Story Notes:Written circa 2002. Lyrics from "Outside" by Staind.
Chapter Notes: Atrocious is only one word I could use to describe this fic, though it hardly does the job. All the classic elements of a truly shit fic you have found in here: interspersed angsty song lyrics, pointless bondage, bastard!seme, aka He Who Can Never Be Loved, weepy OOC Ryo, typical abusive lemon fic phrases, the works. I deserve a Purple Heart for posting this offensive piece of fiction, but I did it for a reason. To show people that talented writers are not born, they are made. Take note, young authors. This is what you DON'T want to do.
And you bring me to my knees again.
It seemed like not very long ago he was in the same position, kneeled before someone whom he couldn’t decide was friend, lover or enemy and massaging the hot flesh in his mouth with his tongue. He heard a grunt above him and a heavy hand rested on top of his head, pushing him down and forcing it deeper into his mouth. Tears squeezed from his blue eyes as he opened his throat and took him in. He didn’t really want this, no, not this. He would give anything just to wake up and have it all erased from his mind. But that was foolishness, and this was reality.
All the times that I could beg you please in vain.
He whimpered in shame and the hand on his head suddenly formed a fist and pulled his dark hair painfully. He tried not to make any more noise for he knew how much it displeased him to hear him crying.
It wouldn’t be long now. A few more strokes of the tongue should take care of it, but the clenched hand knotted in his hair jerked him back, freeing the flesh from his aching mouth. He gasped for breath and looked up into the lavender eyes of his tormentor, who smiled smugly.
“You’re getting much better, Ryo. Quick to learn and slow to forget, I like that.”
Ryo, dark locks falling over his forehead and eyes, nodded mutely. Afraid to speak, afraid to move, afraid to breathe.
All the times that I felt insecure for you.
The hand left his head and stroked his hot cheek, the hand so smooth and cool. Just like Sage. Ryo closed his eyes and felt his heart pound.
“Get up,” came the command and Ryo slowly stood to his feet, teetering on weak legs and his almost bare body shivering in the air. Sage watched him with an amused grin and ran and hand lightly down Ryo’s well-toned chest, brushing the silky smooth nipples enough to make them harden and lingering to tease them gently. Ryo swallowed and tried not to watch what Sage did to him. These things had a way of turning up in his dreams.
Ryo obediently stepped closer, keeping his head down. He could not bear to look at Sage’s pale-colored eyes any more than he could bear to look at the painful collaboration of leather and metal that he wore below his waist, or the steel buckled straps that crisscrossed over his chest. No only that, but a stiff leather cuff went around his neck and down the middle of his back, holding his wrists locked firmly behind him. He had never felt so helpless in his life.
“I think you’ve been wearing this long enough,” Sage said coolly, undoing the assortment of straps and leather holding Ryo's body imprisoned.
“But this stays on.” He gave a tap to the leather collar around Ryo’s neck and made certain that it was still secure.
Ryo himself was unsure of how long he had been uncomfortably bound but it must have been a long time — his arms ached when they were freed and red marks embedded on his skin told tale of how tightly the thongs had been secured.
But I leave my burdens at the door.
Ryo’s slight return to something close to comfort was momentary. Sage took him by the chin and stared into his eyes with an unblinking, calculating gaze. Sizing him up, mentally measuring him. As much as Ryo hated looking at Sage, he forced himself to.
Eyes so pale they seemed almost colorless stared back at him. Bland, cold, unsympathetic and uncaring, drained of hue and life they were. He felt as if he were looking through a glass pane and he remembered someone telling him that the eyes were the windows to the soul. If so, Ryo was disturbed by what he saw, or lack of what he saw more correctly. There was nothing there. Just a shallow shell that he was looking straight through. Was this really Sage Datier, or was Ryo just seeing another side of him that only he had the pleasure of seeing? It was not a nice side. It was horrible, and how horrible it was that someone so gorgeous on the outside could be so ugly on the inside.
But I’m on the outside and I’m looking in. I can see through you, see your true colors.
As if reading his thoughts, Sage smiled maliciously and grabbed a fistful of Ryo’s ebony locks, pulling his head back and wrapping a tight arm about his bare waist. He leaned against Ryo’s neck and breathed hot, dark words onto his skin.
“Come to bed with me.”
Ryo gulped as Sage kissed the nape of his neck and closed his eyes. You’re not a slut, Ryo. You’re not his whore. Don’t think you are ‘cause if you do then he wins. Don’t let him win. Don’t become another Seiji, don’t become like he is. Fucked up on the inside, unable to show love toward anything. All he does is fuck things, in every meaning of the word. Don’t let him have you . . . but why else would he want me if I weren’t like him?
‘Cause inside you’re ugly, you’re ugly like me.
