Gravitation - Yuki/Shu/Taki - NC17
TITLE: Not So Subtle Retribution
AUTHOR: Lauz/icedpoison/SugarNeko
RATING: NC17
PAIRING; Yuki Eiri Uesugi/Shuichi Shindou/Taki Aizawa
NOTES: Contains M/M rape, blackmail, and bad wordssss
SUMMARY: I'm not always so forgiving, Aizawa-san.
Oh god did his head hurt. It felt like someone had dropped something very heavy on it…either that, or he had been knocked the fuck out. Only thing was…he couldn’t remember either of those happening.
In fact, he couldn’t remember much of anything.
Taki groaned loudly, starting to slip his eyes open with painful difficulty. It wasn’t very dark, but dim. Wherever he was, it smelled dank and very much like motor oil and gasoline. There was an annoying buzz overhead, but the singer didn’t have the energy to glance upwards to find the source. Speaking of energy…why did he feel like all his limbs were made of lead?
Not only that…he vaguely felt that his shoulders were set back and his arms were behind him. But, try as he might, he couldn’t move them.
Opening his mouth to speak, he found that he couldn’t even form words other than the annoyed grunt that slipped free of his lips. Whatever was wrong with him seemed to affect all the muscles in his body.
“Ah, you’re awake, Aizawa-san.”
Half-lidded burgundy eyes shifted, despite the fact he could barely move his head. First, they caught obnoxiously bright, yellow shoes and that was when he realized he was on the ground. Albeit, he was sitting up…or so he assumed, but still, there was concrete under him.
Sluggishly, the man drew his eyes upwards, passing shorts and a two-tone t-shirt, before focusing on a mop of candy-pink hair. Without the use of his voice, the singer couldn’t vocalize all the curses he currently wanted to spew forth. Instead, he settled for a glare and a frown.
That didn’t seem to bother the younger singer as the boy continued to look down at Taki, “Everyone thinks I’m so forgiving…well, I’m not. You have no idea what you put me through.”
Taki followed that up with a look that clearly said, ‘like I fucking care’. The next thing…seemed so out of character, but dark eyes watched as Shuichi’s lips quirked into a small smirk. And that was when the singer felt fingers gripping the fine strands of his hair and abruptly yanking. Shutting his eyes tightly, he let a groan of pain. He hadn’t felt it, but another hand was curled around his front, deftly unbuttoning his slacks.
“So, Aizawa…have you ever been raped?”
Now that made wine-colored eyes snap open and promptly widen with something akin to fear. Harsh, golden orbs looked back at him: eerily calm. There had only been one other time when he had seen those eyes and they could either entrance or freeze you to the spot where you stood. This time they showed the latter.
Oh fuck, oh fuck…this had bad news written all over it.
And suddenly, without warning, a strong hand was pressing him, face-first, into the pavement; he could feel the harsh surface grating against his skin. Growling, the man searched for his voice once more and, when that failed, he tried to thrash his way from the other’s grip but to no avail, he just couldn’t move.
And he felt so helpless…so very helpless. It wasn’t a feeling he had often, actually, he hardly ever felt like this. This feeling was completely disturbing. As if reading his mind, Shuichi spoke up.
“Not a good feeling…is it Aizawa-san? Knowing that you can do nothing to prevent the inevitable. Just wait, it gets worse.”
Burgundy eyes widened again. There were fingers pressing against him…dry fingers. Dread settled heavily in his stomach. They were…he was really…oh shit.
No, no no!
Even though his brain was sending the messages, his muscles weren’t receiving them. It was then that he realized what they had given him. A drug that could easily make him loose control over everything. And, if he was right, he might not remember this in the morning. While his other body parts refused to work, he could slowly feel his voice starting to come through: thick and hoarse.
“D-d-date…r-rape…” he whispered.
“Ah, so he finally figures it out,” the other singer said, reaching into his pants pocket to fish out the digital camera. “It was a mixture, actually. We put the drug in your drink, but we also used chloroform.”
“F-f-fuck,” he rasped.
The blonde was now forcing one finger up and inside. How he managed this without any lubrication was beyond Taki’s understanding at the moment. All he knew was that this was going to hurt.
