The Crucible

He didn’t want to open his eyes.

Dino had already left, cellphone pressed against his ear, mumbling about something, captives, drugs, events unfolding that Eiji wanted no part of. Still though, the scent of him lingered in the air, the thickness of cigar smoke, the spiciness of his cologne, the musk of sex.

It’s going to be fine, his brain supplied. It’s going to be alright.

The mattress shifted under him for a moment, then evened out again as Yut-lung stood.

Eiji heard the sound of him dressing quickly, then feet padding across the floor over to the other side of the bed. A finger poked Eiji in the chest.

“Pathetic,” Yut-lung muttered.

Eiji cracked an eye open to look at the boy.

He stood there silent, regarding Eiji as one who was considering the absolute uselessness of broken toy—fixable, but probably not worth the effort.

Yut-lung traced a path down Eiji’s chest, down to the soft, thin sheet that still covered him. He paused there, fingers brushing the fabric, pushing it ever so slightly lower, then scoffed and turned from the bed, stepping over to the small vanity that sat in the corner and sitting to re braid his hair.

Eiji tried to control his breathing. His hands were still cuffed above his head, he was still naked, the sheet was barely covering him at all now. The faint brush of wiry hairs from his groin was visible, and his breath caught with that information, making it impossible to suck in air again.

“Calm down, rabbit,” Yut-lung said from the corner. “They haven’t even done anything to you yet.”

Eiji closed his eyes again and tried to ignore the way his chest hurt his strangled exhalations. He sucked in a long breath of air, then slowly let it out, counting to ten. Then he did it again, and again, and again, trying to relax. “Does it…” he managed, then stopped, his voice tangling in his throat. “Does it hurt?” he managed.

There was a silence as Yut-lung considered his words. “I suppose,” he finally said. “It just is. I wouldn’t worry yourself too much about it. You’re fucked at this point, so I’d just relax while you can.”

Eiji turned his head against the pillow then, straining to watch. Yut-lung was looking at him, a feral, animalistic smile on his face. He looked all the world as if he were about to hiss.

With a flick of his braid over his shoulder, Yut-lung stood, and walked to the locked door. He drew a pin from his hair, then set to working the lock, clicking it open in only a few seconds. “Have fun, rabbit,” he called over his shoulder with a wink.

“Please,” Eiji said, struggling then, pulling at his wrists and flinching at the rub of the cuffs against the already scraped skin. “Yue, please, don’t leave me here, please—”

The door closed with a firm click as it locked once more.

***

He didn’t know how long it had been.

The room was windowless and barren except for the closet, the comfortable bed, and the small vanity. To his right was the door to the outside hallway. Directly in front of him was another door, immaculate and ornate. The winding curls of wood formed images in the grain—snakes, and lions, and bears. It was terrifying, and though Eiji was certain that it too was locked, there was something about it that whispered of darkness, some hollowed reflection behind the eyes of the shadow animals that felt as if he were being watched, being judged.

He didn’t want to go anywhere near it.

As he lay he grew cold, goosebumps freckling his arms and legs. The longer he waited there, alone, in complete silence, the more crazy with what was to come he became. He didn’t know where Shorter was, only that they’d been pulled apart, unwillingly separated. Shorter had looked terrified, screaming Eiji’s name as they pulled him around the corner.

Without him, Eiji was nothing. Without Ash he was even worse. He couldn’t fight. Couldn’t struggle, couldn’t resist, couldn’t even bring himself to speak. Golzine had entered the room and Eiji could do nothing but watch as he fucked Yue, and tremble at what might be in store.

He was worthless.

He pulled at the cuffs again, harder, then harder still, then began to shout. “Shorter!” he yelled, body twisting back and forth. “Yue, please, Yue—” tears were coming now, and his breath was coming in sharp gasps of panic. His wrists were slippery with blood as he pulled, cuffs finally wearing into skin far enough to cut. He could feel it warm and thick, trickling down his forearms, and still he fought, pulling and gasping and furiously terrified.

“Ash!”

The name died on his lips, falling like lead. He didn’t want to think about Ash. He didn’t want to think about how he’d been in this position before, how he’d been brave, how he’d been kept for years, tortured and raped and degraded and still he rose to conquer it.

Eiji couldn’t do that.

He was too scared, he was nauseous with it. He just wanted to go home, he didn’t want to be here—

The sheet slipped from his body entirely with his thrashing and he froze. “No,” he whispered. “No…no…no, no, no, no—” they built within him, louder and louder until he was shouting. His cock lay soft between his legs, shriveled and cold and he was exposed now entirely, and he couldn’t do this, he couldn’t take it, “no, no, no—”

The animal door swung open and Eiji froze.

“What do we have here?” a man asked, laughter bubbling at the end of the question.

Eiji couldn’t stop the way his chest was trembling with every breath, he couldn’t wipe at the tear tracks on his face.

The man walked over to him, four others following him through the door, and Eiji didn’t know where to look, didn’t know who to watch, didn’t know who the leader was, who the dangerous one was.

“Pathetic,” Yue had said, and he was right.

A sob formed deep within his throat but he pressed his lips closed, refusing to give them the satisfaction.

“Marvin,” the first man said, holding out a hand. “Oh. How terribly sad, my fault,” he apologized, bringing it back. “Looks as though you won’t be shaking hands.” He chucked at this, as though he were supremely clever.

Eiji wanted to kick him in the balls.

“A nice package Golzine has left us, eh?” Marvin asked, still not looking away from Eiji though he addressed the other men in the room. He reached out a hand then and touched Eiji’s cheek, letting a finger dip through the tears and wipe them.

Eiji tried to jerk his head away but Marvin followed with his hand. He grabbed a fistful of Eiji’s hair and yanked his head back, forcing their gaze to meet.

“I hope you aren’t planning on being difficult,” he whispered.

Eiji tried to turn his head again, but Marvin yanked it right back into place.

“You’re scared,” he said. “Terrified, even.”

Eiji’s heart was rabbiting in his chest. He tried to swallow, but it was thick with fear, chalky against the back of his throat. Marvin yanked his head even further back and then it was painful to swallow. He could feel the way his throat bobbed anxiously, trying to catch up.

“Not really my type,” Marvin said. “Fucking Jap.”

The men behind him laughed and agreed and Eiji felt his face go hot with humiliation. He closed his eyes to it, trying to breath in colors, trying to make the present fuzz to the back of his consciousness.

Thwack.

Eiji yelped, eyes flying open at the backhand to his cheek. It stung, bringing more tears to his eyes.

“Keep your eyes open, you fucking shit,” Marvin said, still smiling.

He let his hand drop further then, trailing down Eiji’s neck to his chest. He circled a nipple once, then bend down over Eiji and licked a stripe up his stomach.

“Stop,” Eiji whispered.

Marvin looked up at him. “What did you just say?”

Eiji shook his head as much as he could with the hand still holding him in place. He pressed his lips shut, and tried to calm the full body tremors that were shaking through him.

Marvin held a hand out behind him and one of the men stepped forward, dropping something into it. Eiji couldn’t see, he didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know if he should answer—

There was a loud click, and then the metal barrel of a gun was pressed to his temple. “What. Did. You. Say?” Marvin said. The smile was gone now, in it’s place a feral, growling smirk that cut across his face.

“I’m…” Eiji tried to swallow and couldn’t. “I’m sorry,” he tried. His voice was weak in his ears, quaking and full of fear.

There was another click—the safety disengaging. Marvin tapped the pistol against Eiji’s temple gently. “Sorry for what?” he asked.

His voice was strong. Masculine. Confident and self assured and so, so, so in control. Eiji’s lower lip began to tremble. “I’m sorry…” he said again, breath quickening, eyes beginning to water.

Marvin hauled back then came down hard with the butt of the pistol on Eiji’s cheek. He heard a crack, then there was nothing but red hot pain, fiery and impossible and still building with insane pressure. Somewhere, there was a loud keening moan and he didn’t know who it was, he didn’t know what was happening. Everything was fuzzy, he was dizzy with pain, and the room flashed to black for a few long moments, then he was back in his body and the keening sound was him, was pathetically him. He was breathing fast and heavy but every inhale burned with hurt. His cheek was already swelling, pushing his left eye closed.

The men were laughing.

It was awful laughter, laughter of the sick, of the damned. He could hear them talking amongst one another, excitedly plotting, deciding who was going to get to fuck him first, and then the pain crested as he swallowed, suddenly too much to handle. Nausea roiled in his gut and he turned his head to the side and puked.

“Disgusting,” Marvin said.

The mattress dipped as the man crawled on top of Eiji, swinging a leg over and then sitting on his thighs, pinning him to the mattress.

He was blurry in Eiji’s sight now, fading in and out of his vision, and as the dizziness took over, the nausea grew again. “I’m—” Eiji tried, then he gagged again, trying not to puke all over himself.

“You’re a fucking mess,” Marvin said, but as he stroked Eiji’s chest again with the fat pads of his fingers, he smiled. “I’m going to enjoy training you.”

“Training?” Eiji whispered the question, his lips moving slowly, carefully, trying not jar his broken cheek.

Another man grabbed at his hair and pulled his head up as far as it was able to go. “Hey baby,” he said, crooning in Eiji’s face.

His teeth were yellow and tobacco stained, and his breath smelt of garlic. Eiji gasped in his grip. His cheekbone felt as though it were shifting with every movement, and his left eye was completely swollen shut now. He could barely see anything.

“Dino likes his pets to behave,” the man said. “We’re here to break you in.”

The cuffs above Eiji’s head were clinking against the metal bed frame and he realized he was starting to shake. There were hands all over his body, between his legs, at his throat, at his chest and legs and arms, and he couldn’t see them all—his peripheral vision was gone—and this was almost more terrifying than anything else. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t see who was touching him, he didn’t know where to look, he didn’t know how to escape, he didn’t understand how to be anything but completely helpless.

I’m sorry, Ash, he thought.

A hand grabbed his chin harshly, and Eiji cried out at the pain in his cheek.

“Open up, kitten,” someone said.

Eiji shook his head, pressing his lips together as tightly as he could. His chest was heaving with terror. Fingers pushed against his mouth, against his jawbone, trying to find entrance. Someone pinched his nose closed then, and Eiji tried to hold out, tried not to give in, but he needed air, he needed to breath.

He opened his mouth and something bitter fell in—a pill, a tablet, something that was already beginning to dissolve. “Fuck you,” he cried, jerking his head from their grasp and trying to spit. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you—”

They grabbed him and held his jaw shut. Someone was rubbing circles at his Adam’s apple, triggering his swallowing reflex, and he couldn’t help it, the pill was already almost completely dissolved, he had to swallow and he did, tears falling and a horrible snuffling noise coming from his nose.

“There we go,” Marvin said.

He hadn’t moved from Eiji’s thighs, and he started to rock then, against Eiji’s cock. He reached down and unbuttoned, and his thick cock burst free, already enormously hard. He stroked himself a few times, rocking back on Eiji.

“Don’t,” Eiji tried to say. The hands were still at his throat, at his hair, at his chest. He wanted to cry, then he was crying, then he wanted to stop crying, he wanted this to end, he didn’t want to be here.

“Fuck,” Marvin muttered. His cock was already glistening with pre-cum.

Eiji closed his good eye as tightly as he could.

“Don’t worry, kitten,” Marvin said sweetly. “We’re not ready to fuck you quite yet. Still have a lot of fun to come first.” He leaned over Eiji, his belly flush against Eiji’s chest.

Eiji felt as though he were suffocating, unable to breathe, unable to move, but then there was a click of the handcuffs, and his wrists fell free.

“There we go,” Marvin said.

Eiji tried to move, tried to throw a punch. His movements were slow and languid, fuzzing at the edges. He couldn’t lift his arm. “What…” he said, swallowing. “What did you do?” Every syllable was work to force past swollen lips.

“Ehh…give it a few minutes still,” Marvin said. “I think you’re going to enjoy this next part.”

They made him walk from the room, laughing as he stumbled and pushing him back and forth between each other. The drugs were thick in his system now—Eiji felt as though he were swimming through viscous mud. His legs barely held him, his arms were useless, and through it all there was burning, jagged pain in his cheek. With every jostle between the men, his stomach roiled, and he desperately tried not to puke all over the floor.

“Come on, you fucking Jap,” one of them yelled, and laughter burst in the air at the racist epithet.

Eiji stumbled again, falling to his hands and knees, only to have Marvin roughly haul him up and push him forward once more.

He felt like a doll, like a puppet, like he’d never gain control of his limbs again. He could feel his limp cock dangling uselessly between his legs, and every now and again someone would paw at it, would press a hand to his chest, or press fingers deep in his mouth.

He wanted to bite down.

He wanted to scream and run.

He wanted to turn to the man holding a gun on him, press his forehead against the barrel and mutter “fucking do it, you coward.”

He was too afraid of everything though—too pathetic, too terrified—and instead he watched the floor, unable to meet anyone’s eyes, unable to ignore the flushing spread of humiliation that heated at his neck and cheeks.

Eventually, though it seemed like hours, they reached their destination: a room just down the hallway from the small bedroom he’d been tied up in. They pushed him through the doors and then up against a mirror. Eiji struggled for only a moment, but then Marvin was behind him, thick belly against his back, hard cock pressing against his legs. Even though Marvin had tucked himself back into his khaki dress pants, this terrified Eiji more than he could say. The fact that someone could get hard, could be this turned on from this amount of violence was sickening. He caught a glimpse of himself once—the entire right side of his face was swollen beyond recognition, and the rest of him looked small, looked terrified, looked impossibly young. He looked back to the floor quickly, unable to stomach the pathetic creature.