The comforting thoughts with which he coached himself were in vain. He felt like a slut, and that was all it took. Sage pushed Ryo onto the bed and crawled on top of him, swinging one leg over his hips and sitting on his legs. Ryo felt his arms tingle and he wiggled his fingers to drive away the eminent numbness that would overtake them soon. Tears of helplessness, humiliation and indignity swelled up in Ryo’s sapphire blue eyes and he, for once, glared at Sage as if he were the most despicable creature on the face of the planet.
I can see through you, see to the real you.
Sage smirked. “Don’t look at me like you hate me.” He leaned close to Ryo’s ear and murmured, “As soon as I start shoving my cock up into your little boy-pussy you’ll be screaming my name just like you did last time, and every single time before.”
Ryo sucked in a sob of air. Even his ears were raped by Sage’s unforgiving onslaught. The blond shifted his weight, raised himself up and pried Ryo’s thighs apart with his knee.
Spreading me open, Ryo thought weakly. He’s gonna fuck me from the inside out . . . Ryo felt his sex stiffen unwillingly. Maybe I really do like this. Maybe I really do want this . . . oh God, what’s wrong with me?
Sage leaned down and swallowed Ryo’s cock into his mouth, raking his teeth painfully against the sensitive flesh and kneading it with his tongue roughly. Ryo bit his lip to keep from screaming for mercy, or worse, Sage’s name.
Oh please make it quick, make it end, make it go fast so I won’t remember it . . .
All the times that I felt like this won’t end was for you.
Ryo tried to convince himself that he did not like what Sage was doing to him, even though his body responded to the arousing touches. He hated it, his body. Was it the reason that Sage started negotiating sexual advances on him? Was it Ryo’s fault for lacking the ability to say no? Or did he secretly want this?
Ryo dared to open his frightened blue eyes and gaze down at Sage, pleasuring him forcefully. What did he feel? Did he love Ryo? Did Ryo love him? Why would any of this horrible sex, this emotional rape, bear any signs of a pure thing like love? Why?
“Nnhh.” Ryo clenched his teeth and his hips jumped reflexively, emptying himself into Sage’s mouth. He held it, savored it like a fine wine before swallowing it down, releasing Ryo’s softening cock and looking up at him with a sly grin.
“If I could make you come more than once, I would probably be sucking you all day.”
Ryo blushed hotly and looked away.
“Hm. Your face is on fire, Wildfire. Are you that shy?” The words rolled off Sage’s tongue in a dark, murky voice like velveteen and he crawled up Ryo’s torso and pressed his lips to his unwilling lover’s. Ryo turned his head but Sage followed him and captured his mouth again, forcing his tongue inside. Ryo couldn’t help but think that in a few minutes Sage would be forcing another body part into him. Ryo made the sound of a strangled sob in the back of his throat and drank in the aftertaste of his own heady essence mixed with Sage’s saliva.
He wished his arms were free. They struggled futilely against their leather bonds and added on to his feeling of immense handicap. He wanted to hug Sage. He wanted to wrap his arms around him and at least show that half of this relationship cared. He thought that maybe if he were able to embrace his “foe” that he might bring about a change, that he might ease that dirty feeling in the back of his mind that he was being raped for the hundredth time by the same person. But Sage must not want love; he always had Ryo’s arms tied securely and no amount of pleading and begging could loosen them an inch.
Ryo broke his mouth away and gasped, “I want to love you.”
He saw Sage’s eyebrow ascend up onto his forehead in indignant perplexion, mouth drawn in a tight, stiff line. “No you don’t.”
Though Ryo had promised himself that after the third or fourth time of this that he would stop crying, the tears came out and rolled ceaselessly down the side of his face. He wriggled helplessly.
“Let me go. Let me go, I want to love you. I’m willing now. You don’t have to tie me up — I, I’ll do whatever you tell me to do but j-just let me g-go.” He swallowed and added in a small voice, “Please. Please, Seiji.”
Sage stared at him dispassionately. “You don’t want to love me. Nobody does.”
“Is that why?” Ryo choked. “Is that why you . . . you take me against my will?”
“Why would I take you if you only end up giving yourself to me anyway? ” Sage growled, pinning Ryo’s shoulders down. “Ryo,” he added with malice in his voice.
“What?” came the small, tender whisper. “What if . . . What would you do if I told you that the more times you do this to me the more I fall in love with you?”
A slap to the face was his answer, and Ryo turned his head and took deep breaths to keep from bawling like a child being told that he can’t hold the beautiful butterfly because he would crush when he tried to embrace it. Like the soft looking blanket that mother made but had to be kept away so that it would last forever. Like a pretty doll that could never be played with for fear of it being spoiled. That was what it was. So that was it.
And I taste what I could never have, it’s from you.