Yuki really wasn’t wasting any time at all, because right after the first finger, the second promptly followed. Taki knew that this wasn’t supposed to be like all those other times he’d been fucked; this was just what they had called it ]rape. And the little sane portion of his mind told him to keep fighting, to keep trying to get control of himself…but how could he fight off the effects of a debilitating drug?
The sudden, splitting pain cut deeply through his thoughts and he cried out in agony. It hurt, oh god did it really hurt; the terribly sickening burn and stretch that, given any other situation, wouldn’t have been so bad.
The pain radiated through his entire body, starting at the point of entry and flowing into his fingers and toes, just burning all his nerve endings. It made his voice catch and hot tears gather in the corners of tightly closed eyes.
The singer wanted to crawl away, wanted to thrash and fight back…but he just couldn’t. The tears of pain finally hit their limit and thusly started slipping down his steadily flushed cheeks only made worse by his loss of breath as it stopped in the back of his throat.
Now, of course, that was the last thing that the other’s wanted, so Yuki took it upon himself to stop and sit there for a few seconds. When Taki’s breath let out in one hot rush the author smirked and slid back, reveling in the pained whine. Of course, when he thrust forward the singer let out a near-scream into the concrete, a fresh row of tears dripping to the cold floor.
“Poor baby,” he heard from behind him. “Hurts, doesn’t it?”
Who knew that these two were like this? The slender male hadn’t expected retaliation in this form, but payback was a harsh bitch and karma was always willing to fuck you over. In the back of his sore mind, Taki knew now that this -and what he had done-was so severely wrong. Something like this could break a person and, he realized, this was just exactly what those two had planned.
No…no! Fuck them! He wasn’t that weak, he could make it through this without sobbing, without making noise. He would show those fuckers that he was above this form of retribution.
So, much to the duo’s dismay, Aizawa went terribly silent, eyes still closed and teeth grit and grinding so hard that was all he heard in his head. Yuki was still fucking him with such disregard…and it still hurt, it was still tearing him apart, metaphorically speaking, but he wouldn’t give them that kind of satisfaction.
“Ah ah, and what do we have here?”
Taki’s eyes widened in horror, tugging at his trapped hands, finding that his muscles were just starting to come back into power. With the mild recovery he was making from the restricting drug, the singer shook his head languidly, though internally, he was frantic. When the large hand curled around the portion of his anatomy that was suddenly working against him, Taki went stock-still.
Oh god..
Another hand pressed against the expanse of the smaller male’s chest, splaying across the flesh before pushing upwards. This brought Taki’s body into an upright, kneeling position. He shut his eyes again; dipping his head so that fluffed up bangs hid his expression from the bright eyes that now stared at him. And the other’s chuckle was unnerving. This was such bad news.
“So, what part of this is getting you off, Aizawa-san? My cock…or the fact that he’s watching you?”
Taki let out a feral growl of, “Fuck you!”
The smaller singer’s calm voice made Aizawa tense, “You aren’t supposed to be enjoying this, Aizawa-san.”
“The blackmail will be better if he enjoys it.”
And, in truth, he really, really wasn’t enjoying it…there was no sufficient reason as to why he was hard. But, staying true to his earlier intentions, Taki was silent from there on in, even as the blonde brushed a terribly sensitive spot inside, making his hips buck. No, this hurt…why the fuck was he acting like this! He didn’t like pain, didn’t want any of this! The singer was just so confused.
When the larger hand, once more, traveled over his skin, Taki’s breath froze and his dark eyes were wide and unseeing, looking off towards the other’s shoes. No. He tried to tug forward, but since the drug was still working, he only twitched a bit in the larger man’s grasp…pressing himself toward the offending hand. And that got the wrong message across as a very dark chuckle resounded against the skin of his shoulder.
“Keep taking pictures.”
Against himself, he arched but shook his head as one hand curled around his heated length. Brows furrowing in disgrace, Taki rolled his shoulders weakly and kept his head down, even as his hips pushed forward. He silently wondered what the point of trying to stay strong was, as it was clearly failing. Eerily reading his thoughts, the novelist took the other hand and snapped his head up, causing a painful angle of his spine. Harsh words were being whispered into his ear, though he barely heard them over the sudden camera click. And fuck, he really wanted to let his head fall down again. Two fingers played across his lips as Yuki spoke and, in the next instant, they forced their way into his mouth.
