The beauty and the violence of that first
cruel slash of lightning - opening a wound across the glittering flesh of midnight and
freeing a summer rain warm and heady as life's blood - was wasted on the senseless form
below, naked but for storm-shattered moonglow and the rough ropes that secured and
supported him like puppet strings. It was the thunder's answering whipcrack that snapped
him back into consciousness: back where he could properly appreciate the sickening ache in
shoulders and back that only a few hours dangling from one's wrists can produce; the
intimately unwelcome caresses of rain across bare flesh; the wetness thicker than rain
that ran down his face, slid salt across his lips. Biting back a soft cry as his body
vehemently objected to this new motion, Seiji stood slowly, trying to remember exactly how
he'd ended up here . . .
Oh, yes.
Shin.
Gods above; the little shit did have
a backbone.
Seiji's lips quirked as he shook his
head, trying to rid his eyes of blood, rainwater and the horrid, stringy blond mess that
had once been his carefully kept hair. The expression revealed something between new
respect for Suiko's bearer and extreme annoyance with Kourin's for being so badly
surprised by an opponent he should have known so well. He had thought no more of Shin's
stealthy appearance in his bedroom than that the other man wished - as was his endlessly
irritating wont - to speak about something Seiji had done with one of the others of which
straight-laced little Shin disapproved. It was often necessary to remind him that Seiji's
"victims" didn't object to their treatment . . . not much . . . not after a
while.
Regardless, he took the fact that they
always came and came hard before he was finished as a sign that they enjoyed the
roughness of the ride as much as he did. He'd been about to explain this concept yet again
when Shin just leapt on him, never speaking a single word. Torrent had flipped Halo off
the bed in one astonishingly sudden, violent motion and slammed his forehead into his own
floor until the darkness grew wide and thick enough to swallow him up.
Though his gray-violet eyes shimmered
cold as opals, sharp with the remembrance of past indignities and the promise of future
vengeance, Seiji chuckled aloud at the sight of Shin leaning nonchalantly against the
twisted trunk of the very tree he was hanging from. He might have been lounging about in
their own living room but for the copious downpour that pasted his t-shirt and denim
cut-offs to the lean lines of his body. The auburn-haired man studied him as casually as
if trying to formulate a comment on some new outfit Seiji was modeling, but his body was
tense, his breath ragged, his jade-bright eyes wide and slightly glazed. Seiji could see
the pulse fluttering in his throat even in the darkness, could almost smell the ozone tang
of his fear - or was that just the storm?
"Let me down," he purred, his
tone dangerous enough to send anyone with sense scurrying to comply. "Now."
Shin cocked his head curiously, eyes
vaguely unfocused, as if only now noticing that Seiji was awake, that he was even there.
"Isn't that what he asked you?" he inquired softly.
A blank look that might almost have
been worried was followed by a subtle, covering smirk. "Now, Shin."
The warm rush of blood from his split
lip registered almost a full second before the blurringly fast swing of Shin's fist toward
him. Another blow, this one to his lower belly, would have doubled him over if the rope
manacles had given him enough play. As it was, his eyes squeezed shut, startled tears of
pain joining the rain on his cheeks as his knees buckled. Then a hand tangled in his
rain-matted blond hair, yanking his head back as Shin hissed into his face, "I asked
you a question, you son of a bitch! Isn't that what he asked you? Isn't that what
Touma asked, begged for while you took him? Left him hanging there when you
were done?"
Emerald met azure in a long, sparking
stare, harsh and violent and bright as the electric swordplay of the storm above their
heads. For an instant it seemed that neither of them would break the lock, neither of them
would give in. Shin was the one who finally turned away - though he did so with a
derisive, dismissive snort - gazing up into the depths and heights of midnight as if
seeking direction from the cloud-blanketed stars.
Seiji was stunned and almost incoherent
in his fury. Who was this little bitch to question his pleasures? To dismiss him, to turn
his back on Date Seiji? Halo lunged forward, kicking out hard with every intention of
doing major damage, snarling like a trapped animal. It was only then that he noticed the
ropes on his ankles too, securing him firmly to an exposed root. Yanked off balance and
unable to reestablish a foot hold on the rain-slick grass, he fell hard, a hoarse scream
tearing at his throat as the bonds on his wrists brought him up short, almost ripping his
shoulders from their sockets.