“You little . . . you stupid-” Sage uttered, voice cracking as he grabbed Ryo’s legs and pushed his knees up to his chest, preparing for the act. Tears slid down Ryo's face silently and thought he was becoming quite good at it by this time. The sight of Ryo’s tears boiled something within Sage, who acted in rage but spoke in a sorrowful tone.
“Stupid little Ryo. When will you learn that nobody can love me?”
He slid his hips forward and in one fluid moment and was inside Ryo’s body. The dark-haired boy cried out at first but soon fell quiet as Sage grunted, going in and out of him savagely.
All the times that I’ve cried, all this wasted, it’s all inside.
Each thrust hurt more than the last, penetrating deeper and ripping him wider. It was so shameful, a shame burning and awful, to endure this kind of treatment. But Ryo was born, trained, taught, tutored and instructed to endure, to persevere through much suffering, physical, spiritual and mental. He had seen the color of Hell for himself but somehow, someway, he would rather see Hell again and possibly forever in exchange for all this torment.
And I feel a ll this pain, stuffed it down, it’s back again.
Eyes closed. Teeth clenched. Skin burning. Insides churning. What to do, what to do. What could make Sage stop? What could make him stop?
“God, Seiji, I love you.”
Ryo felt a hand strike against his face again, but not as hard as last time.
“I swear that I love you.”
“Shut up, Ryo. No one can love me.”
“I can if you would let me.”
Hands were suddenly around his throat and Ryo opened his eyes to see Sage hovering above him, looking torn between anger and anguish.
“Go ahead,” Ryo snapped. “I dare you. You don’t have the fucking guts.”
Sage’s lavender eyes went wide, blinking in shock, unable to believe what he had just heard. He scowled and tightened his grip, but Ryo stared back at him coldly that made it impossible to grip any further.
“Don’t tempt me, Ryo.”
“Isn’t that the very thing that brought you here?” Ryo parried. “Your temptation for me?”
Sage smiled smugly. “So, you’re not as naïve as you look.”
“I know how you work, Seiji.”
“Stop calling me Seiji.”
“Why? ‘Cause it’s your real name? ‘Cause it’s too personal? Well guess what Seiji, you having sex with my body is something that I would call personal, too.”
Sage sat up off of Ryo with a snarl; the dark-haired boy closed his eyes, thankful at least that the physical abuse was over, or at least postponed. Sage glared angrily at the floor, unnerved by the stinging words that his usually passive lover would withhold.
Ryo grinned, watching him. “You may be able to have my body, but you will never have my mind.”
Sage turned his head and glared at him. For once, it seemed, it appeared to be sinking in. At last. If Ryo could just make him see . . . but he would want to have to see it first. Ryo sat up with a grunt and crawled behind Sage, resting his cheek on his shoulder.
“Is this what I get,” Sage mumbled. “As punishment? A permanent life with you and your goddamned optimism?”
“It’s my curse,” Ryo whispered. “Now it’s yours, too.”
And then the silence spoke, a mixed swirl of their thoughts. Should have thought twice, should have known was I was getting into . . .
You like to screw around. You’re afraid of commitment, you’re too afraid of losing yourself and too selfish to let go of your ego . . .
Should have never laid a finger on you, not you . . .
Sage turned around and faced Ryo and despite his nude, ruffled and ravaged state he still retained that expression of innocence. It made Sage jealous. How did he do that? After all he’s been though as a warrior, how can he even sleep at night? Sage raised his hands to Ryo’s neck, undoing the clasps and reaching behind him to untie the leather thongs holding him imprisoned. Once freed, he would see the true fury of the bearer of the Wildfire armor . . . but the fury never came.
Ryo sat back on his legs and flexed his aching arms. As much as he wanted to jump on top of Sage and just begin to kill him with his bare hands, he opted for perhaps the most unsettling form of punch-back: he leaned forward and kissed Sage on the cheek.
Sage jumped off the bed, surprised, frustrated and angry. “What the hell do you want from me, Sanada?”
“You know what I want.” He narrowed his eyes. “And you knew the moment you first laid me down in your bed.”
Sage turned his back to him, brushed his hair out of his eyes and tucked himself in, then opened the bedroom door, walked out and slammed it behind him.
And I lie here in bed all alone, I can’t mend.
The silence loomed suddenly and Ryo ran a hand through his raven locks and sighed. He tossed his leather bonds from the bed and pulled the blankets over his body, curling down into the softness.
He hadn’t fixed it yet — he was still working on him. It would take more than a night to fix Sage, but at least he was getting somewhere now. At least he had finally found the guts to face him. It made him feel good, certainly not on the outside where all sorts of pain and humiliation lay, but on the inside. The one place that Sage could never reach with his stunted and crippled emotional baggage.
Ryo sighed, closed his eyes and went to sleep.
But I feel tomorrow will be okay.