No, he wasn’t going to break…he…wasn’t…
The moan that abruptly sounded past the larger’s fingers was just everything that the tag-team needed. Yuki’s hand was still moving in a steady pace over the other’s cock and he was still moving into him at a rather hard and fast rhythm. It was going to become too much too soon. And he still didn’t want it. Tears congregated in his eyes again at the cruel way his entire body betrayed him. The ultimate betrayal.
“You’re on our playing field Aizawa…we aren’t on yours.”
At that moment, suddenly soft fingers pressed against his slick hips, causing burgundy eyes to fly open in clear shock. An uncharacteristically blank face met him with bright purple eyes and blindingly pink hair. And all the boy did was run his slender fingers up his rival’s sides before Taki was arching, eyes shut so tightly that lights danced in front of the dark.
His harsh scream bounced against the darkened walls and came back to hit his sensitive ears.
The lithe figure suddenly shot up, nails digging securely into the thick black comforter. His cat scattered and ran from the room, bell jingling the entire way. The fish tank filter hummed and was the brightness in the dark of his bedroom.
Terrified? Yes he fucking was. The man could feel his heart threatening to jump free from his rib cage and fly away. Not to mention, the absolutely cold sweat he had going was just the icing on the cake.
Oh god why…why would he dream something like that?
Pressing his trembling hand to his head, Taki shook, breath coming in short, scared pants. Sachiko returned a few seconds later, timidly hopping onto the bed and sitting at the end, bright eyes watching her master curiously. Taki felt very sick, for many reasons, but mostly sick at himself. What was his subconscious trying to say?
Reaching out to fumble for the light-switch to the lamp on his bedside table his fingers skimmed over something that wasn’t supposed to be there. Blinking a few times, Taki leaned over more, turning the small light on and looking towards the foreign object.
And that was when his stomach dropped and every blood cell in his body turned to ice.
On the table rest and small black tube and, attached to said tube, was a note. A note written on deceptively sweet pink paper that read: We aren’t like you. Quaking fingers took hold of the container and the note, ripping the latter off and pressing off the lid.
Dropping the contents to his hand, Taki sat there, numbly staring at the used roll of film.
AUTHOR: Lauz/icedpoison/SugarNeko
RATING: NC17
PAIRING; Yuki Eiri Uesugi/Shuichi Shindou/Taki Aizawa
NOTES: Contains M/M rape, blackmail, and bad wordssss
SUMMARY: I'm not always so forgiving, Aizawa-san.
Oh god did his head hurt. It felt like someone had dropped something very heavy on it…either that, or he had been knocked the fuck out. Only thing was…he couldn’t remember either of those happening.
In fact, he couldn’t remember much of anything.
Taki groaned loudly, starting to slip his eyes open with painful difficulty. It wasn’t very dark, but dim. Wherever he was, it smelled dank and very much like motor oil and gasoline. There was an annoying buzz overhead, but the singer didn’t have the energy to glance upwards to find the source. Speaking of energy…why did he feel like all his limbs were made of lead?
Not only that…he vaguely felt that his shoulders were set back and his arms were behind him. But, try as he might, he couldn’t move them.
Opening his mouth to speak, he found that he couldn’t even form words other than the annoyed grunt that slipped free of his lips. Whatever was wrong with him seemed to affect all the muscles in his body.
“Ah, you’re awake, Aizawa-san.”
Half-lidded burgundy eyes shifted, despite the fact he could barely move his head. First, they caught obnoxiously bright, yellow shoes and that was when he realized he was on the ground. Albeit, he was sitting up…or so he assumed, but still, there was concrete under him.
Sluggishly, the man drew his eyes upwards, passing shorts and a two-tone t-shirt, before focusing on a mop of candy-pink hair. Without the use of his voice, the singer couldn’t vocalize all the curses he currently wanted to spew forth. Instead, he settled for a glare and a frown.
That didn’t seem to bother the younger singer as the boy continued to look down at Taki, “Everyone thinks I’m so forgiving…well, I’m not. You have no idea what you put me through.”
