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Back to Part 2.
On to Part 4.

Weiss and Schwarz do not belong to me. I'm borrowing them for my and (I hope) my readers' amusement only and have no intention of trying to make money off of them in any way, shape or form.

Warnings: Yaoi. Swearing. References to past child sexual abuse. Nonconsensual sex. Bondage. Although I'm setting this a couple of years past the main series, Nagi's age combined with his actions may squick some people. Also, I'm ignoring Gluhen and the drama CDs, so don't expect this to be consistent with them. This section's still under revision, so it may change somewhat.

Rating: NC-17

Pairings: Nagi x Yohji. References to Crawford x Aya-chan.

Author: The RCK
Last updated: 12 February 2003

Thanks to Amy the Evitable and Briar Rose for beta reading this chapter.


rhe-o-tax-is: the tendency of an organism to move in response to the stimulus of a current of water, either with the current or against it

Part 3

Warning for Part 3: This section's rather grim for Yohji; that's why I waited to post until I could put the next section up too. It's the low point of everything for him in this fic, but I promise that things will get better. The story's not just about torturing the character.

As Yohji woke, he was aware of three things. First, his bladder felt about to burst. Second, he was starving. Third and most disturbing, he didn't hurt nearly as much as he ought to.

He levered himself to a sitting position, pulled the blanket more closely about himself, and looked around. Someone had obviously cleaned the floor. And I didn't notice. He widened his eyes in a brief flare and clenched his jaw a little. I don't know how sensitive those damn cameras are, but... A covered tray lay beside the door to the cell. Food. I just have to get it. He glanced over at the toilet. Did he put the mattress on the opposite side of the cell on purpose? Well, getting it soaked by the shower would be stupid.

Yohji rose to his feet, deliberately tangling his legs in the blanket as he rose, making the movement awkward. He considered bringing the blanket along but decided against it. Modesty's not in character even now. He hunched his shoulders a little, stooping in an almost cringe as he started to walk. I wish I could escape those cameras... I wonder if Ran's watching now?

He didn't have to fake a flinch when he realized that light bandages covered some of the skinned spots on his legs. I didn't notice that either. Without stopping his forward progress, he took a quick inventory. Someone had definitely washed him. He smelled antiseptic again, not Nagi, not his own sweat and blood. His bruises had faded to soft browns, and he thought he'd lost weight. A lot of weight. My shoulders still hurt, but they're not swollen. How long was I out? A week? Christ. Did I miss the physical therapist too?

He openly checked his stubble and surreptitiously looked for i.v. bruises as he used the toilet. Shorter. Someone shaved me. No marks. But I'm not thirsty enough. He drank anyway then retrieved his new cup from the box that had arrived while Nagi'd been present. I'm not going to want to come over here unless I have to. His hands shook as he lifted it, so he only filled it about three quarters of the way. Nicotine withdrawal. Has to be. No. I know better, and once I start lying to myself... But he got himself a new patch anyway. How's being unconscious going to affect this? Should I need less? I don't feel like I need less.

He looked over at the tray and felt a powerful reluctance to go anywhere near it. Probably drugged and too near the damn door. His hands shook a little harder. And now I see the door as dangerous... A very bad sign. He considered showering now while he was on that side of the cell anyway, but the hollow feeling in his belly decided him. Only game in town.

He started off across the cell toward his pallet then made a darting side trip to grab the tray. His pride called for more leisurely movement, but he ruthlessly pushed that pride aside. I need to look worse than I am, not better.

The relief that he felt on regaining his bed told him that he was nearer to the edge than he'd wanted to think. He almost collapsed into a sitting position and pulled the blanket around himself once more, more for comfort than for warmth or modesty. And it is comforting. Totally fake that, but I'll take what I can get.

Lifting the lid off the tray revealed miso, rice and some sort of stewed fruit, all still warm. So they timed the drugs accurately... No utensils... What's that? A folded piece of paper lay partially under the rice bowl. Its position didn't conceal it particularly, so he assumed that it was a message from his jailers rather than anything secret. Still... He let it sit while he drank the soup then palmed it as he picked up the rice bowl.