Marvin placed a hand at the back of Eiji’s neck and stroked along his hairline, up to the lobe of his ear, then down to his shoulder, finally reaching around and wrapping his meaty hand around Eiji’s neck.

“Watch,” he whispered.

Eiji closed his eyes tightly, but even this was not allowed. Marvin squeezed tightly, and Eiji’s eyes flew open again as he struggled for breath. “Don’t,” he said, hands coming up to paw at Marvin’s wrist. “Stop, I can’t, I can’t—”

Marvin loosened his grip and Eiji struggled to pull in a full breath, coughing and retching at the mirror.

“I said watch, you little shit,” Marvin said, then he fisted a hand at Eiji’s hair, pulled his head back, then smacked it into the glass.

Eiji saw fireworks, he saw every color of the rainbow, and then he saw white, exploding, hot pain flashing in his head. A sticky warmth bloomed at his temple, and then it started to drip down his cheek, to his chin, drip, drip, drip, leaving heavy wet drops of dark crimson on his bare chest. His cheek throbbed with it, and his eyes began to water uncontrollably. “I’m sorry,” he gasped, trying to reach for his head, trying to staunch the flow of blood.

Marvin grabbed at his hand and forced his arm up behind his back—into control position.

Eiji’s shoulder burned with it, and he found he couldn’t move an inch without a horrific flash of pain at the apex of his shoulder and back. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again. The words were choked, small and helpless.

Then the mirror started to clear.

It was double sided—a window instead of a one-way mirror—and in the other room, something even more horrible, even more demonic was happening.

“Shorter!” Eiji cried. He tried to push back against Marvin, but Marvin only wrenched his arm higher, and Eiji keened in pain. “Shorter,” he tried again. “Please…what are you…what are they going to do?”

Marvin laughed, and that laughter spread amongst the other men—effervescent and bubbling like a fine champagne.

“Your friend is fucked,” one of the men behind him said.

Shorter was bound to a chair, and he was struggling and kicking with all his might. Eiji could see his mouth move, he could imagine the screaming and the expletives pouring from his mouth, but it didn’t help, nothing helped. There were people in lab coats, with gloves and other protective gear and they all circled him. Eiji watched as one flicked at the top of a hypodermic needle, and then pulled Shorter’s arm to him tightly, cuffing it further to the chair so Shorter could barely move an inch. Then he tapped along the inside of Shorter’s arm, looking for the perfect vein.

Marvin tapped at the window once and Eiji jumped with the sound. Half of his face was wet, blood still flowing from the head wound. He was so dizzy, so impossibly tired, and he was no longer sure if this was because of the drugs or if it was simple blood loss.

The doctor with the needle looked up and nodded with a hellish smile. Then he bent down and injected the contents of the syringe into Shorter’s arm.

“Marvin, please,” Eiji pleaded. The taste of that man’s name on his tongue was repulsive and once again he thought of Ash, thought of how he dealt with this man, how he dealt with all of them, how strong he was and how hideously weak Eiji turned out to be. “Please,” he tried again. “What are they…what are…”

He fell forward into the window, and Marvin yanked him back.

“Good drugs, huh baby?” he murmured at Eiji’s ear, and then he licked a stripe up the shell of it.

Eiji shuddered in disgust, but everything was swaying so hard now, so sickeningly, that he couldn’t open his mouth to plead for him to stop.

“They’re prepping him for an experiment, see,” Marvin said, his tongue still flickering at Eiji’s ear. “That was just something to soften him up. Make him more supple, pliable. Soon, they’ll be injecting him with another drug though, one I hear you’re quite familiar with.”

Eiji swallowed and tried to flex his fingers. They wouldn’t move—an impenetrable coldness had set in and he started to shiver.

“Just to see how it affects him, of course,” Marvin laughed. “Banana Fish. Ridiculous name for a drug.”

Eiji was sagging against him now, unable to support himself on his legs any longer. The exhaustion was thick and impossible to throw. His head was still swimming, and his tongue felt enormous. He was having trouble swallowing now, and he gagged against the feeling of fullness in his mouth.

“Just wanted you to see,” Marvin continued. “Papa Dino is a generous man, you see. Somewhere, high up above us, in the upper levels of the manse, your friend Ash is here.” He dropped his hand lower and began swirling circular patterns against Eiji’s bare chest, moving lower and lower and lower.

Eiji moaned and tried to shudder away, tried to protest, but he couldn’t move.

“He’ll give Ash an option, see. He can save one of you! Generous, truly generous. Your mutual friend in there? Won’t be injected with Banana Fish until after Ash makes his choice. And you?” he bent his head down against Eiji’s neck and kissed, sucking a bruise into the divot of flesh there. “Well,” Marvin murmured, coming up again. “You won’t be fucked until he decides.” His hand suddenly dropped, grabbing Eiji’s cock hard enough to wring out a gasp. “We can still have a bit of fun before that, of course,” he chuckled.

Eiji tried to force his tongue to move. “Fuck you,” he managed, gasping for air in between each word.

“Oh I’ll be the first, if it comes to that,” Marvin said. “What do you think, though? Will Ash really choose you? A fucking foreigner who can barely speak English who he’s known for a couple of weeks? Or his best friend, who’s about to die?”

Eiji refused to answer. It was obvious. It wasn’t even a real choice. There was no reason for Ash to save him, and there never would be.

Marvin waited only a few seconds, then, “answer me!” he demanded angrily.

Eiji closed his eyes.

His arm was suddenly thrust up, far above the control position and he heard it before he felt it, a single ‘pop’ in the air, and then he screamed against the window in agony, tears falling and breaths turning to sharp, pained gasps.

Marvin dropped his arm, and the weight of it falling caused Eiji to frantically scratch at the window for support, gasping and desperately trying to breath through the pain of dislocation.

Hands wrapped around his neck again, constricting his airflow further, and Eiji started to shudder, started to shake, started to sob as he fell backwards into Marvin’s hands once more.

He was alone.

This should be a good thing. He should feel safer, feel further away from those grasping hands, from Marvin’s sick and disgusting touch.

Instead, that yawning pit of despair had grown, threatening to devour him whole.

They’d dragged him down another floor, even further underneath the grand manse, to a frighteningly dark room that was clearly used for one thing, and one thing only: breaking Dino’s pets. The floor was bare cement, and the walls were lined with shelves and closets—boxes upon boxes stored within, ropes and shiny metal hung, perfectly displayed. There was a king sized bed in the middle of the room, and this was covered in a beautifully ornate, brocade bedspread, with fluffy pillows strewn atop it. This was the only thing that looked completely out of place, looked almost normal were it not from the pulley winch system that hung directly above it, screwed into the ceiling and dangling dangerously thick rope.

And behind all of this? Back in the furthest corner, in the part of the ‘bedroom’ that was darkest and lay in unwavering shadow, was a cage.

It looked almost like a jail cell, but much, much smaller. Black metal bars reached from floor to ceiling on three sides, and on the fourth was the bare, basement wall. It was about three feet by 3 feet in space—not enough room to lay down comfortably, just enough room to curl up tight and wait.

This is how Eiji sat now, curled, knees pulled to his chest, trying hard to ignore the shakes that wracked his body, the way the cement wall burned cold against his bare back.

They’d led him here and pushed him in, and he’d done nothing. He was tired, he was hurting, he was scared, and he didn’t so much gasp out a simple ‘no’.

Instead, he’d listened to them laugh, and tried to block out the words, the chatter, the intensely terrifying descriptions of what they might do. He heard the click of the cage door lock, and he scooted back against the wall and watched as they all left the room.

And so he was alone.

Time passed, minutes, and hours, and he no longer knew what day it was or if it was morning or afternoon or night. He no longer knew if there even existed a world outside of abject humiliation and terror. His head was muzzy and painful and every time he blinked the entire world seemed to sway.

Concussed.

This was a recent word for him, one he’d heard Max and Ash throw about as they knelt over Shorter and bickered over who was the best at treating head wounds. (Max cited army experience, and being dropped in the middle of the desert with no other medic aboard, and the 18 years of life he had on Ash. Ash argued that Max was an idiot and that he’d been the personal medic to his boys for years and years and years. Shorter swatted at them both and yelled in an absolutely stunning display of curse words that all he needed was fucking sleep. )

Eiji remembered this all with the barest ghost of warmth rising in his chest. The memory was clearer than anything else going on in his head at the moment.

He also remembered Max and Ash denying Shorter that sleep because of that word…concussed.

There was a sharp crack of sound at the door, and Eiji snapped his eyes in that direction and waited, breath held, hands starting to shake.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nausea rose again at his sudden movement and he gagged, squinting his eyes closed and trying not to puke. His head was pounding with hurt, and he was so tired and all he wanted to do was sleep but—

Concussed.

Another crack, and then the door swung open.

Marvin.

Eiji tucked his head against his knees and stared resolutely at the hard floor, refusing to watch as Marvin came closer and closer.

There were other men behind him, maybe the same as before, maybe different now. Marvin grabbed a chair from one of the desks and dragged it over to the cell, the metal legs screeching their protest against the concrete the entire way.

Gagging again, Eiji raised his hands to his ears, trying to block out the hideously loud noise that threatened to shatter his skull.

“Not looking so good there, rabbit,” Marvin mocked, with a grin etched across his face. He swung the chair around, so that the back faced the cage door. Then he sat, arms draped lazily at the chair’s back, legs on either side. “Miss me?”

Eiji tried to hide his flinch by pulling his legs even closer still. Still, he stared at the floor, as though the whirls of the cement pour were the most fascinating things he’d ever seen in his life.

The other men surrounded the cage then, spread out in a semi-circle of awfulness. One poked something through the bars, hitting Eiji’s shoulder, and he hissed in pain, scooting further towards the left side of the cage.

“Touchy!” the man said, then he poked again, harder this time, the leather of the long riding crop jostling Eiji’s injured shoulder further.

Sucking in a deep breath, Eiji tried to ignore the burn in his shoulder, and the way the tendons screamed at every movement.

“No fun,” the man said, just as Marvin reached out and tapped at the bars.

“Hey. Rabbit,” he called.

His eyes were filled with disgust and venom and Eiji could only look at him for the smallest moment before he quailed under their hateful stare.

“Awfully quiet,” Marvin sing songed. “Want to know why it took us so long to get back to you?”

Eiji did not.

He didn’t care.

He didn’t know if it actually had taken time, or if this was some game they were playing. It could have been five minutes. It could have been 5 hours. His head hurt and he couldn’t open his mouth without piercing, impossible pain from his cheek and he just wanted to sleep, he wanted to lay down, he wanted to wake up from this nightmare.

“Oh, rabbit…” Marvin called, standing up again, clenching the bars with his fat, meaty hands. “Guess. Take a gander. Why were we gone for so long?”

Eiji looked up long enough to see the smile grow and then the nausea became too much again, he leaned over and coughed bile on the cement floor. There was a pull at his temple at the sudden movement, and a burn of pain, and then he was dripping hot, dark blood on the floor again. The sharp gash had reopened.

Marvin tutted, then drew out the keys to the cell from his pocket.

The door opened with a click, and Eiji tried to shrink himself even smaller.

“You’re not very fun right now,” he chided. “I wanted to be nice, to play a little game. But you’re disappointing me.” He nodded once, to the man at his right, and then there were two of them in the cell, grabbing at Eiji’s arms and hauling him up, hauling him out.

“Wait,” Eiji gasped out. “Wait—”

But it didn’t matter, nothing mattered, fear was building again thick and awful in his throat, and tears were already prickling at his eyes. He was dizzy, he was hurting, and they threw him at the foot of the king sized bed.

Someone came up behind him and dumped a bucket of frigid ice water over him, and this was painfully cold, biting at all of his hurt. He watched the water slosh over him and turn a dusky pink before funneling quietly towards a small, circular drain.

A pair of loafered feet stepped near his line of sight, and then Marvin was kneeling down in his vision, reaching forward and grabbing at a chunk of Eiji’s hair. “Better?” he asked, grinning.

Eiji tried to tug from his grip, but Marvin just pulled him closer.

“I’ll give you one guess.” Marvin said, his voice calmly amused.

Gathering as much spit and blood in his mouth as he could, Eiji spit at Marvin’s feet. Most of it dribbled down his chin but he watched as a small pink spot stained the light brown of the boating shoe.

Marvin raised an eyebrow. “Oh, rabbit,” he said. “You are going to be so sorry for that.” He shook his head as though considering, then looked back up. “Since you don’t want to play our little game, I’ve got something else for you instead.”

He dropped Eiji’s head, laughing as Eiji hit the ground again with a moan of pain. Eiji tried to watch him, but his eyesight was fucked—his one good eye was blurry and unfocused and the other was still completely swollen shut. Still, he could see the basic movements, the way Marvin ground a hand into his crotch, stroking at his hard erection.

“Georgio,” he called, standing and moving once more out of Eiji’s sight. “You get the honors.”

There were arms wrapped around him again, pulling him upright, and Eiji whined in pain at the rub of his shoulder, still out of joint, swollen and awful and hideously painful.

“Shut up,” someone said, as another man laughed.

A new man stepped up—tall, with enormous feet, and dark grey slacks. Eiji tried to focus on breathing, but the only thing he seemed to be able to pay attention to was the way this man’s loafers were black, and shiny, and without the requisite pennies that Marvin’s had.

“Look at me.”

His voice was deeper than Marvin’s, more throaty, more of an Italian accent. Eiji didn’t move.

“Look at me, you fucking Jap.”

Someone wrenched his head back, and Eiji was suddenly staring into the dark brown eyes of someone very tall, and someone very muscular, and someone very, very terrifying. Swallowing was hard, and he fought to move his throat, to say something, to say anything at all, but all that came out was a whisper of a sob.

Georgio reached down to his belt buckle and unzipped his perfectly tailored pants, releasing his erection.