Shin stepped back, regarding him
coolly, as indifferent to his agony as to the rain, and Seiji realized with something akin
to panic that this was not the meek, gentle mediator he was used to dealing with. A
different beast entirely watched him struggle back to his feet, attempt to wipe away the
shameful pain-tears stinging his eyes with his bare arm, surreptitiously test the rough
knots chafing his wrists. No empathy, no sympathy in those eyes . . . only the vaguest
shivers of, what, anger? Excitement? Pity? Impotent rage clawed at him, wriggled white-hot
in his belly like a living flame, and he waited impatiently - but silently - for Shin to
come back within range.
"He's sleeping now," Shin
informed him evenly - his composure apparently recovered - circling ever so slowly but
staying prudently out of reach, "It took some doing; I finally had to crumble a
tranquilizer into his water glass while he wasn't looking, but at least he's getting some
rest."
"Is that what this
is," growled Seiji, "payback for Touma?"
"No," was the quiet response,
punctuated by another sharp thunder crack, "not really."
Seiji laughed drily, pivoting to keep
Shin in sight. "Then you've finally developed your very own kink, have you?"
The redhead didn't answer, just kept
circling, circling, patient as a vulture eyeing a particularly tasty morsel, waiting for
him to make a fatal mistake. Cursing softly, Seiji was forced to spin back the other way
when the rope finally wound taut. Shin didn't press the advantage, didn't do anything,
just circled, his eyes blank and round and glassy as jade marbles.
"What the fuck do you want,
then!?" Seiji finally shouted, fighting to keep his voice level. He would not panic,
refused to give his captor the satisfaction of seeing him squirm, but he knew even as it
slipped past his lips that Shin would notice; Seiji seldom swore - it wasn't proper -
unless he was severely rattled.
Shin paused, regarded him solemnly,
then turned to circle round the other way.
"After I got Touma to sleep, I was
just going to come talk to you, try again to explain to you what you're doing . . ."
circling
". . . but I heard a noise in
Ryou's room. I'd call it a voice but it wasn't anything coherent, anything sane . .
."
circling
". . . Shuu had already told me he
intended to stay with him; I expected to find Ryou having a nightmare in his arms . .
."
circling
" . . . but, no. Ryou was wide
awake, Seiji . . ."
circling
". . . wide awake and still having
nightmares of you and your fucking head-games."
Stopping beside Seiji - who was again
caught at the literal end of his rope but reluctant to correct it and thus make himself
even more vulnerable - Shin raised his hand in another swift motion his captive comrade
would be completely unable to evade. A glittering object all but materialized in front of
Halo's face, impaled on the tip of Shin's finger . . . a liquour bottle . . . an empty
liquour bottle, twin of the other he'd just now noticed shattered against the base of the
tree. Gently, teasingly, Shin bopped him on the nose with it, and the whole scenario
suddenly made a whole lot more sense.
"Drunken bondage in the woods: why
Shin, how very original." He couldn't resist the urge to test his ropes a little
more; no luck. "You've made your point, Torrent. Are we done now?"
"Oh, no," he replied, looking
suddenly and dangerously cheerful, "honey, we're just starting . . ."
The bottle caught him hard and high
across his already damaged temple, darkening Seiji's world around the edges and ruining
his concentration just long enough for Shin to drive him forward without a fight, pinning
him to the trunk of the tree with one foot in the small of his back. Slivers of glass
embedded in the rough bark bit into his bare chest; only an inspired last-second
contortion kept a lower, more vital portion of his anatomy unharmed, but he could swear
he'd felt one shard pierce his left nipple. Shin might be drunk - had to be extremely
drunk to have transformed himself so completely - but he was still nimble and quick as a
cat, strong as a Samurai Trooper, and had his "friend" at a sizeable
disadvantage.
"I'm sick of it," Shin
informed him reasonably, driving his sandaled foot a little deeper into the blond's kidney
as he leaned forward to speak into Seiji's ear. "I'm sick of it, Seiji."