He forced himself to eat slowly. He had no way of knowing how long he'd been without food, and he knew that too much, too fast could hurt him. After a bite or two, he put down the rice for a minute and pulled his hands inside the folds of the blanket. There, obscured from the cameras, his fingers unfolded the piece of paper. As soon as it was unfolded, he picked up the rice again and ate another bite or two.

Then he put the bowl down again and shifted position. He bent to pull at the edges of one of bandages on his right leg and looked at the paper.


Sorry about the simplicity of the meal, but your stomach won't handle anything complicated at the moment. After you're done, put the tray and dishes by the door. More food will not be forthcoming until you do that, today or on other occasions.

I will visit again when my schedule permits.

Naoe Nagi

Hopes he'd not realized he cherished abandoned him as he read. He laid his head on his knee, willing his body to stop shaking. It couldn't have been anybody else. I knew that. I knew that.

He ripped one of the gauze patches from his leg, welcoming the pain as the tape stripped hair. His fingers told him that that bandage was relatively fresh. He could still feel a little ointment of some sort in the material. The skin beneath showed no mark. He frowned. What the hell? He closed his eyes and thought. That was skinned, not cut. It would have healed by now, at least judging by how the bruises have gone. But why put bandages on after it's healed? Something's not right. His mind flashed to the bruising he'd had when he'd first awakened in the cell. That disappeared too fast...

He pulled the other bandages off with a bit more care. The mystery combined with the need for some level of precision focused his attention enough that he stopped shaking. He turned each piece of gauze over in his fingers, seeking answers that weren't there. A bandage on his left foot yielded a clue of another sort, four hairs the color of newly shed blood.

Ran. He was here. Yohji stripped the hairs from the tape, careful not to let it appear that he was doing more with this bandage than with the others. Bastards. He had to force himself not to curl in physically again, and tears rose in his eyes. Better him than some stranger. What must he think? He knew anyway... But somehow that didn't make the knowledge that Ran had cleaned him any less shaming. Sudden queasiness made him regret the food he'd already consumed. I haven't felt shame-- I shouldn't feel shame. I didn't do anything wrong. He tucked the hairs inside his pillowcase.

No, just eat. I can't afford not to. He forced himself to work his way slowly through the rest of the rice and then to start on the fruit. After he was done, he contemplated the tray. I need to shower anyway. He piled the bandages with the dishes on the tray and steadfastly refused to examine the reasons why he thought he needed a shower.

He used the washcloth and scrubbed until his skin was red and starting to feel raw. He knew he needed to look like he was punishing himself, but he also found himself craving the self inflicted pain. It's not my body's fault... I'm really not going to know what's real and what's pretense, am I?

He retreated to his bed, hugged his pillow to his chest, and wrapped himself in the blanket again. Once there, he sat and waited. He did his best to look utterly miserable and didn't find it much of a stretch. If they realize I can get any  sort of sane perspective on this, they won't give me time to think, and I need to think, to plan, to figure things out. I need to recover my strength. Hm. Can I make a workout look like something I'm doing because I hate myself? Of course I can. It'll just leave me... I won't be able to defend myself when he comes back. Like I can anyway...

Eventually, the door opened and a man he didn't recognize stepped in and set a new tray down, picking up the old one before stepped back into the antechamber. The stranger didn't spare more than a glance at Yohji. And that glance didn't actually see me, just made sure I was where I'm supposed to be.

He ate twice more before exhaustion overtook him, and he had to sleep again. He considered carefully and decided that it was just a normal tiredness. Of course, what the hell do I know? Well, I know this much. He'll be back tomorrow. If he's coming at all, it'll be then. A sudden tightness in his throat and belly reminded him that, much as he might pretend otherwise, he feared Nagi's return. Guess I am lying to myself...

