so..." He can't continue, he can't meet the nephil's eyes, he feels like he should apologise for putting the thought in their heads that breeding him with a human would be worthless but it had seemed such a perfect escape when he said it, passing it off as efficiency instead of mercy, and now this stranger is paying for his glib words and he cannot even bring himself to admit that he's responsible.
"They want to breed us," the nephil repeats, dubious, more swayed by Light's horror than by any sense of truth in the idea. Light shrugs, uncomfortable.
"I can't think of any other reason they'd lay you out like that and bring me here."
Disgust flickers over the nephil's face, ripples through his colours, and Light can tell that he's re-evaluating the situation and finding Light's suggestion more likely than he had. "Then what good does untying me do either of us? There are cameras."
Light nods slightly. "I know, but I think we've been quiet enough that the microphones won't pick up what we said, and -" he forces the emotions away again, turns to the clear-headed calculation that has kept him alive this long - "they'll believe it if they think I wanted to humiliate you into agreeing to this, and it'll be easier for us to fake it if we can control the position."
The nephil grimaces but nods back at him. "I understand," he says, voice raised for their hypothetical audience, and Light hopes that the disgust and defeat in it are merely good acting.
He steps back and lets a cruel smirk curl his lips. "Then prove it."
The nephil drops to his knees, head level with Light's groin, wings raised to shield his actions from the cameras - at least, that's what Light assumes. He could simply be stretching them or holding them in the least uncomfortable position.
The movement brings Light's attention to his own groin, which he has been avoiding even more than the rest of his body. His arms, his legs, his torso, all seem mostly human still. The tail and wings are additions, not alterations. But this area - his cock is sheathed, like a dog's, pointing at his navel. His urethra is a small opening below its base, like a woman's. His testicles seem to have vanished entirely, and there is a slit that he refuses to explore - he might be as much a hermaphrodite as the nephil in front of him, now. Everything about these changes forces him to acknowledge that he is no longer human, and he is much more comfortable refusing to acknowledge the changes.
But that isn't an option now.
Unaware of Light's musings, the nephil brings his hands up to Light's sheathed cock and starts to stroke.
Light tenses, his tail coiling and lashing up instinctively to bind the nephil's wrists and yank his hands away. Frustration shines in the nephil's colours, and Light forces his tail to relax and let go because it's not as if it's hard to understand what the nephil is doing. To convince their unknown audience, this will need to be believable. Their audience must have seen that Light isn't aroused. Without that changing, there's far too much risk of them realising that Light and the nephil are faking congress.
The nephil is calculating something, himself. He suddenly leans forwards and starts using his mouth, behaving as though Light's actions were a rebuke for using his hands instead of an automatic revulsion to being touched like this - by someone who hates it and has no choice in the matter - at all.
Light manages, this time, to keep himself from rejecting the nephil's actions. It's harder, so much harder, to find an appropriate expression and wear it, play at being spoiled and haughty instead of sickened and horrified.
It's worse when he actually gets hard, which is just stupid of him because everything happening here is his fault in the first place, and the least he can do is try to help the nephil stay alive with as little trauma as possible. But it's not just how little either of them want this, it's not even the fact that he's being forced to feel himself growing hard, it's the discovery that his penis now has a baculum and the bizarre feeling of a bone pushing forwards and out as he becomes erect, the way that something he, like most boys, had become used to in his teens is suddenly as unfamiliar as his vision.
The nephil looks just as weirded-out by this as he is, and Light could possibly learn to be grateful for this new way of seeing what people are feeling because it seems much more accurate and detailed than body language and facial expressions.
He doesn't have much to be grateful for about his transformation. He isn't sure if he wants anything.
"I think that'll do," he says, projects for the microphones. The nephil pulls back, tucks his wings - Light guesses he's letting the cameras see that Light is hard, and if it weren't for the bone he'd be getting soft again at the thought but his baculum holds his penis stiff for the few seconds the nephil is showing it off.
They stare into each other's eyes (more or less) as the nephil stands up. Light wonders what the nephil is seeing.