Eiji tried to jerk away, but someone was holding him too tightly, pulling at his hair so hard that it felt as though it were ripping from his scalp.

“Open,” Georgio said. His hand was at his cock now, stroking it to hardness.

He’d seen a cock before. He wasn’t completely naive—his own was fairly unspectacular in size, but he’d seen friends as well, in the showers during track meets, or one particular time, in the darkness of his bedroom. An experiment. Nothing more, just boyish curiosity that ended in huffs of breath against each other’s throats and a sticky mess in the palms of their hands.

This one was bigger than he’d seen and that frightened him more than he’d imagined it could. Long, wide, and an angry red, and already wet with pre-cum. Eiji closed his eyes.

“Open your fucking mouth or I’ll have someone force it,” Georgio said.

His chest was tight, his throat was closing, he couldn’t breathe, he was terrified and he was frightened and his face hurt like hell and he didn’t want to be here, he didn’t want to be here, he just wanted to go home—

Someone smacked the back of his head and then there were hands on his face, pressing into the bones of his broken cheek, and he screamed.

That was all they needed.

There was no escape.

Someone shoved something in his mouth, a ring of hard, hard metal, and he couldn’t close his teeth around it, he couldn’t close his lips, he screamed and bucked and fought their grasp but the straps of the gag just caught in his flesh and hurt so badly that he screamed some more.

They buckled it at the base of his neck, and no matter how hard he shook his head, it wouldn’t come free. His mouth was open in a hideous screaming ‘o’ and there was nothing he could do to fight it. They grabbed his hair again, and held him steady, and then Georgio’s cock was in his mouth, slick and salty, and Eiji couldn’t help but gag around it.

Georgio held still for a moment, just let it sit there, on his tongue, huge and heavy and disgustingly male, and then he started to rock his hips, wrapping hands around Eiji’s head and pulling him closer.

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe around the cock in his mouth and tears were falling now because he couldn’t help it, and he was making awful noises, choking, gasping, wet gagging sounds that were horrible and humiliating and he wanted to die and through it all, he could barely hear Marvin in the background, quiet and calm and incredibly sinister:

“It took so long because your little friend had a bit of trouble making a decision.”

The thrusts were coming harder now, harder and faster and Eiji was pulling back with all his might but he couldn’t fucking breathe—

“But it went down exactly as predicted.”

Georgio groaned then, deep, and unsettling, impossibly quick, and Eiji tasted the intense bitterness of cum as it hit the back of his throat. He gasped for breath as the man pulled out; he panted and gagged, cum dripping down his face, but the reprieve was short lived. Another one lined up, cock out, red and hard and then it started all over again. He couldn’t breathe, and he was sobbing so hard he thought he might burst.

“Ash isn’t coming for you,” Marvin’s voice rang out. “He chose the Wong fucker. You’re ours now.”

And there was nothing Eiji could do but try to breathe, try to fade back somewhere behind it all—behind the hurt and the pain and the humiliation.

Try to ignore the way his heart felt as though it were shattering deep inside his chest.

They put him back in the cage when he was done.

He was sticky, and wet, and the smell of the other men on him made him gag in disgust, but the crowd of men peering in at him and jeering and catcalling and making fun of what a disgusting little boy he was was infinitely worse.

He’d never felt this kind of shame. This humiliation. It burned within him, ate away at everything that was good until the only thing pounding in his ears was disgust and self hatred.

At some point, they left, and he closed his eyes, so exhausted that he immediately slipped into a restless sleep. It may have been a few hours, or only a few minutes. Either way, it was only a tease of relief—he was woken quickly with a blast of water straight to his face and the echo of his pained shout reverberated all around him. He tried to duck down, to make himself as small as possible, but they were relentless, and soon his skin was red and sore, and every muscle screamed in protest from the power washer.

At least he didn’t smell like cum anymore.

“He looks like a drowned rat,” one of them crowed with a laugh.

Eiji zeroed in on him—one of the younger ones, probably still in his 20s, with blond curls framing his face almost angelically. He spared a moment to wonder how someone could turn so mean, could be filled with such poison as to find this funny.

Someone smacked the side of the cage with the butt end of a whip and Eiji flinched back into the corner as far as he could go.

“Move over,” Marvin snapped, and then he was standing at the bars, looking down at Eiji with a snarl of hatred. “Dino wants you ready for him tonight, kitten,” he said. “I’ve never had a whore who didn’t break before that meeting. You’ve got five hours before we get to dress you up and make you beautiful for Papa.”

A whimper escaped Eiji’s mouth and he curled up even tighter, terrified, and scared, and so pathetically useless that he couldn’t even face them on his feet. Something niggled at his brain though, pushing and rubbing, until he whispered it. “Ash…”

“What was that?”

“Ash didn’t break,” Eiji whispered.

The flush started at Marvin’s neck, crawling up the fatty flesh of his chin until his cheeks were crimson. “You’re not Ash, you little fuck. You’ve got no chance.”

He waved the men behind him over, and then the door of the cage was opening again and Eiji threw up his arms, trying to fend them off, just wanting to sleep, just so fucking tired, he just wanted to close his eyes, but he fought again, throwing punches—

His fist landed on flesh with a loud crack and someone yelped.

“You little Jap fucker,” he heard, and then someone kicked him in the stomach and he shrieked, curling in on himself. His breathing was coming in short gasps, and he was trying to yell but nothing was coming out—there was no air, there were only men wrestling him from the cage.

Once he was out, one of them stretched his hands behind his back and his shoulder rubbed hideously at the joint. He was almost sick again, but there was nothing more in his stomach to bring up.

Before he knew it, his arms were bound tightly behind his back. Someone was behind him with a fistful of his hair forcing his head up, and then he was kneeling on the floor again, surrounded by Golzine’s men.

“Don’t,” he managed. He was still trying to curl away, to avoid whatever awful punishment they’d thought up next. Everything hurt so much already.

Then, from behind, he heard the snick of metal.

“Golzine likes his pets to know their place,” Marvin was saying. “The better you behave, the more beautiful accessories you’ll earn.”

Eiji had no idea what Golzine considered ‘accessories’ but he sure as fuck knew he didn’t want to find out. “Fuck you,” he bit out, and started struggling anew. He tried to rise to his feet but hands on his shoulders pushed him down. “Fuck you!” he screamed.

The hand in his hair jerked back and Eiji had no balance, he was swaying on his knees, completely at their mercy, so he squeezed his eyes closed, refusing to look—

It was a collar.

They closed it around his neck with a very final snap of noise. It was thick—so thick he couldn’t look down all the way, and it was heavy, and it was metal of some sort that cut into his neck. It was so tight around his windpipe that he couldn’t get in a full breath of air.

As soon as it was on, all hands let go of him, and he fell backwards onto his bound arms, jarring his shoulder even more. He screamed in pain, but even this wasn’t loud because he couldn’t draw in a breath long enough to do much of anything. He lay there for a moment, trying desperately to calm his breathing, calm his heart that was rabbiting against his chest, but it wasn’t working—he was panicking, and he couldnt’t breathe, and then he was hyperventilating, and every single breath he drew in was so excruciatingly painful he wanted to die–

“Fuck,” someone was saying in the distance.

It didn’t matter. Nothing that they did mattered right now because he couldn’t breath and everything was greying out, and dark black spots danced in his vision. It was as though hands were around his neck, gripping him tightly and choking the life out of him. He tried to roll over, he smashed his head from side to side trying to find the barest hint of give in the awful collar but there was nothing, he was passing out.

Then, here were hands on him again, dragging him upright, and someone was working at the back of his neck.

Suddenly, it loosened.

It wasn’t enough for him to draw in a full breath of air, but it was just enough that something got through. His entire body was shaking now, and he’d been pulled upright at some point because now he was leaning against someone’s pant leg, gasping in small gulps of air.

He couldn’t stop shaking.

His arms were going numb and he wanted to cry with the pain of every movement, but he couldn’t stop shaking.

“Good boy,” Marvin said, then he crouched down.

Eiji almost fell over again with that movement, but Marvin caught him and held him.

“You’re going to be good for Papa Dino, right?” Marvin asked.

For the barest hint of a moment, Eiji thought about spitting in his face.

“Kitten?”

Eiji managed the smallest of nods, despite the thick collar still sitting snug against his throat.

Marvin shrugged. “Sad we won’t get to break you in first, but Papa loves his virgin boys. You’re a little older than his typical tastes, though.” He frowned, then licked a finger and ran it down Eiji’s chest.

It was so predatory, so awful and demeaning—like he was staking his claim—but Eiji didn’t move. There was a thin tendril of oxygen getting to his lungs now with every breath and he was terrified of losing it again.

You’re weak.

He closed his eyes.

You’re pathetic.

“Good boy,” Marvin said, then he reached down to Eiji’s balls and cradled them in his hand, squeezing slowly.

Eiji ignored it at first, still focused on breathing, but Marvin kept squeezing and suddenly there was pain that was shooting up his gut and a horrible whimpering noise was coming from his mouth and he wanted to curl in on himself but he couldn’t move. “If you fuck this up,” Marvin whispered at his ear, “You’re mine. And I don’t play as nice as the others will.”

Nodding, Eiji tried to pull back, but Marvin just gripped tighter. “I…” he gasped out. “I won’t…I—”

The pain was too intense, he couldn’t think—

Marvin let go and it was such a relief that Eiji was crying again. “Thank you, I’m sorry, I’m sorry I won’t…I won’t…I’m sorry…” he was babbling and with every word that dropped from his lips he hated himself even more.

Ash isn’t coming.

The sound of his sniffling sobs was disgusting.

Ash isn’t coming.

“Who has the leash?” Marvin asked.

Ash isn’t coming.

Someone came up behind him and clipped a leash onto his collar.

“Well then?”

Eiji tried to stand, but another man kicked him back down again and then he struggled to regain his balance on his knees without the use of his arms.

“Slaves don’t stand, kitten,” Marvin chastised.

Eiji only nodded, and tried to move on his knees.

Ash isn’t coming.

Someone was tugging on the leash, and it was so hard to keep up, and he was just so tired, he was so tired, he’d do anything for this to stop. Anything.

Oh my god, Ash isn’t coming.

They pulled him out into the hallway, and the men cheered and called him names, and kicked at him, but he kept his eyes forward and focused on moving his knees—one forward, then the other. Then one, then the other. Then one, then the other.

And all the while, the leash pulled tight, and all the while, he sucked in small breaths of air, and it didn’t even matter where they took him anymore, he just wanted to stop crying.

They led him first to a shower stall, dumping him at the bottom of the floor and turning the water on hot. It was so hot it steamed around him, so hot it burned his flesh and left him red, but he didn’t care. The water sluiced around his body, swirling pink at the drain, sucking away the bodily fluids of other men.

After, they left him, naked, and hurt and scared, leash hooked to the wall and an order not to move.

And he didn’t.

He hated himself for it, but he didn’t move, didn’t stand to lift the leash from its hook, didn’t try to free himself. He didn’t do anything but pull his knees to his chest and lean back against the wall, reveling in a moment without jeering, a moment without pain, a moment of silence.

The room he was in was opulence personified, and under normal circumstances, he would have considered himself lucky to be staying somewhere this beautiful. The walls were painted pristine white, and beautiful framed artwork covered them. Most were impressionist French—Eiji recognized Degas and Monet among others—and all were of a soft beauty, entirely non-reminiscent of their owner. There was a king bed in the center of the room situated on a giant wooden four poster frame, with gauzy drapings hanging romantically from the eaves.

There was a door on the opposite side of the room—separate from the door he’d come through— and this led to the bathroom. He wanted to go back there. Wanted to lie underneath the spray again and let the heat relax his muscles. Pretend that he was clean.

Even that wasn’t tempting enough to break through his exhaustion and give him reason to move.

The floor was a magnificent, built of a darkly, burnished wood—so warm looking that one could almost imagine actual heat being given.

There was none though. The floor was cold. The walls were cold. And Eiji couldn’t stop the full body shivers that wracked his naked body.

With every blink of his functioning eye, the blood that had dried on his face cracked further, and he watched as little shreds of it fell to the floor.

His head hurt so badly.

He didn’t care anymore if he was concussed, or if he was injured in some other way. He just wanted to sleep. He was so exhausted, and there were still dregs of whatever drugs they’d given him flowing through his blood stream and it was easy, it was so easy to hunch down against the corner of the room and sleep. His eyes fluttered closed, cheek pressed against the wood floor, trying not to breathe, because every single movement of his body sent pain lancing through his shoulder and cheek.

The door burst open.

Eiji groaned, trying to sit up, trying to move, trying to do anything, but he was too slow. Someone grabbed the leash and yanked, pulling him from his curled, fetal position on the floor and forcing him forward. He gasped, trying to get enough breath in around the collar, but the leash wouldn’t give.

Finally, once he was on his hands and knees, shying away from putting any weight on his dislocated shoulder, the tugging eased.

“I’ve always wanted my way with a Japanese kitten,” Golzine said, his voice booming, sickeningly loud.

Eiji refused to look up, he just looked at the floor and tried to breathe.

There was a snick of sound as the door closed, and then nothing else. He tried to curl in on himself again, but the leash remained taut, not allowing even the smallest of movements backward.

“Well?” Golzine asked. “So far I’ve seen nothing that impresses me. So far I’ve seen no reason for my Lynx to have any sort of fascination with you. I suppose I should have guessed you’d be this pathetic, being that he had no trouble choosing the Wong boy over you.”

Eiji flinched at that, not wanting to, but unable to control the desperate feelings churning within him.

He wanted to be rescued.

He wanted Ash.