Taki followed that up with a look that clearly said, ‘like I fucking care’. The next thing…seemed so out of character, but dark eyes watched as Shuichi’s lips quirked into a small smirk. And that was when the singer felt fingers gripping the fine strands of his hair and abruptly yanking. Shutting his eyes tightly, he let a groan of pain. He hadn’t felt it, but another hand was curled around his front, deftly unbuttoning his slacks.
“So, Aizawa…have you ever been raped?”
Now that made wine-colored eyes snap open and promptly widen with something akin to fear. Harsh, golden orbs looked back at him: eerily calm. There had only been one other time when he had seen those eyes and they could either entrance or freeze you to the spot where you stood. This time they showed the latter.
Oh fuck, oh fuck…this had bad news written all over it.
And suddenly, without warning, a strong hand was pressing him, face-first, into the pavement; he could feel the harsh surface grating against his skin. Growling, the man searched for his voice once more and, when that failed, he tried to thrash his way from the other’s grip but to no avail, he just couldn’t move.
And he felt so helpless…so very helpless. It wasn’t a feeling he had often, actually, he hardly ever felt like this. This feeling was completely disturbing. As if reading his mind, Shuichi spoke up.
“Not a good feeling…is it Aizawa-san? Knowing that you can do nothing to prevent the inevitable. Just wait, it gets worse.”
Burgundy eyes widened again. There were fingers pressing against him…dry fingers. Dread settled heavily in his stomach. They were…he was really…oh shit.
No, no no!
Even though his brain was sending the messages, his muscles weren’t receiving them. It was then that he realized what they had given him. A drug that could easily make him loose control over everything. And, if he was right, he might not remember this in the morning. While his other body parts refused to work, he could slowly feel his voice starting to come through: thick and hoarse.
“D-d-date…r-rape…” he whispered.
“Ah, so he finally figures it out,” the other singer said, reaching into his pants pocket to fish out the digital camera. “It was a mixture, actually. We put the drug in your drink, but we also used chloroform.”
“F-f-fuck,” he rasped.
The blonde was now forcing one finger up and inside. How he managed this without any lubrication was beyond Taki’s understanding at the moment. All he knew was that this was going to hurt.
Yuki really wasn’t wasting any time at all, because right after the first finger, the second promptly followed. Taki knew that this wasn’t supposed to be like all those other times he’d been fucked; this was just what they had called it ]rape. And the little sane portion of his mind told him to keep fighting, to keep trying to get control of himself…but how could he fight off the effects of a debilitating drug?
The sudden, splitting pain cut deeply through his thoughts and he cried out in agony. It hurt, oh god did it really hurt; the terribly sickening burn and stretch that, given any other situation, wouldn’t have been so bad.
The pain radiated through his entire body, starting at the point of entry and flowing into his fingers and toes, just burning all his nerve endings. It made his voice catch and hot tears gather in the corners of tightly closed eyes.
The singer wanted to crawl away, wanted to thrash and fight back…but he just couldn’t. The tears of pain finally hit their limit and thusly started slipping down his steadily flushed cheeks only made worse by his loss of breath as it stopped in the back of his throat.
Now, of course, that was the last thing that the other’s wanted, so Yuki took it upon himself to stop and sit there for a few seconds. When Taki’s breath let out in one hot rush the author smirked and slid back, reveling in the pained whine. Of course, when he thrust forward the singer let out a near-scream into the concrete, a fresh row of tears dripping to the cold floor.
“Poor baby,” he heard from behind him. “Hurts, doesn’t it?”
Who knew that these two were like this? The slender male hadn’t expected retaliation in this form, but payback was a harsh bitch and karma was always willing to fuck you over. In the back of his sore mind, Taki knew now that this -and what he had done-was so severely wrong. Something like this could break a person and, he realized, this was just exactly what those two had planned.
No…no! Fuck them! He wasn’t that weak, he could make it through this without sobbing, without making noise. He would show those fuckers that he was above this form of retribution.
So, much to the duo’s dismay, Aizawa went terribly silent, eyes still closed and teeth grit and grinding so hard that was all he heard in his head. Yuki was still fucking him with such disregard…and it still hurt, it was still tearing him apart, metaphorically speaking, but he wouldn’t give them that kind of satisfaction.
“Ah ah, and what do we have here?”
Taki’s eyes widened in horror, tugging at his trapped hands, finding that his muscles were just starting to come back into power. With the mild recovery he was making from the restricting drug, the singer shook his head languidly, though internally, he was frantic. When the large hand curled around the portion of his anatomy that was suddenly working against him, Taki went stock-still.