Despite the already surreal atmosphere
of the whole encounter, that first stinging slap to his rain-soaked, embarrassingly
vulnerable right buttock was a total surprise. Seiji froze, though not out of pain - the
blow hadn't really hurt at all - but out of shock and a new, growing rage the likes of
which he hadn't felt for longer than he could remember. Shin was spanking him! The
self-appointed wet nurse of the five was spanking him like a disobedient child and there
wasn't a thing he could do about it.
"That's for Touma," whispered
Shin.
"What do you think you're doing,
you little shit!" Seiji swore harshly, incredulous. "Get the fuck off me!"
"I'm sick of cleaning up your
messes." Another blow, harder than the first; raindrops flew from the spreading pink
stain just under Halo's marble-pale flesh. "That's for Ryou."
With a seething howl, Seiji arched his
back in an attempt to throw Shin off balance, but his arms and legs were pulled back at a
painful angle by the too-short ropes - he had no leverage. Feeling his attempts, Shin
removed his foot only long enough to kick Seiji, hard and with toes pointed, in the inner
thigh, just below his genitals. That leg crumpled beneath him, numb and agonizing all at
once, and now Shin's sandal in his back was the only thing holding him up, driving him
into the tree hard enough to impair his breathing.
"I'm sick of putting the others
back together just so you can tear them apart again." A third slap, thunder-crack
loud in the midnight dark; liquour-tainted breath in his ear, humid and portentous.
"That's for Shuu."
Shin finally removed his foot,
replacing it with a gentle hand on Seiji's waist for no other apparent reason than to keep
him from trying to back up too quickly and slipping again. The kindness rang foul of his
previous actions and, somehow, made Halo more nervous than ever, kept him frozen barely an
inch from the trunk. Trying hard to hold onto dignity when his ass felt like a throbbing
red neon sign, mother naked, bleeding, gasping for air and helpless at the hands of
Torrent of all people, he growled over his shoulder as haughtily as he could manage,
"What? No spankies for you, Shin? No piece of my ass just for you?"
Shin laid his cool, damp forehead on
Seiji's shoulder, sighing softly. "Not a word I say gets through to you, does it? Not
a word." His murmured accusations sounded almost sad, as if he was facing up to an
unpleasant necessity. "If you can't see it, Seiji, and you refuse to listen . . .
well, then, gods help me, I'm just going to have to show you . . ."
"Wha . . ." Seiji began, but
that was as far as he got before Shin had him pinned to the tree again, this time with the
length of his own body. His fingers grasped the tree on either side of Seiji's head as he
sunk his teeth deep into the blond's shoulder. Panicking now in sudden earnest, Seiji
tried desperately to wriggle free, every muscle in his body clenching in a frantic attempt
to break free of his bonds and end this ridiculous adventure once and for all. The rough
bark and scattered glass bit deeply into him as he fought, painting his chest and thighs
with blood, but there was nowhere to escape to.
"It's your game, Seiji," Shin
informed him soberly. "You wrote the rules, so there's no point crying foul
now."
Torrent's voice was infinitely calm and
reasonable, donwright conversational, but the hand that snaked round to enclose Seiji's
flaccid sex was anything but gentle. Moaning softly, he arched his hips back, trying
instinctively to keep his penis away from the danger of the glass and jagged bark. Long
fingernails dug deep into his scrotum in response, drawing an involuntary yelp from their
terrified owner and neatly ceasing his attempts to escape.
"Shin, please . . ."
"Good boy; go ahead and beg
me." Soft words purred in his ear, soft parody of his own pillow talk but nowhere
near as unmanning as the whimper torn from his own throat as Shin's fist curled tight
around his penis and began to jerk it, as it began to harden involuntarily under these
harsh ministrations. "See? You can't hide how much you want it." Shin had
managed to free his own shaft already, damp silk flesh against Seiji's ass, and he was
very hard himself, unbelievably hard . . . how had he worked himself up to this? Biting
the back of Seiji's neck fiercely enough to draw blood, he positioned himself at Halo's
tightly clenched opening.
"No . . ." Seiji whispered, a
single tear slipping down his cheek. The words; his own words. "I'm sorry. I . .