When he woke, he was curled up with his back to the room, gripping his pillow to his chest again. Like a fucking teddy bear... He pulled himself up with his back to the wall and stared out at the room. He let his eyes defocus as if he couldn't quite take in what he was seeing. Like I need to see it! Floor. Walls. Cameras. He suppressed the impulse to flip off the cameras as he had the first time he'd awakened in the cell. Instead he clenched his hands more tightly in the fabric of his pillow.

He'll be here soon. Yohji forced his fingers to relax. Want to bet they don't feed me until after he leaves? He put his face into the pillow, smothering a laugh. Yep. Already an expert. I could be wrong. He might get off on the power to make me barf, but... I don't think so. So far as he's concerned, the point's made.

Damn! I wish I had something solid to work with. A few years' experience, that's it. I'll figure out his buttons faster than he'll get mine, but so what? The ability to make him hurt me isn't exactly... He raised his head a little and looked across the cell. Control. That's the only scrap of it I've got. It's just going to hurt like hell.

He ran his tongue over his teeth and thought about brushing. Fuck that! He should count himself lucky I can't pick my own food. If he doesn't like it-- I need to move. Yohji practically threw himself to his feet, tossing the pillow back on the mattress as he rose.

He moved through his routine with greater speed and force than was normal. His body complained, and he had to fight occasional tremors. I haven't eaten enough. Or maybe it's withdrawal. When was my last patch? After he stumbled the third time, he gave in. He forced himself to remain on his feet long enough to shower. No point getting the bedding filthy any faster...

He hadn't been sitting for more than five minutes when he heard the sound of the door. He tensed, his instincts demanding that he get up and do something. Instead he raised his head slowly. Sure as hell knows how to make an entrance. Who's he imitating? Ah. Both of them.

Nagi's posture combined Schuldig's awareness of his body and sense of presence with Crawford's careful control. His clothing was clearly modeled on Crawford's but in charcoal gray as opposed to the American's usual white. Nagi stepped into the cell with Crawford's precision and Schuldig's grace.

Stop staring! Yohji forced his eyes away and curled himself tighter, pressing against the wall.

"Hello, Yohji-kun. I brought you something."

Yohji looked up and was startled to find a stuffed cat floating toward him. It halted in midair, just outside of the space defined by the edges of the mattress.

"I thought you should use your pillow for its original purpose." Nagi's face was carefully expressionless, but Yohji thought he saw tension in Nagi's stance.

Of course. It's a test of sorts. Yohji found himself flushing, half from anger and half from shame. Fortunately, I don't think Nagi can tell the difference. Yohji met Nagi's eyes, carefully keeping his expression flat. He reached out and grasped the toy. As he pulled it toward him, he eyed it carefully. Expensive. The fur was soft, short and black. The cat was about half a meter long and about half that in height. Yohji stroked it once before setting the toy down. Very expensive.

Nagi smiled just a little. "How are you feeling, Yohji-kun?"

Yohji cleared his throat, not wanting his voice to break on the words. "I've been better." He put a little challenge in his tone, but mostly he just sounded tired.

"I suppose you have." Nagi reached out a hand behind him, and the briefcase Yohji recalled from the last visit or one very like it floated into his grasp. Nagi's power kept it steady in midair as he snapped it open. "Come here."

Yohji briefly considered refusing. Don't be stupid, Kudoh. He'll just drag you over anyway. He climbed slowly to his feet and reluctantly walked toward Nagi.

Nagi didn't look up, but his body language told Yohji that that younger man was paying close attention.

Yohji stopped about a meter from Nagi and stood with the tension in his body pulling him away from Nagi, as if only force of will were keeping him from backing up. Which it is, he thought sourly. Only I wouldn't normally let him see that. I have some pride. Still.

"Turn around."

Yohji flinched just a little. He turned his back on Nagi and fought to keep from trembling. Idiot! What did you think he was going to do? He began to shake in earnest when Nagi's fingers stroked their way lightly along his spine.