Oh god..
Another hand pressed against the expanse of the smaller male’s chest, splaying across the flesh before pushing upwards. This brought Taki’s body into an upright, kneeling position. He shut his eyes again; dipping his head so that fluffed up bangs hid his expression from the bright eyes that now stared at him. And the other’s chuckle was unnerving. This was such bad news.
“So, what part of this is getting you off, Aizawa-san? My cock…or the fact that he’s watching you?”
Taki let out a feral growl of, “Fuck you!”
The smaller singer’s calm voice made Aizawa tense, “You aren’t supposed to be enjoying this, Aizawa-san.”
“The blackmail will be better if he enjoys it.”
And, in truth, he really, really wasn’t enjoying it…there was no sufficient reason as to why he was hard. But, staying true to his earlier intentions, Taki was silent from there on in, even as the blonde brushed a terribly sensitive spot inside, making his hips buck. No, this hurt…why the fuck was he acting like this! He didn’t like pain, didn’t want any of this! The singer was just so confused.
When the larger hand, once more, traveled over his skin, Taki’s breath froze and his dark eyes were wide and unseeing, looking off towards the other’s shoes. No. He tried to tug forward, but since the drug was still working, he only twitched a bit in the larger man’s grasp…pressing himself toward the offending hand. And that got the wrong message across as a very dark chuckle resounded against the skin of his shoulder.
“Keep taking pictures.”
Against himself, he arched but shook his head as one hand curled around his heated length. Brows furrowing in disgrace, Taki rolled his shoulders weakly and kept his head down, even as his hips pushed forward. He silently wondered what the point of trying to stay strong was, as it was clearly failing. Eerily reading his thoughts, the novelist took the other hand and snapped his head up, causing a painful angle of his spine. Harsh words were being whispered into his ear, though he barely heard them over the sudden camera click. And fuck, he really wanted to let his head fall down again. Two fingers played across his lips as Yuki spoke and, in the next instant, they forced their way into his mouth.
No, he wasn’t going to break…he…wasn’t…
The moan that abruptly sounded past the larger’s fingers was just everything that the tag-team needed. Yuki’s hand was still moving in a steady pace over the other’s cock and he was still moving into him at a rather hard and fast rhythm. It was going to become too much too soon. And he still didn’t want it. Tears congregated in his eyes again at the cruel way his entire body betrayed him. The ultimate betrayal.
“You’re on our playing field Aizawa…we aren’t on yours.”
At that moment, suddenly soft fingers pressed against his slick hips, causing burgundy eyes to fly open in clear shock. An uncharacteristically blank face met him with bright purple eyes and blindingly pink hair. And all the boy did was run his slender fingers up his rival’s sides before Taki was arching, eyes shut so tightly that lights danced in front of the dark.
His harsh scream bounced against the darkened walls and came back to hit his sensitive ears.
The lithe figure suddenly shot up, nails digging securely into the thick black comforter. His cat scattered and ran from the room, bell jingling the entire way. The fish tank filter hummed and was the brightness in the dark of his bedroom.
Terrified? Yes he fucking was. The man could feel his heart threatening to jump free from his rib cage and fly away. Not to mention, the absolutely cold sweat he had going was just the icing on the cake.
Oh god why…why would he dream something like that?
Pressing his trembling hand to his head, Taki shook, breath coming in short, scared pants. Sachiko returned a few seconds later, timidly hopping onto the bed and sitting at the end, bright eyes watching her master curiously. Taki felt very sick, for many reasons, but mostly sick at himself. What was his subconscious trying to say?
Reaching out to fumble for the light-switch to the lamp on his bedside table his fingers skimmed over something that wasn’t supposed to be there. Blinking a few times, Taki leaned over more, turning the small light on and looking towards the foreign object.
And that was when his stomach dropped and every blood cell in his body turned to ice.
On the table rest and small black tube and, attached to said tube, was a note. A note written on deceptively sweet pink paper that read: We aren’t like you. Quaking fingers took hold of the container and the note, ripping the latter off and pressing off the lid.
Dropping the contents to his hand, Taki sat there, numbly staring at the used roll of film.