."
"No. Yes. Words don't matter to
you; words don't reach you." The cut-offs still clung to Shin's hips, though
unbuttoned and unzipped, fastened by rainwater. That rainwater was the only lubrication
Seiji got as Torrent rammed himself in to the root in one powerful thrust. "This matters,"
he grunted as he slammed into Seiji again and again, "This will make you
understand."
Seiji's tortured scream was cut off by
another twist of his scrotum in Shin's fingers, then Shin's other hand was clamped across
his mouth and he just tried to focus on surviving this with his dignity intact. His own
body seemed determined to betray him. Even as Shin tore into him, violated him in a manner
he had never allowed before, never been forced into before, the pain melted into a heat he
knew only too well. That insistent hand on his sex pulled at him like Shin was trying to
pull his soul out, yank out his very core.
"I can . . . I can make you . . . want
this, Seiji," Shin panted, fucking him so hard even his testicles slapped
painfully hard into Seiji's backside, his hand frantic but purposeful. "I can make
you come . . . like there's no one else . . . no one in the world . . . but I can't . . .
can't make it right . . . this is what you do . . . this is what you do . . ."
it was like a mantra
". . . this is what you do . .
."
over and over as oh gods he could feel
the explosion coming the end of the world end of his world how could he do
". . . this . . ."
how could it happen this wasn't him
". . . this . . ."
was how he held control this power
". . . is . . ."
all he has in the world all he had all
he is
". . . what you . . ."
have in a sunstorm sunburn light
through your eyelids but it burns out so quickly what can you
". . .do . . ."
Halo came and he came hard, gave
up his essence and his control and himself in one shameful, sticky mess across Shin's
hand, the ropes, the bedamned tree, the rain-soaked earth, the storm itself. Behind him,
Shin stiffened, gave one last thrust deep, deep inside his lost friend's body and
surrendered to his orgasm and his tears all at once. The two collapsed against the tree,
sobbing in tandem, yet somehow still worlds apart.
After a long silent moment in the
darkness, the fading storm and the last few warm drops of rain, Shin staggered back to his
feet, helping Seiji to do the same. Seiji turned in response to his silent encouragement,
though still tied, allowing Shin to stroke his cheek with the back of one hand, wipe away
the tears and the rain and search his eyes for signs of a lesson learned, or whatever it
was he needed to see in orbs now dead as granite. The expression in Shin's own emerald
eyes was unreadable, tight and worried but somehow relieved, and Seiji had no idea if he'd
pleased him or done as expected. All he wanted was to escape and, if Shin wasn't yet
satisfied, it seemed he'd have no chance. Confused, he leaned into Shin's caress,
welcoming the closeness of Shin's lips so near his own and the other hand smoothing back
his hair.
"Please," he murmured, sobbed
into the almost kiss, "please, let me down."
"No, I'm sorry, Seiji." He
sounded genuinely concerned but oddly flat, wrung out. "The lesson isn't over
yet."
Shin dropped his hands to his sides,
still regarding him curiously, and Seiji suddenly realized that Torrent had just used his
hair as a towel to wipe away the last traces of his own seed. Fighting back a new and
blossoming fury - or was it panic again, such an unfamiliar sensation until now - Seiji
glared epically at him, biting his tongue so as not to give Shin any more reasons to
continue this bloody "lesson." He must not have been able to hide the hematite
flash of anger in his eyes, for Shin sighed heavily as he drew back.
"Greet the dawn," he said at
last. "Your dawn. Show it your true face. Maybe then you can start again."
A maiden aunt's chaste kiss to his
abused forehead and then Shin was gone, walking back to the house as the storm finally
broke above. Slow, charcoal clouds slid aside as if fleeing from Seiji's hoarse screams of
his tormentor's name, revealing a pit of flawed diamonds, dwindling in the glow of the
coming morning. The cries slowly lost coherency, faded into wrenching sobs and shrieks of
primal pain: the death rattle of shattered hubris, the birthing cry perhaps of a new
understanding.
Shin never turned around.
Slumping in his bonds, Seiji wept at
the feet of the sun.
