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Miwaku no Zakuro	By : Tcharlatan Category: > Kyo/Kaoru Views: 2861 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of pure fiction. I do not personally know any of the members of Dir en grey, X Japan, or KISAKI, and do not profit from this work.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
Standing in the center of Kaoru’s bathroom, Kyo stared at his own reflection with a hollow gaze. He looked… an awful lot like how he felt, actually, and the veracity of it was almost startling. He was battered. Exhausted. Worn. The self-inflicted scratch wounds across his chest were stark red against the pallor of his skin, his ribs just a little more visible than they’d once been over the gentle swell of his newly-full belly. His knees trembled with grief and fatigue, hands clutching weakly at his sides as he crossed his arms defensively over himself, his shoulders weighed down into an exhausted slump that had never been there before. His eyes were ringed with tired black shadows, and he found he couldn’t even look at them without shame turning his stomach. What he’d just done… what he’d just allowed to be done to him… what he’d just participated in…
‘I’m not a… not a whore…’
‘I’m not!’
‘Except… I just…’
Kaoru’s hands came up to disengage his pet’s collar. “Would you like to shower alone or with me tonight?”
Kyo shuddered, letting his eyes shut against the pitiful image of himself in the mirror. “Alone. …Please.” The weak defeat in his voice was sickening to his own ears.
“As you will. You have ten minutes, pet.”
Kyo was quick to oblige, ducking into the shower stall and turning the water on as hot as he could stand it. Countered by the chill in his heart, the spray was scalding, and his skin flushed immediately under the assault, causing a shiver to work its way up his spine. He savored the bitter sting. Collecting the soap from the rack with shaking hands, he scrubbed himself brutally, wishing he could erase the memory of his captor’s unwelcome touch – on him, around him, inside him – from his quivering flesh. He couldn’t find it in him to really damage himself the way he wanted to, not with his captor’s warning still fresh on his mind. Couldn’t sink the sharp edge of a fingernail or – gods help him – a razor into his wrists or chest or thighs to bleed out some the turmoil roiling inside. But he could burn, just a little, and he could scrub until every centimeter of his skin was pink and new, and he did just that for every last second of his ten minutes.
“Time’s up. Come here.”
Flinching, Kyo complied silently. Once again, Kaoru wrapped his hands around his captive’s waist and hoisted the younger man up to sit on the counter, a plush towel beneath to catch the water dripping off of him. Kyo shivered unhappily as the man cleaned and dressed all of his wounds with a gentle touch, turning his face away to hide from Kaoru’s obvious pleasure at his obedience. His collar was returned to its place at his throat, he was allowed to brush his teeth and hair, and he was returned to his cell, folding himself into his corner as the door clicked shut behind his captor’s retreating back. It was only six in the evening, the light overhead still bright, but he couldn’t remember a time he’d ever been so physically and emotionally drained. Sending off a silent prayer for his own dying humanity, he rested his head against his knees and drifted off to sleep.
He dreamt, in the creeping hours between when he was left and when the false dawn of his overhead light would wake him. Cruel, fitful dreams that made him cry out in his sleep, his collar shocking him awake in merciless retribution for every plaintive noise that escaped him. He dreamt of those he’d loved the most and been forsaken by – his parents, his sister, Takara, Kisaki – walking away from him in disgust and never looking back. Of cruel, unwanted hands sliding over his flesh, handfuls of money shoved into his screaming mouth in payment for his spread legs. Of being locked in a giant birdcage, rattling the bars in a fit of unadulterated panic as a spider the size of a horse prowled behind him. But as erratic as the sleep was, the rest that he did get was deeply healing, and he didn’t fully awaken until twelve hours later, when the light brightened again.
In his waking hours, he tried to get past what had happened the night before; to push it to the back of his mind and lock it away where it couldn’t hurt him anymore than it already had. At seven o’clock, he crawled to the wall, just as he had the previous morning, to press his ear against the wall and capture every last snippet of Kaoru’s showering music that he possibly could, soaking up the blessed distraction. When the sounds of his captor preparing for the day faded, he tried to focus on other things. Nine o’clock: he tried to examine every last wall, corner, and floorboard of his room again, for some way to escape. Ten o’clock: he tried to pray to gods he wasn’t even sure could hear him in this miserable place, cross-legged in the center of the cell, hands pressed together tight against his forehead. Eleven thirty: he tried to let his mind be as blank as it had been when he was starving and sleep-deprived, to spare himself the derision of his own cruel mind.