The collar tugged again and he was forced forward, crawling pathetically towards the man in front of him. Eiji chanced a look up, blinking away the blurriness of his vision with one eye and noting with relief the cool white linen suit that Golzine wore. No hurt, he though. No blood. No hurt. He won’t ruin his suit.

He’s going to fuck you.

It came up from within him, feral and disgusting and terrifying, and he tried to swallow, so thick, so chalky and impossible around the metal at his throat. He tried to breathe but it was becoming harder again, his throat wasn’t working right and everything was too fast, too hard, too painful—

“Calm down, kitten,” Golzine murmured.

It was closer this time. He’d knelt down by Eiji’s face and Eiji hadn’t even realized it.

Golzine reached a hand out, rested it on Eiji’s good shoulder. His fingers massaged into the muscle there, big, and sweaty, and wrong! his mind shouted. And he didn’t say anything because it didn’t hurt. It felt…nice.

“That’s it, kitten,” Golzine said. His lips were right at Eiji’s ear, the breath from his words whispering against the skin.

Eiji couldn’t help the shudder from it, and then he turned his head fast, trying to get away.

“Ah, ah.”

Gozline pressed his fingers in harder, right at a muscle point that screamed, and Eiji gasped against the pain of it, trying to get away.

“I want you up on the bed, kitten,” he said. His voice was more firm this time. Orders. Orders that needed to be obeyed or consequences would happen. “Do you need help getting there, or can you do this yourself?”

Eiji had no choice.

He repeated this to himself as he carefully climbed onto the bed, holding his hurt arm to his chest, and ignoring the pulse of dizziness that made his head swim with every motion, made his stomach lurch. You have no choice. You have no choice. You have no choice.

“Lay down on your back,” Golzine ordered, his voice thick with arousal. “And spread your legs for me.”

And Eiji did. There was a horrible snuffling sound coming from his nose, and his chest kept heaving with every breath, and he couldn’t control it anymore, he wanted to be strong, he wanted to be so strong, but he couldn’t stop crying.

“There, there, kitten,” Golzine mused. He shrugged off his jacket, and started in at the buttons on his white collared shirt. “It will only hurt a little if you’re good,” he added, pulling the shirt free of his pants and letting it fall to the ground.

Eiji didn’t want to watch and yet he was terrified, he was sick with fear, he couldn’t turn his head away. There was something clawing inside his chest, screaming, and pleading, and desperate to be free, urging him to fight, and he just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t fight because they’d hurt him more, and he didn’t want to hurt—

Golzine had already shed his pants, climbing onto the bed. His cock was hard, red and angry against the paleness of his skin, and his body was wrinkled and swollen with age.

“I don’t—” Eiji murmured, then quickly threw his head to the side, watching the dancers of the Degas painting. They seemed to move gracefully, though etched in paint, still languid and dreamlike. Disappear, they called to him. Disappear…

“Look at me,” Golzine growled, his voice no longer patient.

“I don’t want to,” Eiji gasped. He threw a hand out, and it met flesh—his palm stood stark against Golzine’s chest. “Please,” he whispered.

“You’re older than I like,” Golzine sniffed. “But they tell me you’re a virgin. So you still have some worth around here. Not much, but I’ll enjoy making you scream.” He grabbed Eiji’s wrist then, the hand that was pressed against him, and he twisted so suddenly and so hard, that Eiji heard the pop of the bone break before he felt it.

He screamed. It was such a sudden switch—the man had started so gentle, so slow, and then this.

This.

He tried to breathe, tried to stop the hideous moaning noise that was coming from his mouth, but Golzine just grabbed his broken wrist harder and pushed it down to the bed as he mounted Eiji.

“Wait,” Eiji panted, “please…please wait—”

“I like a little fight,” Golzine groaned, lining up at Eiji’s entrance. “You can scream for me.”

There was no preparation. There was no slick of lubricant, or of anything. There was just Dino, huge above him, pressing against his hole. Eiji threw his head to the side, not wanting to look. Dino’s breath was hitting his face, and it smelled of wine, potent and disgusting. “Wait,” he tried again, humiliated with how scared his voice sounded. He tried to wiggle upwards and out of the way, but Dino held him impossibly still. He pushed forward then with a loud moan, and the tip of his cock breached Eiji’s hole.

It burned. The stretch was horrible, and Eiji went wild, thrashing against Dino’s hold, trying to get away, trying to move out from under him and go anywhere else. “Don’t,” he gasped, throwing his head back and forth. “Don’t!”

Dino just chuckled--a raw, throaty sound. “So tight, my little kitten,” he murmured, then tilted his head down, licking a stripe up Eiji’s throat. “So tight, and so scared.”

Eiji tried to pull away, but the hurt in his wrist felt like daggers. He could feel the wetness of Dino’s tongue against his throat, with every panicked swallow he felt the air against the strip of saliva left there. He knew he should relax--Yue had told him so--but he couldn’t, he couldn’t stop the raw fear that was welling within him. Dino was moving slowly, going deeper and deeper and Eiji couldn’t understand how this would work. He couldn’t understand how his body could ever fit Dino’s cock inside of it--Dino was too big, it had to be impossible.

There was a terrible whine coming from his mouth now, a high pitched frequency that he couldn’t stop, it hurt so much and he couldn’t stop.

And then Dino thrust against him hard, bottoming out, and then moving, again, and again, and again—

He swore he could hear the ripping of his skin, and suddenly the world was red with pain. Eiji could hear the slapping sound of Golzine against him. He could smell the copper of blood, he could taste the blood in his mouth where he bit his tongue, because it hurt.

It hurt more than he could ever have imagined.

The bones in his wrist ground against each other as Golzine gripped him harder, and thought he’d promised himself he wouldn’t, it was only seconds into everything before he started screaming.

And once he started, he couldn’t stop. He screamed with every thrust, with every moan Golzine made, with every slap of Golzine’s belly against his chest, he screamed and screamed and screamed.

“He’s not coming, you pathetic little foreigner,” Dino moaned at one point, thrusting even harder against him.

And Eiji was confused, until he realized that his screams had taken shape, and that shape had molded into words, and those words were Ash.

Ash.

Ash.

He was bleeding. He looked down and saw blood coating his belly, coating his thighs, coating Dino’s cock.

And he knew Ash wasn’t coming. He knew.

Ash did this, he thought. Ash did this, and he survived, and he’s fine, he’s just fine. But he still couldn’t stop screaming, his voice was hoarse with it. This? Sex? It hurt so much. He’d never imagined it could hurt like this, like he was being ripped apart from the inside.

With every thrust Dino made, he swore it was ripping more, all the way up into his belly, and he was frantic with pain, desperate to get out. He tried to move. He tried to wriggle out from under Golzine, but his wrist was pinned, and that hurt, and everything hurt, but it all paled in comparison to the nexus of pain between his legs.

You aren’t the same, the voice nagged at him.

“No,’ he cried, trying to scream, unable to make his throat work the right way anymore.

You aren’t the same and no one will want you after this. You’re nothing. You’re pathetic, and weak, and nothing.

“No,” he yelled, struggling once more, throwing himself back and forth underneath Dino’s grasp.

“Ahhh,” Dino panted against him, his face loosening, his jowels shaking with movement. He was moving faster now, hitting against Eiji hard over and over again. “Ah…ah….ah…ah…”

And then it happened.

Dino moaned, deep and low in his throat and stopped, hips stuttering against Eiji’s thighs. He thrust once more, then groaned a second time, loud and horrible.

And Eiji could feel it. He could feel the warmth inside of him, he could feel it start to trickle out as soon as Golzine moved again. He wanted to be sick. He wanted to scream but there was nothing left. His throat was shredded from yelling, his voice was nothing. Dino had come inside of him, and he could feel the thickness of it dripping, and that was it.

There was nothing more.

He was irrevocably changed, and Dino did nothing but moan above him. It meant nothing.

He started to cry, his chest heaving and his nose full of snot. He couldn’t get a breath in, he was just sobbing, deep, ugly things, that shook his entire body.

“You were a good fuck for a virgin,” Dino said, pulling out.

And there was even more of a mess then—Eiji could feel the blood and cum pooling underneath his thighs, coating his skin. He squeezed his eyes closed as tight as they would go, but he couldn’t stop crying. He couldn’t stop the horrible sounds of his sobs from echoing in the beautiful bedroom.

“You’re too old for my clients,” Dino said, standing from the bed and pulling a towel off of the bedside table—wiping himself down with it. “But I’m sure Marvin wants his chance.”

And then he left, walking towards the bathroom, and leaving Eiji alone on the bed in his nakedness, dirtied, sullied...

and changed.

He stayed on the bed a long time.

At one point, Dino walked back out of the bathroom fully dressed, and stepped up to the base of the bed frame, staring down coldly at Eiji. “I’m having second thoughts,” he said. “You’re very pretty when you cry.”

Eiji wanted to move. He wanted to put a hand over his face so Dino couldn’t see the way he was still sniffling, still having trouble breathing. It was humiliating to be like this, but everything hurt too much to bother with motion, so he stared back, eyes still filled with tears, everything blurry and wet.

And Dino reached down and run a finger down Eiji’s cheek—not enough to press against the bone and hurt, just enough to dip the pad of his fingertip in tears. “Pretty,” he said again, then turned and headed toward the door. “Clean yourself up. Someone will be in for the bedding so don’t just keep lying there in your own filth. I’ll decide what to do with you later.”

And then he left.

Eiji continued to lay on the bed. He drifted off for a time—almost sleeping, but not quite reaching that restful state. Every time his body slipped into stasis, he grew panicked again, his breath tight in his throat, his chest constricting as he struggled to pull in enough air. He’d blink himself awake, suddenly breathing hard again, unable to calm down. It was hell. He was exhausted. Every part of his body hurt, he’d been awake now for what seemed like days, and all he wanted to do was rest, but it was as though his body were in a hyper-aware state—trying so hard to protect itself from any sort of danger that it viewed sleep as the enemy.

He knew he needed to move. He didn’t want to think about what Dino might consider ‘punishment’ for not obeying his directive. But it seemed such an inconsequential thing in comparison to actually sitting up, that he pushed it to the back of his mind, feeling it clatter against all the other memories he was trying very hard to forget.

And so he let himself drift off, then jerked back to wakefulness, heart hammering against his chest and nausea roiling in his gut. And then he’d do it again. And again.

Finally, it became dark in the room as the sun set outside the small windows, and he knew he needed to at least try.

Ash might come, his mind reasoned. You want to be ready when he does.

This thought brought the panicked breaths back and he realized with sudden and horrible shame that despite his subconscious hoping, he didn’t want Ash to rescue him. He didn’t want Ash to ever see him again. Ash had fought, and fought, and fought, and he’d come out on the other side golden, and beautiful, and full of power.

Eiji hadn’t lasted a day.

He was disgusting.

He didn’t want to live.

This was something new, this curling, tentative brush of suicidal ideation. I want to die. I don’t have to live, I want to die.

And it was with that thought that he attempted to rouse himself enough to get off the bed and to the bathroom.

It was embarrassing how long it took him to sit up. He couldn’t put any weight on his wrist now—and as he held it up to his face, he could see that it was extremely swollen and black. He swallowed hard, then moved his other arm down far enough to lean again and push up.

He almost passed out. Everything went black for a moment with the pain of it, but he tried to breathe as deeply as he could and ride it out, ignoring the way he could feel the grinding of bones in his shoulder. Finally he managed to get himself in a sitting position.

His thighs and groin were covered in blood.

He’d felt it as it happened, felt the heat of it against his skin as Dino thrust into him. He’d felt the evidence of Dino’s pleasure as well, thicker and sticky. Seeing it all was ghastly though. A small sound escaped his mouth, and then before he knew it, he was crying again, unable to stop the heaving sobs that wracked his frame.

Slowly, so horribly slowly, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and managed to hobble into the bathroom.

The shower knob was, thankfully, easy to turn, and he stepped in, letting the hot spray of water hit his flesh. He wanted to sit against the wall and just let it wash over him, but he was terrified that if he sank down, he might not be able to get himself up again. So he just stood, sniffling quietly, watching the water run red, then pink, then, after a time, clear.

He stayed there for a long time—and still the water ran hot, impossibly hot, so he turned it even further, letting is scald his skin, leaving red splotches everywhere, hurting as it hit. Then he turned it to cold, letting his body succumb to shivers so intense that they jarred his broken bones and caused even more pain. He just couldn’t will himself to move past the relative safety of the glass shower door. He held his wrist protectively against his stomach, and watched as his belly moved with every breath he took. Eiji had studied his body before. He knew the lines of his hips, the curve of his waist. He knew what the hard muscles of his abdomen looked like in the reflection of a mirror, and for a time, he’d thought it pleasing.

Now, for some reason, it all looked foreign. Unfamiliar. The curve of his belly down to his groin looked softer—not the shape of an athlete, but the shape of something weak, something fleshy and easily broken. He could see the dark wiry hair of his groin, the tight curls that held water droplets from the spray of the shower. He could see his penis, limp, and small, and relatively unassuming.

And all of it looked horribly wrong.

He brushed his hand against his thigh, moving it slowly so as not to jar his shoulder, but enough to let his fingers slide up the curve and tangle for a moment against his genitals. He could feel the touch, his skin reacted to it the same way it always did—with a small tingling sensation, sending goosebumps up his flesh. But something about it was horribly wrong, was just not him any longer. He’d given something up, he hadn’t fought enough, he hadn’t tried harder, he’d let Golzine do...that to him. And it was so personal, and so painful that he couldn’t seem to wrap his head around the fact that his body might still be something that he owned.

He couldn’t understand how the skin underneath his own fingers had ever really belonged to him. It was gross. It was disgusting. He didn’t want to look at it, or feel it, or even think about it.