The nephil steps forwards, awkwardly wrapping his arms around Light's shoulders as he grinds against him half-intentionally. Light tries to ignore the slick fluids from the nephil's earlier torture as he tugs one of the nephil's legs up, gets his arm under the nephil's knee to support him, shuts down his mind's speculation on whether the nephil was this flexible before his transformation.
The nephil's wings rise suddenly, curling defensively around their heads and upper bodies. Light thinks it's instinctive, but takes the idea and drops his own wings, stretching them to block the rest of their bodies from view. He's startled for a moment when the nephil doesn't stop grinding against him, but a quickly muttered question - "Do you know how our wings should move if we're doing this?" - has him joining in.
It doesn't take long before they find the problem with Light's idea of faking it. Put simply, his plan was based on his anatomy being closer to what he is used to, and they are finding that the baculum gets in the way, making his penis too stiff to press closer to his stomach, holding it too straight to be guided to the crease of the nephil's thigh, jabbing into the nephil's lower stomach and genitals -
"Just do it," the nephil growls, and slides himself onto Light's dick before Light lets himself realise what he means. Between the slickness and the spreading the dildo caused, Light's penis goes in easily, and the nephil actually sighs with relief at not having the sharp tip of the bone digging into his flesh any more.
It feels good, and Light hates it. Hates that this is his first time, hates that this is happening at all, hates that any part of himself might enjoy raping someone - because that's what this is, neither of them are willing participants - and hates their captors for forcing him into this.
The nephil brushes his fingers over Light's cheek, surprised. "You're crying."
Light turns his head away. "Sorry."
"It's -" the nephil changes position slightly and shudders, inner walls tightening on Light's cock as his wings close tighter around them both, and Light has to grit his teeth not to start thrusting because it feels all slick and weird and horribly good. "It's not - something you need to - apologise for," the nephil gets out. "Try - nngh - try thinking of the last time you did this instead."
"I haven't done this before," Light snarls back.
"I meant before they captured you," the nephil snaps, voice shuddering as he squirms in Light's arms.
"So do I."
The nephil's realisation of what Light is saying throws him off his rhythm, shock, shame, defensiveness scattering through his colours. He hadn't realised that Light was a virgin. Apparently it matters to him that this is Light's first sexual experience, though Light doubts having anything to compare it with could make this better.
Light doesn't want to admit that it matters to him that this is his first time. Having a stranger - his partner in this - react as if it should makes him feel worse, cold and shameful, but he shoves the feelings down and away and keeps going, ignoring the tears apparently pouring down his face (and how is he still seeing so clear, why can't he feel them on his cheeks, what has happened to his body?) and trying to retreat into basic physical awareness - don't think, just move.
It doesn't help. He's never been able to just shut his mind down; trying to ignore his emotions for the physical sensations doesn't help him ignore his shame, it just makes him more aware of how much he has to be ashamed of, how much some part of him likes this, likes the nephil's strong body and soft noises and tight wet heat -
Light never understood before why someone might hate themself.
He starts moving faster, harder, wanting to just get it over with. The nephil moves with him, matching him thrust for thrust, and Light gives up on his pride and buries his face in the nephil's hair, lets the brightness blind him the way darkness no longer can, and pretends that none of this is happening.
The nephil stiffens against him, grunting, and Light feels hot fluid spurt over his stomach - and that's it, he's lost, sobbing helplessly into the nephil's hair as he comes inside him.
He wrestles the emotions down as soon as he can and pulls out. Something occurs to him, and he dares to meet the nephil's eyes again. "I-I could probably convince them that I'm feeling possessive. If you want."
The nephil doesn't smile, doesn't relax, but Light can see the relief flowing through him at the suggestion. It's comforting to have proof that the nephil still thinks he's better than their captors. "It would probably be best. Can we escape?"
"Together, maybe," Light tells him. "I can't see the walls or ceilings here, but - I can see through them. Most of them, at least. We're underground."
The nephil half-hugs him with his wings, calculation and determination shining. "Then we'd best start planning."
Light smiles slightly, and tries not to think about what will come after they've escaped.