‘Fucking whore.'
It didn’t work.
‘I didn’t want to…’
Twelve o’clock: he fell to his knees, wincing at the soreness lingering in his lower back, the exhausted quiver still making his legs feel like warm rubber. The well-known, once-savored sensations of having been thoroughly fucked the night before, demanding his attention, never letting him forget what had happened. He wished with every fiber of his being that he could scream; let lose the wild howl coiled waiting at the back of his throat, ready and willing to drown out his own vicious thoughts. But he couldn’t do it, not with the collar ever threatening him, not with the chance of Kaoru returning from work to deal with his fits of temper.
‘Didn’t want to what?’
‘Spread your damn legs for the chance to eat from his hand like a fucking dog?!’
‘Cause you did!’
‘He didn’t rape you, you just fucking offered up!’
One o’clock: shaking his head, tears streaming down his cheeks, he pulled at his hair mercilessly, relishing the pain. It wasn’t enough, could never be enough punishment for this latest sin, but it was something, and he pulled until pale gold strands came loose in his fingers. He felt himself twisting on the razor’s edge between despair and rage, each vying for the right to rip at his racing heart as he fought with himself.
‘I didn’t want to starve!’
‘I have to live…’
‘I have to give him what he wants, or he’ll kill me!’
Two o’clock: baring his teeth in a furious snarl, he slammed his left fist into the wall. He had always been, at the heart of himself, a deeply prideful creature, adamant about never compromising who he was for what others wanted him to be. Growing up the way he had – so slight of frame, with a unisex name and a soft face – had instilled in him the need to constantly assert his masculinity, his strength, because it was so often called to question. He’d always had trouble taking slights against his dignity with any kind of grace or calm, and being reduced to a simpering fucktoy was the most galling slight he’d ever suffered.
‘Bullshit.’
‘You were moaning like a bitch in heat.’
‘You were humping his fucking hand.’
‘You got off on it, you sick fucking piece of shit!’
Three o’clock: panting harshly, his eyes snapped open, and the warring sides of his mind seemed to fuse together into deadly clear insight. Kaoru had weakened him; bent him further and further to his nefarious will until something inside him began to splinter and crack. And he wanted so badly to pull himself back together, to find himself in the quivering mess of terror and shame that he was becoming before he broke for good. The fire in his eyes was slowly returning, but it was an uncontrolled blaze this time, lashing out with blind desperation to seek freedom from the smothering confines of his cell, his collar, his captor.
‘I have to get out of here.’
‘I can’t let him touch me again!’
‘I have to get out of here.’
Four o’clock: the door to his cell clicked open and wild eyes stayed glued to the floor, hidden beneath the golden fall of his bangs. It was unfortunate timing. If Kaoru had come earlier, when Kyo had been reduced to tears in his own shameful misery, or later, when he would maybe have been able to settle himself down into a more rational despair, things might not have been so bad. But everything had swirled together – his pain, his rage, his shame, his panic – into a vortex of all-consuming emotion. He’d been shaking in fear, exhaustion, hunger, and withdrawal since he’d awoken in Kaoru’s custody, but the tremors wracking him now were fueled purely by desperation. His anguish flared and burned away the last of his capacity for rational thought. He was nothing now but a cornered animal.
‘I have to-’
“Oh, you’re out of your corner,” Kaoru remarked, almost pleasantly.
His smugness made Kyo sick, and the blonde’s lip pulled up into a hateful sneer, hidden by his bowed head.
‘Don’t make him ang-’
‘I HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE!’
“Come on then. We’ll get you your dinner.”
Polished shoes came to a stop in front of Kyo, a thin hand came to rest lightly on the back of his head, and a switch was thrown. His feral gaze rose to meet his captor’s and Kaoru barely had time to register the silent snarl – his own features going cold as death in the space of a single heartbeat – before the diminutive blonde was flying up from the ground, his skull crashing against the older man’s face. Kaoru brought his arms up to defend against him, hissing at the flare of pain from his nose and lip even as the smaller man’s momentum drove them back out into the bedroom. Kaoru’s back was slammed against a low dresser, knocking a vase to the ground with a sharp crash, and he growled, eyes narrowed with venomous fury.