He closed his eyes and let his fingers drift around his thigh, to the back swell of his butt. Creeping along the crease of it, dipping in–

His sudden intake of breath was loud and strangled. It hurt. He hadn’t even pressed inside, but already it hurt, like jagged shards of glass, sharp and horrible.

He was crying again.

Eiji squeezed his eyes closed as tightly as he could and nudged the shower off with an elbow. Then he opened the door and stepped carefully over the lip of the floor, hissing at the pulling pain between his legs.

The mirror was completely fogged up still, and this suited him just fine. He had no desire to see his face, to see how pathetic and small he looked. He toweled off the best he could, with one of the large, fluffy white towels that sat in a rack next to the shower, closing his eyes again so as not to see the trail of dark red that bled into the fabric. Blood was dripping down on his legs again, between his thighs. He could even smell it—coppery in the air. It wasn’t much, it was just from moving again, re-opening scabs deep inside of himself, but Eiji balled the towel up as best he could and stuck it between his thighs, trying to ignore the burning sense of humiliation at the fact that he couldn’t clean himself up, that he couldn’t even obey Dino’s wishes.

There was fear there, fear that he was trying to tamp down; that Dino might see his towel ruined and do something worse. Or that he’d simply give up on Eiji and throw him back to Marvin after all, disgusted by the fact that he was dirty, that he was disgusting. That he was used up.

And that was followed by that pulsing idea, rhythmic in its insistence. Want to die. Want to die. Want to die.

There was a medicine cabinet just next to the mirror, and Eiji came up out of his thoughts enough to notice it. He reached forward, pulling the door open.

It was empty—there was nothing there. It had either been cleaned out recently, or had never been used in the first place. Eiji swallowed thickly, dizzy with unease. He wasn’t sure if he was more relieved that there was nothing inside, or if he was more distressed that there were no razor blades, no scissors or sharp objects. No easy way out.

The mirror had cleared once he closed the little door and there he was.

A boy with black hair. Olive colored skin. Epicanthic folds to his eyes that he’d never considered to be anything other than normal until he’d come to America. Until people had commented on his looks, on his speech, on his body. Casual racism that they’d probably not even realized could hurt.

Right now, one of his eyes was still swollen, the cheek dark black and blue, skin pushing up high enough that made it hard to see. His other was fine though—though the dark brown eye looking back at him with something that made him feel sick.

Judgment?

Pity?

Hate?

“Eiji,” he whispered. There wasn’t a reason for it, necessarily, only that he’d suddenly wanted to hear his name from his own lips, he’d wanted to see if he still had an identity. “Okumura Eiji.”

His voice was hoarse from screaming and disuse. It still hurt to speak. The leash had been left at the side wall, where he’d managed a few hours of sleep before...this. But the thick metal collar lay heavy at his throat, bobbing with motion with every syllable spoken, and it hugged his throat so close, that it was still hard to pull in a full breath. He was learning though. Getting used to it.

“Eiji,” he said one more time.

It meant nothing. It sounded foreign, like someone else’s name. Not his. There was a tightness in his throat then, and a burning feeling as he gasped.

There were tears trickling down his cheeks and he could feel the paths they cut, tingling and wet. He looked down before he saw his reflection crying.

“Hello?”

Eiji turned to the door, a spike of raw panic hitting his stomach. The towel was still between his legs, a darker red now as the blood hit the air. He didn’t recognize the voice, but it couldn’t be anything good.

“Hello?” It came again.

Eiji reached for the doorknob, but it started to turn before he got there, then the door sprung wide open.

“Oh. You’re in here. That works, I suppose.”

There was a man there that Eiji didn’t recognize, a man in a white coat with a large bag in his hand. Behind him though were others—men that Eiji didn’t recognize, but were large and scary looking and probably no better than the ones from the first day. They were men that he didn’t want near him. He shook his head slowly, backing up further into the bathroom, heart starting to beat fast again at his chest.

“It’s alright,” the man in the coat said. “I’m just here to help.”

“No,” Eiji whispered. The towel dropped out from between his legs as he moved, and he felt a rush of heat to his face, still embarrassed by his nakedness, still coherent enough to fully comprehend that he didn’t want to be here, that he didn’t want this man coming any closer.

“I’m Doctor Connors. I’m just going to get you patched up.”

“No,” Eiji said again, this time louder, despite the way it hurt his throat. Connors had pushed his way into the bathroom now though, the other men standing tall at the door. “I’m fine,” Eiji tried, ignoring the way his voice shook.

“Hardly,” Connors scoffed. “This would be easier on the bed. Any chance I can get you out there?”

“No. No no no no—” it was as though something within him had broken, and he couldn’t press the reset, he couldn’t start over, he just kept saying no, over and over.

“Kid, calm down. Just relax.” Connors reached a hand out, brushing a finger against Eiji’s cheek—

Eiji bit him. He turned his head faster than he’d even realized was possible and managed to snag the top of Connors finger in his mouth before biting down hard. He tasted blood, and he heard yelling, and he felt Connors pull his finger from Eiji’s mouth, tearing the skin further. Eiji spit blood, and then the other men were on him, pushing around him despite the smallness of the bathroom and holding him completely steady. There were hands on his shoulders, on his arms, someone had a hand in his hair and they were pulling his head to the side so hard it hurt. He tried to fight for half a second but he gasped in pain, unable to move for all the hurt in his body. “No,” he choked out. “No. No!”

Connors had some sort of syringe ready, something he’d probably been planning on using in the first place as he didn’t seem to do anything but pull it straight from his bag. He hit a finger against it a few times, and Eiji saw a tiny spurt of liquid come out the top.

“Hold him still,” Connors said.

“Noooo,” Eiji panted, biting his bottom lip and trying to keep breathing. His heart sounded so loud in his ears, thunderous and awful. The men held him still though, no more force than necessary, and Connors advanced. “Kill me,” Eiji moaned. “Please.” He tried to look up into Connors eyes, but the man was refusing to meet them. “Please,” Eiji begged. “Please kill me, please kill me, please—”

The needle went into his neck, a sharp poke, and then the feeling of numbness spread through his entire body. “No,” he managed once more before falling limply against the men in the bathroom.

“Take him to the bed,” Connors said.

They did. They picked him up with ease, carrying him from the bathroom and then lying him on the sheets of the king-sized bed. Whatever drug they’d given him this time hadn’t knocked him out completely, just numbed him in a way that made it hard to parse his thoughts, hard to muddle through thinking anything. He noticed that the sheets were white again, pure and clean and crisp, and he realized that someone must have come in while he was in the shower to change them. To whisk away the evidence of what Dino had done. The men laid him down gently, his legs spread slightly, his arms against his sides, and then Doctor Connors rolled some stool up to the base of the bed and sat.

“Closer,” he said, and they moved him again, tugging his body down further so that Connors could get a better look at everything. “Good,” he said, then waived with a hand.

Eiji watched the men back up to the perimeter of the room, standing guard. Over what, Eiji didn’t know. He was hardly in any shape to be bursting off the mattress and attacking them all. “No,” he whispered, his head lolling to the side.

“You keep your mouth shut,” Connors ordered. Gone was the ‘nice guy’ from the bathroom. He sat at the base of the bed for a while, fiddling with something, and Eiji finally realized that he was bandaging his finger. Once he finished with that, he unrolled a long towel next to Eiji’s legs and began laying out equipment.

Eiji was having trouble moving much—whatever drug this was, seemed to have a sort of paralyzing effect on his limbs—but his heart was starting to beat faster, thumping against his chest painfully, and he was shivering, then sweating, and then shivering again, unable to control his fear. “Stop,” he pushed out, past a tongue that felt thick and useless in his mouth. “…sstop.”

A hand grabbed his knee, pushing it to one side, and Connors stood up, looking Eiji right in the eye. “Kid,” he said, pursing his lips, and looking down as though he were nothing more than an insolent school child. “I’m trying to fucking help you. Stop fighting me.”

The hand was still on his knee, not going anywhere, just touching him, and he could feel fingertips swirling patterns into his flesh, and he could feel someone’s tongue licking up the side of his belly, and he could feel the warm, fetid breath of Golzine against his face, and none of it was real, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it. “Stop,” he pushed out again, “I don’t…I don’t…” his breath was coming too fast, the doctor was standing over him with a frown on his face.

“Hey,” Connors called over his shoulder. “Someone get me another dose of morphine out of my bag.”

No one moved and Eiji threw his head to the other side, a steady buzz in his ears, everything too heavy, everything terrifying. A rush of heat started in his belly and made its way up through his throat. “I’m gonna be sick,” he managed.

“Fuck,” Connors growled, and he pushed a blanket towards the side of the bed Eiji was leaning towards. “Right there,” he said. “You can be sick there.”

Nothing made sense though, his head was swimming, his body felt tight and useless and wrong, wrong, wrong, and Eiji threw his head to the other side, puking bile all over the clean sheets.

“Fuck,” Connors said again. “Jesus, kid, just listen!”

Eiji’s cheeks burned red again, there was still puke in his mouth, and he could feel it, wet against his chin. “…’m sorry,” he tried, forcing breath back down his throat, trying to savor the taste of clean air, trying not to be swallowed into whatever memories lay waiting for him, simmering under the guise of unconsciousness. Every breath he took was loud in his ears, every swallow painful. The hand from his knee was back now, at his neck this time, pushing his head away, and he tensed up, trying to throw them off and realizing he had no strength to barter with. “Uhh…” he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe—

“He’s hyperventilating,” someone said far away.

“Fucking Christ, where’s the morphine?”

The hands held him stronger, and he was going to be sick again, he tried to swallow it down, but he couldn’t, he started gagging, he started—

There was another pinch against his neck, another rush of warmth and numbness, immediate to his blood stream, and suddenly everything was so heavy he could barely keep his eyes open.

“There we go,” Connors said, from some place very far away. “Just relax.”

Eiji very much did not want to ‘just relax.’ But the morphine was strong, and his hurts very quickly felt distant, faded almost, as though no longer important. He swung his head up, looking at the ceiling, and the way it sloped upward until it met the other side, then sloped back downward again. Inconsequential. Like a hill.

“Alright, kid? I’m starting with your wrist.”

He didn’t care. Somewhere, his arm was moving, and someone was prodding him, and...oh. Oh, there. There was hurt underneath all the cottony warmth. He must have made a sound, because Connors looked up at him with a frown on his face, but then he just as quickly ducked his head back down and resumed whatever it was he was doing.

Setting the bone, Eiji thought. Wrapping it, maybe. Making his hand…usable again. And he wanted to laugh at this. He did laugh, a small, heartbreakingly-frail, bubbling sound that fell limp against the mattress. Connors looked at him again, but deemed it not worthy of attention, and so Eiji let another laugh loose.

It was ridiculous. They were fixing him, only to send him back to Golzine. Or worse, send him back to Marvin. They’d just hurt him all over again, and what? Would they fix him up again? Would they just continue in this cycle of violence just for the fun of it?

Did they do this to Ash?

His stomach clenched at the thought of Ash, and he forced himself away from that query, not willing to poke too hard. The morphine was hitting even harder and his eyelids were heavy, so heavy. He passed out for a bit then, actually falling into a dreamless sleep for a few moments.

He sure as fuck woke when they set his shoulder though. He came out from sleep with a scream, and more hands rushed to hold him down. There were tears in his eyes, but this kind of hurt was a healing kind of hurt. It was already easier to breath with his shoulder popped back in the socket. Already easier to move.

They moved to his face next, Connors pressing against his skin in a few places, before telling him that his cheek isn’t broken, just bruised and swelling badly.

Apparently the only cure for that, in Dino’s mansion, was time, and once again Eiji wanted to laugh.

There was a short while then, when no one held on to him. When he was able to just lie against the mattress and pretend like nothing hurt, pretend like he wasn’t completely naked in a room full of men, pretend like he might sleep again, normally, without the presence of night terrors to keep him company.

But then Connors sat down in between his legs.

Eiji immediately tried to close them, tried to push up from where he’s sitting, but Connors snapped his fingers and two of the men against the wall peeled off and grabbed at his knees, first pushing them up so that his calves met his thighs, then pulling them down, spread out.

He was open and exposed, and horribly humiliated. He could feel it start again, the way his breathing quickened, the way he started to shiver uncontrollably, the way tears prickled at the corners of his eyes.

“Come on, kid,” Connors grit out, pulling the stool closer. “Just hold it together a little longer.”

Eiji bit his lip so hard he tasted blood. He knew that Connor was helping. His wrist was wrapped, his shoulder was back in place. But even knowing that the doctor is supposed to help, he couldn’t handle the dark shame that was hitting him, heavy and wet and vitriolic. Connors pressed a hand against his inner thigh and Eiji started to beg. “Don’t,” he pleaded, eyes wide, tears beginning to stream down his face. “Don’t, please, please, please—” the morphine was really wearing off now. His wrist ached, his shoulder ached, and worst of all, he could speak clearly again, which meant he had to listen to how weak and pathetic he sounded while begging.

Connors didn’t say anything. Didn’t ask permission, didn’t do anything so ‘consensual’ because what was the point, Eiji figured. He was damaged goods now, nothing mattered anyway. But he couldn’t help the flinch of thought— he didn’t want the man’s fingers anywhere near…

That.

He didn’t realize how hard he was pushing against the hands holding him down, until one of the men got right in his face and yelled at him, “Relax, you fucking Jap.”

And this hit him harder than anything.

These men weren’t any better than the ones downstairs were. These men would hurt him and use him and laugh about it, just the same as anyone else here. The tears came harder, and he threw his head to the side, noting with completely apathy that the sheets were still crusty from his own puke. And he closed his eyes, trying to ignore the horrible sounds of his own sniffling, and focused on not moving.

Connors pushed a finger in.

Eiji was so tense he was certain that he might shatter, and he wished more than anything that he could shut himself off. Stop caring. Wall off his emotions and just…let it happen.

But he couldn’t.

With every press of the doctor’s fingers, Eiji whimpered, and pressed his eyes closed as tightly as he could. His head hurt from crying, or maybe was the morphine slowly dredging itself from his system. The pain between his legs was getting worse again, and he didn’t think that Connors was actually doing anything to help. For a moment, he imagined Golzine entering the room, leaning over him to fuck him again, this time with hands holding him spread eagle, with drugs coursing through his veins, with absolutely no way to fight at all.

He choked then, on snot, on tears, on a restricted airway from the fucking collar. He didn’t know what, all he knew was that for a moment, he couldn’t get a breath of air in, but then someone helped him sit up, someone one was pounding on his back, someone was rubbing small circles against his spine.

“Stop,” he murmured, as soon as he got breath back.

Connors was standing up, and Eiji pulled his knees to his chest, hissing in pain still, but trying to become as small as he possibly could.

“You’ve got a lot of tearing,” Connors said. He gathered his materials all up in the towel, despite them being bloodied and used, then shoved them back into his bag. “I’d stitch you up, but there’s not much point, is there?”

He shrugged, looking at Eiji with something akin to pity, and Eiji wished more than anything that he’d bitten the man’s finger clean off.

“I’d get off the bed,” Connors continued. “They’ll send someone in to change it again. But Golzine usually likes his pets over there.” He nodded to the floor, where Eiji had first been chained up against the wall. “Try not to move your shoulder much. It’ll pop back out again easily if you aren’t careful.”

Then he turned, motioning to the men against the wall, and Eiji watched as they all filed out of the room, closing the door behind them.

There was a clicking sound, and he knew with a heavy certainty that he’d been locked in. He knew that there was no point to fighting anything.

Everything still hurt. It was lesser now, the doctor had actually attempted to help, but it still hurt to breathe. It still hurt to think. There were recent memories now that terrified him, that he kept trying to push further from the forefront of his mind, but that resurfaced everytime he closed his eyes.

He didn’t want to live like this.

He wanted to die.

But he knew that there was nothing in the bathroom to kill himself with, and there was nothing in the bedroom to kill himself with, and he really had no choice but to carefully crawl off the bed, curl up in his corner of floor, and sleep as long as he could.

And so he did.

Eiji is asleep for what feels like days, even the aches and hurts of his body not enough to rouse him from unconsciousness. The first time he really wakes enough to be cognizant of his surroundings again, it’s to the sound of the door swinging open.

A young woman dressed in an obvious uniform of black and white steps in—some sort of maid or servant of Golzine’s manse. She’s carrying an armful of linens, and quickly sets to work stripping the bed, just as Connors had mentioned would happen. Eiji watches her every move, but she doesn’t look over at him even once, just pretends he isn’t there.

It’s just as well. Eiji’s just another thing in this room.

The maid finishes quickly and methodically, not once speaking, not once making a single movement that is unnecessary. Then she leaves, letting the door lock behind her, and he is alone again.

Eiji waits for a while, just to see if anyone else comes in. When nobody does, he closes his eyes and sleeps some more.

It’s dark when he next wakes, and a swell of nervous energy thrums through his body. Eiji is unsure if he’s slept for an hour, or an entire day, or even longer. It’s starting to make him uneasy. He’s losing so much time that his entire body feels perilously stagnant, as though real life no longer exists, as though Okumura Eiji has been distilled to nothing but pain, and there is nothing else left.

He’s finally awake enough to stay lucid though, and even though he can’t seem to shake that sandy-eyed exhaustion from his eyes, that simmering self-hatred has flared to life again and is pulsing with every breath he takes.

He knows that someone will come. It might be Dino, it might be Marvin, it might be someone else entirely. But someone will come and will force him down, and will make him hurt, and he’s so, so scared.

The air conditioning suddenly kicks on with a soft buzz, and Eiji brings his knees to his chest, looping his arms awkwardly around them so as not to disturb the bandages. His teeth are chattering, so loud and hard that he’s afraid he might bite his tongue.

Everything still hurts.

The doctor tried to make him better. He at least cleaned Eiji up a bit, he supposes. But everything still hurts to move. He considers forcing himself up and into the bathroom. He could shower there again—feel the warm water against his skin, feel more comfortable in his naked body. But nothing will help him to feel truly clean anymore, and every breath he takes still brings considerable pain, enough that he really doesn’t want to move.

So he doesn’t.

He just leans against the wall, his cheek rubbing against the white paint, and watches the Degas dancers, wishing for all the world that the colors of his body might begin to smear like oil paint and slowly shift into something beautiful.

It’s not until much later that Dino enters the room again.

It is still dark outside, well into the deepness of night, and Dino looks as though he’s come from some sort of fancy dinner. He’s wearing a dark blue suit, with a blood red shirt underneath and a tie that cuts across the richness of the colors with a white so pure, it seems almost to not exist at all.

Eiji watches him tiredly, and though his heart rate accelerates, beating frantically against his chest, his limbs are too numb from sitting in the cold to respond much at all.

“I trust you’ve made use of your time and slept?” Golzine asks him, stepping forward around the bed so that his full body is in view, but still leaving a bit of space between them.

Eiji looks down and doesn’t answer.

“We are going to begin with some rules tonight,” Golzine says.

He smiles, and it is almost a calm thing, gentle and beckoning. A full body shiver hits, and Eiji looked at the floor, gripping his knees even tighter. It’s more terrifying to see him kind, because Eiji knows just how quickly Golzine’s kindness can turn to violence.

“No,” Golzine chides, and walks the last few steps to Eiji, looking down. “You need to acknowledge me,” he says gently. “You may call me Papa. And I’ll take very good care of you rabbit, as long as you follow these few rules. Do you understand?”

It’s getting hard to breathe. Eiji is sweating now, despite it being so cold his skin is frozen to the touch. This is a heat that started in his cheeks and travels down quickly, causing sweat to prickle everywhere. He forces himself to nod.

“No,” Dino says again, this time a little harsher, as though trying to train a particularly recalcitrant puppy. He squats down and reaches out a hand, taking Eiji’s chin between his thumb and fingers and forcing Eiji to look directly in his eyes. “I said you may call me Papa. Do you understand?”

His breaths are coming so fast that he isn’t sure he can get a word out. His heart is thumping so hard in his chest that it’s painful, it’s terrifying, he can’t get enough air. He forces another nod, as Golzine’s fingers dig into his face, and he tries to force it out. “Y…y…yes P..Papa.” Then he bites his lip, furious with how his eyes are already starting to water.

“Good boy,” Golzine says, and lets go, standing back up.

Eiji looks back to the floor, trying very hard not to cry.

“The next rule is that you will do as I command. There are others who may give you orders as well, and we will get to that in time. But right now, you will obey me. Do you understand?”

“…Y…yes Papa,” Eiji murmurs. It comes easier this time, so much easier when he doesn’t have to look at the man.

“Good!” Dino turns and walks back to the foot of the bed, sitting down on the beautiful white comforter. “Come here. I’d like to see you.”

It takes him a very long moment to finally unfold his limbs and try to stand. Dino is watching him the entire time, and Eiji chances a glance just once, before tearing his eyes away. The man is smiling, as though Eiji were a toddler about to take his first steps, or maybe a dog about to perform a trick. It’s horrible trying to move. He’s been folded up for so long that everything is pins and needles, and the tearing, burning at his backside is enough to make him gasp in pain. He finally manages to come to his feet, swaying slightly and putting his good hand out to balance himself against the wall.

Don’t do this, his mind wars with him. Disobey. Make him kill you fast. Make him kill you quick. Just die, just die, just die.

He knows how ridiculous that is. Ash rebelled again and again and again and he was never put to death. He is not going to find an easy way out of this, he needs Ash to rescue him, he needs Ash….

He needs Ash…

He’s having more and more trouble breathing, he leans his head against the wall again and tries to calm himself but—

Ash.

Ash.

He wants Ash…

“Boy!” Dino barks.

Eiji draws in a sharp breath, and his lungs soak it up painfully, leaving him gasping audibly. “…’m sorry,” he mutters, pushing back from the wall and standing straight. He quickly lowers his hands to cover himself. It has to be instinct, nothing more, because Golzine has already seen everything of him and Eiji had given it up with absolutely no fight at all.

He hates himself so much.

“I want to see you here, now,” Dino orders.

There is a note of finality about it, and Eiji knows this is his last chance. He forces himself forward, unable to hide the flinch of pain in his face with every step he takes. Finally, finally, he stands in front of the base of the bed.

“Closer.”

Eiji steps forward, not touching Golzine yet, but close enough so that their knees might brush if he sways far enough. He still looks at the floor, unable to force his gaze up. He can feel a flush start in his cheeks then travel down his chest and shoulders. He’s completely naked, and Golzine has seen it already, but he was different then. Now he is nothing. He is used up, he’s disgusting, he wants to die.

He’s humiliated.

There’s a whisper of movement and then Golzine’s hands are on his hips, drawing him even closer. Eiji shivers, and tries not to gag.

“You’re quite slender,” Dino says, his fingers stroking against Eiji’s hip bones. “I believe you were an athlete? Is that correct?”

Eiji swallows thickly, then nods.

It happens so fast his eyes don’t track it—Dino lets go of him, and then grabs his broken wrist, squeezing so tightly that the bones grind together. It hurts so badly. He can’t scream. He can’t get a breath in, he just reaches across and claws at Dino’s hand, ignoring the burn in his shoulder, desperate to get the pressure off, to get rid of that searing pain, to, to, to,

“Please,’ he’s moaning, over and over. “Please, please—”

As suddenly as it happens, Dino lets go and settles back on the bed, hands at his knees.

Eiji can barely stay on his feet. He holds his wrist to his chest, and blinks away tears, trying so hard to get his breathing back under control, trying not to cry, trying not to panic, trying not to run.

“I’ll give you one more chance. No more mistakes. I asked you a question. How do you answer?”

“Yes,” Eiji hears himself saying before he can even register that his mouth is answering. “Yes, Papa. I…I was…uh…uh…” he’s panicking, he can’t come up with the word, he can’t think around the hurt. “Sorry, I am sorry…I…pole vault. Pole vault. Pole vault—”

“Yes, okay.” Dino cuts him off.

Eiji has to force his lips closed around his traitorous tongue, or he won’t stop talking. He won’t stop answering. He just…he doesn’t want to hurt anymore, and it’s horrible to be standing like this, in front of someone who has so much control that even the smallest tug of his mouth makes Eiji desperate to get everything right.

“Good boy,” Dino says, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Good boys get rewards from me,” he added. He smiles further, as though this is something that Eiji should strive for, something he should want.

But Eiji is shaking so hard his vision is slightly blurry. He breathes in as deeply as he can, then lets it out again, trying to count seconds, but never making it beyond two. His breath is so loud in his ears, and he is certain Dino can hear him, can hear the way he’s almost in tears.

“Now I just want to know a little more about you. Okay?”

“Y…yes Papa,” Eiji manages.

“Good! You’re catching on.” Golzine smiles, a slow, creeping thing across his face.

Eiji wants to throw up.

“A pole vaulter,” Golzine muses. “Good.” He puts his hands on Eiji’s hips again, and begins to move them slowly, stroking up his sides, then back down to his thighs, feeling the curves of Eiji’s body.

Closing his eyes, Eiji tried his best not to move.

“You’re shaking,” Golzine notes. “You need to calm down, Rabbit. You’re wasting energy.” His hands move up again, resting just under Eiji’s armpits, then back down, settling once more on his hips. “Can you say your name?”

Eiji blinks in confusion. Golzine knows who he is. He knows, he has to know, he’s taken everything, he has to know.

Golzine’s hands tighten in a bruising grip, and Eiji swallows. “Eiji, Papa,” he manages, his tongue thick in his mouth.

“Eiji,” Golzine repeats, clunky, and horrible, and wrong. “Eiji. How exotic.” He traces a finger up Eiji’s belly, all the way to his neck, then further, brushing against his eyes. “A beautiful, exotic pet.”

Swallowing again, Eiji tries to turn his head to the side, tries to look away, but Golzine just taps him back into place.

“Look at me,” he says. Then he lets go, allowing his left hand to fall idly at his side. His right hand lands on the crotch of his pants and begins moving slow circles around the fabric. Soon, his cock is hard, pressing against the seam of his dress slacks. “I’d like to play a game tonight, Eiji,” he says, throaty and wet. “Doctor Connors tells me you’re hurt. That you need rest. Is that so?”

Eiji doesn’t know why Golzine is asking him this. He doesn’t know what answer he’s supposed to give! The doctor would have almost certainly given him a full rundown of Eiji’s hurts, but does Golzine want Eiji to agree? Or does he want Eiji to pretend it’s not that bad so he can fuck him again? Eiji’s hands are shaking so hard they’re hitting against his inner thighs, where he’s still trying to cover himself, and he opens his mouth, then closes it again, terrified of being wrong.

“Eiji, I need you to answer,” Golzine says, hard and authoritative.

“Yes, Papa,” Eiji whispers. “Yes, I am supposed to rest.” Then he sucks in a deep breath and holds it, ready for punishment, ready for pain.

It doesn’t come. “Good boy,” Golzine says. His hand is still moving against the seam of his pants, still brushing the hardness that is tenting the fabric. “I’ll let you rest tonight, then. See? You are doing so well, and you are already earning rewards.”

Eiji doesn’t necessarily think that standing naked, shivering in the cold, and shaking with fear in front of the head of the mafia is a reward, but when he weighs it against the alternative, he finds himself nodding, “Thank you,” he’s whispering before he can stop himself.

“What is your home like, Eiji?” Golzine asks.