“Goddamn it!”
Kyo was quick to disengage and make a break for the bedroom door, but Kaoru caught him by the back of his collar and dragged him to the ground with a powerful yank. Kyo gagged and sputtered, hands coming up to grasp at the leather band cutting off his airways, and rolled to kick out at his captor, knocking the older man off-balance, but Kaoru was far too enraged to release his hold. They wrestled wildly, Kaoru’s superior size, strength, and skill balancing precariously against Kyo’s sheer adrenaline-fueled desperation and startling speed. From the doorway, two large men in crisp black suits poured in, having abandoned their posts outside Kaoru’s suite to rush to their master’s aid when they heard the sound of a struggle.
Kyo did not know how to fight – he’d always been staunchly nonviolent unless self-defense absolutely demanded it, and even then it took a lot to provoke him – and honestly, he wanted to run more than he wanted to hurt anyone. But Kaoru and his security enforcers had him surrounded, and he had been a dancer for years; possessed of all the prerequisite coordination, strength, and agility that the occupation demanded. It took the two guards several tries to get the blonde disengaged from their boss, unable to get and keep a grip on lithe, surprisingly-powerful limbs powered by a tempestuous determination. And when they did – supporting and restraining the smaller man by an arm each – the blonde let loose the only other weapon at his disposal. He threw his head back and shrieked with everything he had, his collar beeping over and over again, the flesh of his neck twitching grotesquely at the ever-ramping shocks.
“Fuck!”
Kaoru gritted his teeth and reeled away from the sound, so much worse in the confines of his room than it had been in the open air the night he’d brought Kyo home. One of the guards let go of the blonde’s arm to cover his ears, the other reaching out to try to cover his captive’s mouth. He was rewarded for his tenacity with sharp teeth sinking in gums-deep into his wrist, roaring as blood welled up rapidly around the blonde’s plush lips. The guard that had disengaged returned with a vengeance, grabbing Kyo’s arm again in one hand, his hair in the other, and forcing him facedown to the floor with one harsh movement. Kyo tried to scream again, frustration and pain wrenching inhuman sounds from his throat, but he was muffled now by the floor, and only managed to hurt himself as the collar punished him over and over until he fell silent, panting harshly for breath as he bucked futilely against the men holding him.
Kaoru stood, running one hand through his hair, eyes gone pitch black and cold as ice with wrath. His lip was bleeding, his jaw was bruised, and even his guards – easily twice his size and busy wrestling down a vicious hellcat – cowed under the fury in his glare. Drawing the back of one hand over his bloodied mouth, he stared down at the one frantic gold eye he could see peering out of a curtain of blond hair. For a moment, his hands flexed, itching to beat the younger man for his insolence; to wrap his fingers around that straining throat, to slam his fists into that panicked face, to grab that soft blond hair and smash the stubborn skull underneath into the wall again and again until Kyo learned his place. It took every last vestige of his self-control to stay the urge.
With a deep, stabilizing breath, Kaoru looked away and pointed at the open door to his pet’s room, snapping at his guards, “Put him away.”
Kyo was lifted from the floor – twisting and thrashing wildly in the stronger men’s grips – and thrown back into his cell, crashing to the floor in a flailing heap. He scrambled to his feet, rushing back towards the exit, but the door was slammed in his face before he got more than halfway there, and locked by the time he reached it. Another keening wail tried to force itself out of his chest, but the lingering threat of more shocks caused his throat to constrict involuntarily. His own body betrayed him now, conditioned by force to keep him voiceless as he pounded hysterically at the solid wooden panel, throwing himself against it over and over.
‘I HAVE TO GET OUT!’
‘I HAVE TO GET OUT!’
‘I HAVE TO-’
The light overhead went out and Kyo jerked around, eyes wide, panting harshly. It was fully off, not just dimmed as if for night, and he stared into the pitch darkness with more than a little panic. He couldn’t see anything – not the clock, not his hands in front of him, not even a thin outline of the door. The writhing mass of fury and panic in his chest quieted abruptly, sinking like a stone in his belly.
‘What… what’s happening?’
‘Why is the light off?!
‘Wh-'
-“Be happy with what you have, because in spite of what you might think, there’s always plenty more that I can take away from you.”-
‘…’
‘Oh…’
‘Oh gods…’
- 9
- 10
- 11
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Miwaku no Zakuro