Eiji starts at the sudden change in direction, and he looks back down, wishing very much that he could seep into the floorboards and just…be gone. “Fine, Papa,” he says.

Golzine stops stroking himself and stands, grabbing Eiji’s hair in one hand and pulling his head to the side so hard that Eiji yelps. “When I ask you a question, you stupid, stupid boy, you answer it to the best of your abilities. I will not remind you of this again. Your chances are gone. You do as I say, or I call Marvin up here and you’re his. You won’t see me again. You won’t see anything except a small, metal cage, and the cocks of my men fucking you in every hole you have. Do you understand me?”

Eiji’s gone rigid with fear, he’s trying to nod but he can’t move, he’s trying to speak but his vocal chords are so tight he can’t make a sound. The only thing that comes is a horrible whimper, pained and terrified. “Yes,” he finally forces out as Dino shoves him backwards. He stumbles, but manages not to fall, tries to suck in as much air as he can. “Yes, I am sorry Papa, Yes, Yes, I…I am from Izumo. It is beautiful. There is ocean there. It is north, not as many people but my family…” he pauses, suddenly stuck. Dino is still standing, still watching him, lips curled in a sinister sneer. “There is…my…family?”

His mother. His father. His sister. All waiting for him to return. What will they think of you now? The voice inside mocks, and he flinches, sniffling through his nose, horrified that once more he’s crying.

“Good,” Dino says, settling back down on the end of the mattress, his legs splayed wide. His cock is still hard, Eiji can still see it pressing at the fabric. “Maybe I’ll go there someday to visit. I haven’t been to Northern Japan. Maybe I’ll take you, if you prove to be a good boy.”

Shuddering as he breathes, Eiji manages a small nod. “Yes, Papa.”

“What is it that you want, Eiji?”

To go home. “Clothes,” Eiji says instead.

“Clothes, Papa,” Golzine corrects.

Eiji stiffens, then amends his request. “Clothes, Papa. Please.”

“What else do you want, Eiji?”

“To go home.” This time he does vocalize it. It’s a small, puny thing, almost soft enough to disappear completely, but Golzine smiles at him in response.

“Oh no, no. Not yet, my beautiful, exotic boy. But clothes, we can talk about.”

Dropping his eyes to Golzine’s feet, to his beautifully shined black leather loafers, he nods his head.

“Touch yourself.”

Eiji’s head flies up, looking directly in Golzine’s eyes, unsure of what exactly he means. He just stares directly at Eiji though, eyes piercingly blue. “I…I do not…what, Papa?”

“Mmm,” Dino moans. He reaches a hand up just enough to catch the zipper of his fly and tug it down, working out his cock, red and angry. “You heard me. Touch yourself Eiji. Remember, good boys get rewards. I want to see you make yourself cum.”

Eiji swallows. He tries to breathe, but it gets stuck, and his chest feels like it might explode. Every time he exhales it sounds pitiful, snotty and pathetic, and he’s crying harder now. He’s trying to stop, but it’s just making it worse, he’s making little whimpering noises with every breath.

“Eiji,” Golzine warns.

Eiji reaches for his cock with his good hand, and wraps his fingers around the soft flesh.

It feels like nothing. It’s not him. Not his body anymore. He doesn’t know how to make it respond, it’s just…nothing. He is right handed, but that was his broken wrist, and so he is trying to do everything backwards, and it’s foreign and wrong.

Dino is watching him, and slowly jerking himself, wrist and fingers flicking quickly around his cock in practiced motions, and Eiji wants to gag. He looks at the floor, but it was blurry from tears, and he can still hear it, still hear the wet sounds of Dino’s meaty palm against his own body.

“You aren’t trying very hard,” Dino comments

Eiji’s cock is still horribly soft, and he doesn’t know what to do. “I am sorry,” he bursts out, words garbled and scared. “I am sorry, I am sorry, I am—” he keeps tugging, stroking, wrapping his hand around, but it isn’t working. It isn’t working, and Dino’s going to give him to Marvin, and no matter what happens, his life is over. It’s already over. It was over the moment Yue left him alone in that room, hands cuffed to the bed, helpless and afraid.

It wasn’t, the voice mocks. Ash was there. Ash could have saved you. Ash didn’t save you, didn’t save you, didn’t save you…

He closes his eyes and stops moving.

Then carefully lets a finger drift down the inside of one thigh, brushing barely against the skin, before coming back up to the crease between his leg and scrotum. He traces it down the other side, imagining it’s the whisper of breath of someone. Someone special. Someone—

Ash didn’t save you.

He winces and pulls back from that, refusing to let it dominate his thoughts. His finger comes back up again, gently brushing against the base of his penis, and now…oh now…it’s finally hardening, he wants to sob in relief.

Instead, he sucks in a breath, holds it, tries to ignore the wet on his cheeks from his pathetic tears, and slowly wraps his hand around himself once more, stroking down to the tip, then back up again, working it to full hardness.

It takes so long. It’s so cold in the room, and his stomach is churning at what he’s doing and every so often, he blinks his eyes open and loses all the ground he’s gained, having to start all over. He doesn’t look at Dino. The man is still masturbating, and every so often he lets out a groan of pleasure and it’s enough to make Eiji want to puke.

He can’t though. He has to do this or things get worse.

He has to do this to get clothing, and he has to get clothing to get out of this room, and he has to get out of this room to…

Escape? The voice laughs. Escape to what? You are nothing, nothing, nothing.

He lets the chant blanket him, swallow him and become true. Allow him this nothingness so he doesn’t have to look at the little room with the beautiful bedspread and the rich paintings and the scared, naked little boy who has lost everything.

There’s finally wetness at the tip of his cock and he dips his fingers in it, pushing back the foreskin and letting the pads of his fingertips glide across the sensitive skin. He’s getting close now, the familiar tightening in his stomach is starting and with it comes a heat that flushes through his chest and up to his cheeks. His lips are pressed together, but he can still hear the shaky inhalations of every breath.

Somewhere, Dino is near, moaning more frequently now, getting close, getting closer, but Eiji pushes it away and just imagines what it might feel like if someone were to love him.

His thumb brushes against the slit again, and suddenly he’s right there, he’s about to cum, he’s about to burst. “I…” he tries to force out. “I…I’m going…”

“Cum for me Eiji,” Dino groans.

Eiji does. It spatters across his fingers, he can feel it sticky and hot in the palm of his hand as he continues to stroke himself through it. It’s only seconds, and then it’s over, and he opens his eyes, and it hits him so hard he can’t breathe.

There’s milky white droplets of his cum on the floor.

And Dino sits in front of him, gasping once, then twice, then a long, drawn out moan as he orgasms, cum shooting from his cock and hitting Eiji’s belly.

Eiji freezes.

His cock is already limp again, his hand is sticky, but he holds it to his side, and his mouth is open, paralyzed in between breaths.

“Oh, Eiji,” Dino groans, throwing his head back for a moment. “Oh you’re beautiful when you cum. Oh, I can’t wait to watch you do that again. Beautiful. Just beautiful.”

Eiji doesn’t know what to do. The heat of pleasure has quickly turned to shame, and he’s suddenly so nauseous he struggles not to gag. His hands are shaking again, he notices it because it travels up his arms and to his shoulders, and his injured shoulder aches against it.

“Say something!” Golzine orders. “Didn’t that feel good? Wasn’t that a good reward?”

He’s crying harder. He raises a hand to wipe at the tears and realizes too late that it’s the hand that’s coated in his semen. He raises his other, and it’s still broken, but he wipes his eyes on the softness of the bandages. “Yes, Papa,” he manages, his voice quivering.

“You’re a messy little boy now, aren’t you?” Golzine asks. “Would you like to take a shower?”

“Yes, Papa,” Eiji says.

Once upon a time, he imagined a life where he loved someone, and someone loved him, and they battled the odds together because love was enough to make everything worth fighting for.

Dino stands, and strips off his slacks, working next at his jacket, tie, and dress shirt. Soon, he is as naked as Eiji, and he motions towards the bathroom. “Lets go,” he says, almost kindly. “I know you’re injured. I will help you wash.”

Eiji nods obediently, still crying, his teeth clenched together so hard he’s certain they’ll break. Then he turns, letting Dino follow him. Once in the bathroom, Dino reaches in and turns the water hot, so hot that steam immediately begins to rise, so hot that it burns at Eiji’s skin as he steps in.

He doesn’t mind.

Dino follows, pushing against Eiji long enough to press a kiss to his lips, then he bends for the soap, and begins to rub it against Eiji’s body.

Once upon a time, everything was worth fighting for.

But Eiji is nothing.

Eiji sleeps.

Eiji wakes up.

Eiji showers.

Eiji sleeps, he wakes up, Dino’s fucking him, helays, he showers, he eats, he sleeps, he wakes up, Dino’s fucking him, Dino’s fucking him, Dino’s fucking him.

It’s been weeks, or maybe it’s been days, or maybe it’s been months.

Eiji doesn’t know.

Eiji doesn’t care.

Golzine gives him clothes, and it makes Eiji sick that he’s grateful. That he says Thank you, Papa, that he means it, that he’s had this much stripped away from him in such a short amount of time that a simple pair of cotton sweatpants and a white t-shirt make feel absolutely indebted.

At some point, they led him from the room with the Degas ballerinas down, down, down to a small room in some sub-basement that has nothing more than a bed, a chest of drawers, and an attached bathroom. There’s a hollow memory of a time that he’d stayed in a shitty apartment with Ibe when they’d first arrived in New York--drab, worn carpets, beige bedspreads on two full size beds, and a full bathroom attached.

This is a little like that, except the carpets don’t smell of age, and the bedspread is a lustrous dark blue that Eiji is terrified of staining, and the bathroom lights are so bright that he can see exactly how small and hollow he is if he looks in the mirror.

He doesn’t look in the mirror.

Some days, Golzine has Eiji brought to him. Those days, Eiji tries to erase as much as he can--to disassociate in a way that he’s now recognized as a technique Ash would use.

Most days, he’s left here in this hotel-like room all day long. Twice a day, there is a knock at his door and then it opens, revealing a man with a plate of food. The man never looks at Eiji, he just walks in, places the tray on top of the dresser, then walks back out again as the lock clicks on the door. These days are the worst.

These are the days that black despair swallows him whole and all he can think about is death. All he can think about is how much he wants to die.

***

Eiji’s asleep when they come for him.

The door opens without the requisite knock of the servant, and hands are on him before he can even blink the fuzziness of dream from his eyes.

“Wait,” Eiji murmurs, confused and disoriented as they pull him off of the bed. “I will come, I am coming--”

“Shut up,” one of the men growls at him.

Eiji hates himself, but he obeys. His wrist has healed enough that the doctor only has a simple splint around it, he’s no longer peeing blood, his face has healed enough that there is only the barest trace of yellow bruising. He’s tired of being hurt, and so he obeys.

They pull him down the hall to another room with a shower, and Eiji has a foggy memory of being here before, of being here last week or last month, or whenever it was that he’d first been born in this hell. Marvin was there then. Marvin is here now.

“Awww, little boy lost all his fire,” Marvin croons as he leans against the wall, watching Eiji step into the shower. “Last time I saw you, you were at least trying to fight. But...a whore’s a whore’s a whore.”

Eiji looks down at his feet as the water turns on, watches the spray of it hit the shower floor. Even here, in the lowest of Golzine’s mansion, the shower is immaculate--river rock sparkles, scattered below his toes.

“Nothing to say?”

Eiji shakes his head.

Marvin chuckles, then reaches a hand out, palm smacking against Eiji’s butt before trailing down his backside then up the curve of his inner thigh.

“Not much there,” he laughs, hand closing around Eiji’s penis.

Eiji closes his eyes and tries not to think about anything but the sound of water hitting rock.

“Come ‘ere’ sweetheart,” Marvin croons, hand squeezing tighter.

There’s nothing left of him, just a hollow shell. Eiji swallows, then steps closer, trying his best to ignore the other men at the door.

“Hard to see what Golzine sees in you.” Marvin’s fingers move along the shaft of Eiji’s penis, coaxing a response.

He’s nothing, he’s nothing, he’s nothing…

Eiji starts to grow hard, and his fingers clench into fists at his side.

“Too old,” Marvin says, hand moving between Eiji’s legs. “Too skinny. Too fucking yellow.”

“Stop,” Eiji murmurs, then squeezes his eyes closed.”

“What did you say?”

Eiji doesn’t repeat it, just freezes under the spray of the water, refusing to move. Marvin can’t do anything. He belongs to Golzine, Marvin can’t hurt him, he can’t, he can’t, he can’t--

“Look at me,” Marvin orders.

Eiji’s eyes flicker up and he swallows hard, watching the way Marvin starts to scowl.

“Make no mistake, sweetheart,” Marvin growls, “the second Golzine grows tired of little shits like you? He throws you to the Club. And once you’re in the Club?” His smile snakes up to his cheeks, little feral eyes growing wide with lust. “You’re mine.”

Eiji looks down again and tries not to move.

“Mine,” Marvin says, stroking harder and harder at Eiji’s cock.

Nothing happens. Eiji’s hard, but it feels like nothing, he can’t manage to make himself care.

Finally, Marvin drops his hand in disgust. “You’ll pay for this,” he murmurs, voice low and full of rage. “Wash yourself.”

Pay for what? Eiji wants to ask. He’s paying. He’s been humiliated, he’s been shamed, he’s nothing. He wants to die. There’s nothing left to take from him.

He soaps between his legs, and he scrubs at his hair, at his legs, at his balls, at his ass. There’s no more shame, there’s just one breath at a time that he wishes he could stop.

He hates them all so much.

Eventually, Marvin reaches over and flips the water off. Eiji steps out of the shower. They dry him, they dress him in a black suit that’s stiff, that’s expensive, that’s terrifying.

Someone forces a cup to his mouth, and Eiji finds himself drinking something that almost tastes like water, but has just a hint of bitterness.

And they lead him up an elevator, to a floor he’s never been on, to a hallway he’s never seen, to a room where Golzine is waiting.

The walls are full of books from floor to ceiling and there’s a stone fireplace on the far side of the room, fire roaring at the hearth. Golzine sits there in a chair upholstered in red velvets that’s so dark it’s almost black.

“Eiji,” Golzine purrs from the chair. “Eiji, my little pole vaulter.”

Someone nudges at Eiji’s back, and he walks forward obediently, knowing exactly what is expected of him.

“Papa,” Eiji murmurs, watching the floor as he comes to a stop at Golzine’s feet.

“Kneel.”

“Yes, Papa.”

Golzine reaches out and gently taps fingers underneath Eiji’s chin.

Eiji looks up.

“I have a little project for you, my boy.”

“Yes, Papa.”

“I have a number of important...guests this evening.”

Eiji blinks, and it’s suddenly hard to swallow. He feels wrong. Heavy. Swollen in a way that makes every moment just a little slower than it should be.

“Eyes up,” Golzine orders, and Eiji realizes he’s looked away--he’s disobeyed! He forces his eyes back to Golzines face. “Yes, Papa.”

Golzine frowns. “As I was saying. Important guests. We will have dinner. They will want to see you. You are special to me, you are my newest...hmmm”

Golzine looks up, thinking for a moment as his mouth tightens, and Eiji doesn’t look away.

“My newest toy,” Golzine settles upon.

The hard line of his mouth slowly pulls up into a grin, and Eiji can see just a hint of teeth.

“I need not impress upon you the importance of this meeting,” he continues. “You will sit at my feet, and you will listen, and you will not say a word.”

“Yes, Papa.”

“One of my guests would like to sample your services. You will stand, and you will obey him exactly as you obey me, yes?”

Eiji’s heart is thumping against the wall of his chest as his blood turns to ice.

“Answer me, you stupid, stupid boy,” Golzine growls.

“Yes, Papa,” Eiji said. His voice is too quiet and far too meek. He can barely recognize the sound of it.

“Good.” Golzine’s hand drops as he stands. “Leave us,” he barks to the men still standing at the door. He waits for the thump of the door closing before his hands move to the zipper at his perfectly pressed grey suit pants.

Eiji closes his eyes, then crawls forward on his knees, nuzzling his nose against the growing bulge.

“Good boy,” Golzine says, voice gone thick with lust. His fingers work at the zipper, and his cock grows even bigger.

Soon, he works it free from his pants and the head brushes against Eiji’s cheek, leaving a smear of wetness next to his mouth.

Eiji wants to die.

He wants to jump up, and scream, and hit Golzine as hard as he possibly can, and run and run and run until he finds a gun that he can press against the side of his temple and end it.

Golzine strokes himself once, giving a shallow moan. “Open,” he orders.

Eiji opens his mouth and carefully tongues along the length of Golzine’s cock, licking up the pearling pre-cum from the tip before swallowing him down whole.

He’s getting better. He rarely gags anymore.

Golzine’s hand threads around the back of Eiji’s head and pulls him forward, until Eiji’s nose is brushing against the thin wiry hair at Golzine’s groin. It’s grey with age, and Eiji can smell musky sweat as Golzine’s cock hits the back of his throat.

He swallows and swallows and swallows, and his hand comes up at Golzine’s thigh, trying to push back enough to get some air, to breathe again, he can’t breathe--

Gozline lets up as his hips move back before thrusting forward again.

Eiji blinks tears from his eyes and opens his mouth wider, letting Golzine thrust again and again, waiting for the bitter splash of cum that he’ll swallow down without complaint.

Ash would have fought, he thinks.

He’s not Ash. He’s weak.

Weak, weak, weak.

Eiji wants to die.

***

Golzine pulls Eiji to his feet when they are done--straightening out the collar of Eiji’s dress suit, circling him and appraising him with glinting eyes.

“Very nice,” he says once, lips brushing against Eiji’s neck.

Eiji has to fight every instinct he has not to flinch.

Golzine’s fingers trail from Eiji’s neck down his back. They reach underneath the suit jacket and press against his belly, then push underneath the waistband of his stiff, black suit pants.

Why, Eiji wants to ask.

Instead, he swallows the thought down. Everything is starting to feel so heavy he can barely think. Blinking takes work. Breathing takes work. The entire room is fuzzing at the edges, tilting just enough that Eiji is terrified he’s going to fall.

There’s a click around his neck, and the awful metal collar that he’s been wearing since the day he got here falls free. He raises a hand to his neck subconsciously, scratching at the raw skin.

Golzine smacks it away with a growl.

“Sorry,” Eiji murmurs, then flinches. “I am sorry, Papa,” he amends.

Even speaking is hard. Whatever drug they gave him is swirling through his system with a vengeance and he’s too hot. Every brush of Dino’s fingers is electric and Eiji leans towards him without realizing, desperate for the tingling relief that his touch provides.

“What,” Eiji tries to say, but his mouth feels so swollen he can barely make words.

“Don’t worry,” Dino whispers. His hands are at Eiji’s neck now, and there’s a new click of sound. A new collar then--one that allows Eiji to breathe.

“Relax, beautiful boy.” There’s another click against his throat, and the Dino steps back. There’s a glittering thread he’s holding between his fingers--a metal leash that’s so delicate Eiji can barely see it at all.

Dino hums in appreciation, then gives the smallest tug.

There’s no choice but to follow. He’s too tired for obstinacy, and he just wants to obey, obey, obey so that no one hurts him anymore.

Golzine leads him over to the fireplace. There’s a large mirror hanging on the wall beside the stone, gilded in gold filigree. Eiji stops when Golzine stops.

“Beautiful,” Golzine repeats, his fingers back at Eiji’s neck, running along the thin silver band.

Eiji swallows hard.

He’s not beautiful. He looks young, and frightened, and so, so small. The circlet at his throat glints from the light of the fire next to him, and the chain in Dino’s hand still sparkles, and the suit he’s in is nicer than anything he’s ever worn before.

There’s a knock at the door, and then it opens, another servant stepping inside.

“Sir,” he says. “You’re guests have been seated.”

Golzine does nothing more than give the tiniest nod of his head, then he’s tugging on Eiji’s chain, and Eiji is following. He’s too hot.

He’s too dizzy.

He’s absolutely terrified.

***

There are six men sitting at a table that has to be at least 20 feet in length. They all stand as Golzine walks in the room, all give small nods of deference before sitting back down again as soon as Golzine signals.

Three are in linen suits--similar to the one that Golzine seems to favor. One of them is a bit younger, with golden red hair that looks like Max’s.

Eiji swallows hard, blinking that image away. One man wears a suit of black velvet. His eyes are frigid blue, his mouth settles in a tight line as soon as he sees Eiji, and he turns away quickly.

The other two wear dark navy suits. They are both older--hair graying at the temples, bellies pushing at the waistbands of their pants. One can’t take his eyes off of Eiji, following his every move. His mustache moves as he licks his lips, and his cheeks are tinged the dark red of an alcoholic.

Eiji’s eyes drop to the floor and clenches his fists hard at his sides.

“Welcome,” Golzine says in a darkly booming voice. “I trust you’ve been taken care of?” He waits for a servant to pull out the head chair, then sits, tugging at Eiji’s leash again and pulling him closer.

Eiji stumbles along, not sure what he should do.

“Beautiful boy,” one of the men comments. “So...exotic.”

Eiji’s stomach turns over, and he tries to tamp down on the memories of Golzine saying that word...memories of Golzine thrusting into him so hard he couldn’t breathe.

Memories of screaming Ash’s name.

“Yes, well,” Golzine is saying, jerking Eiji back to attention. “I believe you are familiar with my son?”

The man with the dark blue suit and the mustache, and the terrible, terrible eyes begins to grin.

“Ah yes. How is Aslan doing? I’m quite surprised he isn’t in attendance at this little reunion.”

Golzine gives another tug, and Eiji still doesn’t know what to do, and then the leash is yanked down so hard he gasps, falling to his knees.

“Stupid boy,” Golzine mutters, glaring down at him.

“I’m sorry,” Eiji murmurs, looking at the floor. There is a small circle of carpeting there, rich and luscious blood red like so many things in this manse. His heart is starting to beat frantically against his chest when he realizes that he is supposed to kneel there, that he should have realized he is supposed to kneel there, that every single breath he takes is wrong, wrong, wrong.

Golzine will punish him later.

“Aslan has made some rather poor choices lately. Seems to have gotten quite a taste for rebellion.”

The men at the table all agree, humming and nodding their heads.

All Eiji can think about is how Golzine makes Ash sound like nothing more than a pet dog, and how Ash is so much more than that.

The leash tugs again, up this time, and Golzine reaches down and hooks fingers around Eiji’s jaw.

“Aslan will be punished. For now, he’s delivered me a gorgeous piece to add to my collection.”

His fingers tighten further and Eiji fights not to struggle.

“This little foreigner thought himself quite prized. Isn’t it funny how quickly my Lynx leaves his prey? Senator Kippard?”

The awful man in blue nods.

“I know your taste in boys leans younger, but I assure you, this one is well worth your time.” Golzine smiles, lips curling dangerously, and he releases his grip on Eiji’s jaw and then holds out the leash.

Eiji’s heart is bursting so fast he’s certain it will burst at any moment. He shakes his head no, then bites down on his lower lip hard hoping that Golzine didn’t notice, didn’t see such a tiny act of rebellion.

Kippard stands and takes the leash, tugging just enough for Eiji to stand. Then he walks back to his chair, sits easily, and pats his lap.

No. No, no, no, no, no, no-- “Eiji,” Golzine warns, voice low and dangerous.

Eiji’s fighting so hard not to cry now. Everyone is watching him, everyone is looking at him, everyone knows exactly how low Eiji is.

“Come on, sweet boy,” Kippard says, patting his thigh again.

Eiji takes a tentative step forward as his hands start to shake at his sides.

That’s all the response Kippard needs. He reaches out and grabs Eiji by the waist, pulling him close and forcing Eiji to sit facing himself.

“You have good taste,” Kippard says to Golzine. “He is quite striking.” He places a hand against Eiji’s cheek, running a finger from jaw to neck. “Open,” he murmurs, this time to Eiji.

Eiji can’t breathe.

Everything is still too hot, the entire room is swaying so much around him he’s terrified that he’s about to be sick, and…

He’s hard.

Kippard’s knee moves ever so slightly, and Eiji’s hard, he can feel the rub of it, and he doesn’t know what’s happening.

I don’t want this, he thinks.

I don’t want this.

But he’s hard.

“Open,” Kippard says again, harsher this time.

A tiny sob slips from his mouth, but Eiji opens. Kippards fingers are fat, and taste of sweat and salt and cigar, and he pushes them all the way inside, feeling every ridge of Eiji’s teeth and gums, before pressing against the very back of his tongue.

Eiji gags, and Kippard pulls away with disgust.

“Not particularly trained,” he comments.

Eiji feels like an animal, and he hates the way that shame is spreading hot through his entire body.

“He’s new,” Golzine agrees. “But he screams beautifully.”

Kippard reaches down and squeezes Eiji’s cock through his pants.

Eiji’s trying to pull away, he’s making a horrible whimpering noise, and he’s trying to look back to Golzine. He wants to be good. He’s trying so hard to be good, he doesn’t want to hurt anymore, but Golzine starts to laugh, and Kippard just squeezes harder, and the five other men don’t say a word, they just watch and watch and watch.

“Look at me, beautiful boy,” Kippard purrs, other hand snaking around Eiji’s neck and pulling him close. “You’re so hard for me,” he murmurs, lips brushing against Eiji’s.

Eiji can taste the cigar now, and can smell the wine coming off of his breath. Kippards fingers at his cock release, and Eiji almost sobs in relief.

“You want me to fuck you, beautiful boy?” he asks with a groan.

His mustache bristles against Eiji’s lips and it feels like Golzine. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what Golzine wants, his brain isn’t working, every thought is fragmented and disjointed.

Kippard keeps smiling, but he reaches back and--

Smack.

Eiji rocks back with the force of Kippard’s sudden blow and gives a little cry of dismay as the leash pulls tight around his throat, forcing him forward again.

“I asked you a question,” he says.

His voice is not nice anymore. It’s angry, and tight, and the way Kippard keeps smiling makes Eiji cringe in on himself.

“Yes,” Eiji whispers, forcing his hands to still at his thighs. There’s blood dripping down his lip now, and he can feel the way his teeth cut into the side of his cheek--he can taste blood pooling in his mouth.

“Well?” Golzine asks.

“He needs to be trained,” Kippard says with disgust, but his eyes never leave Eiji’s. “But he’ll do.”

“Good.”

The doors open, the smell of savory meat fills the room, and Eiji can see servants from the corner of his eye begin to place food at the table.

He swallows down a mouthful of blood, and his cock is still hard against Kippard’s thigh, and he doesn’t know why.

He doesn’t understand.

I don’t want this.

Kippard pulls him forward again and kisses Eiji deeply. When he leans back again, Eiji can see his own blood on Kippard’s lips.

“Down,” Kippard orders, spreading his legs wider.

The shame is back, heavy and roiling in Eiji’s throat as he’s forced to his knees at Kippard’s feet.

“Suck,” Kippard orders.

The press of Kippard’s hard cock is outlined in his suit pants. He can hear the sounds of silverware hitting plates as the men began to eat, he can still smell the steak.

Eiji reaches trembling hands forward, and unzips Kippard’s pants.