"How are your shoulders, Yohji-kun?" Nagi's hands caressed Yohji's upper arms.

"Better than they were, Nagi-san." Yohji couldn't hide the tremor in his voice. And I don't want to. Really.

Nagi's hands were warm against Yohji's skin as he bent Yohji's arms at the elbows and fastened them with what felt like the same strap they'd used last time. "Good. This will hurt less then. I'd rather not make matters worse."

Yohji tried to reassure the panicked part of his brain that being bound didn't really make him any more helpless than he'd been a few seconds before. Logically sound but not reassuring. He could feel Nagi's breath on his back. Is he doing that on purpose? Yes, I think he is.

Nagi remained standing close to Yohji for several seconds after he finished. "You should take better care of yourself," Nagi said softly. "Your body's still exhausted." Nagi stepped forward, pressing against Yohji's back and placing his left arm around Yohji's waist.

Yohji shuddered, and his knees almost gave out on him. Nagi's arm tightened its grip. I'd have fallen... Never mind. I want him to see that. Yeah, but I don't want it to be real. "If you'd let me wake up, eat more often, I wouldn't be so weak. How long was it this time?"

Nagi laughed. There wasn't much sound, but Yohji could feel the vibration where his arms pressed against Nagi's abdomen. Nagi guided Yohji toward the floor, settling him in a kneeling position before releasing him. "You don't understand yet, Yohji-kun." Nagi rose and moved to stand in front of Yohji.

I've got to stop shaking. Yohji looked up at Nagi, focusing his eyes on the wet spots his hair had left on Nagi's chest. No. No. It's perfect. As long as I separate my head from my body... "So tell me." He let frustration show in his tone. "Or is keeping me guessing more fun?"

Nagi came down to Yohji's level and pushed hair from Yohji's eyes. "It has its moments," he replied dryly.

That sense of humor's damn dangerous. Yohji found himself smiling just a little in response.

"It's only been about 40 hours, Yohji-kun."

Yohji bit back an angry response. Wait. See how he explains it.

"When we brought you in, we gave you--you, Abyssinian and Bombay--a special medical treatment. You've got very, very tiny machines everywhere in your body now that will do their best to repair damage." Nagi flashed a smile. "A genuine asset in our profession, I'm sure you'll agree. They speed recovery a lot, but they need fuel. That's why you lost weight."

For a moment, Yohji's mind staggered under the concept. But is it really any weirder than the other stuff we've run into? No. It's just that it's been done to me. He reached for a question he could handle. "Why just the three of us? Why not Siberian?"

"Crawford said," and Yohji could hear a certain distancing in Nagi's voice, "that broken bones would give us a window of opportunity with Siberian. The nanites would have healed him in a matter of days rather than weeks."

Yohji nodded his understanding. That's... cold. Good. I need the reminder.

"Up to a point, you'll recover from anything that doesn't kill you outright, at least if you eat properly. You'll need a booster every few months--"

"What happens if I don't get the booster?"

Nagi shrugged. "My understanding-- I've never seen it myself, but my understanding is that it varies. For most people, the healing effect just wanes gradually. Some people, maybe as many as one in a hundred, die."

Yohji's eyes widened in shock. Nagi moved in closer. "Don't worry. We didn't do anything to make you more likely to die." Nagi cupped a hand under Yohji's chin and ran the fingers of his other hand down Yohji's neck. "This time."

Yohji sat frozen as he tried to respond to both Nagi's touch and Nagi's words. Fuck.

Nagi tugged gently at Yohji's chin, turning his face, making it easier to bring their lips together. There was nothing tentative or exploratory about this kiss. Nagi's lips pressed Yohji's with almost bruising force. Nagi's other hand cupped the back of Yohji's head, pushing Yohji forward even as he tried to pull back.

Yohji braced himself mentally for pain that didn't come. Nagi's teeth tugged at Yohji's lower lip but didn't break skin. Go with it. Forget it's him. Assuming I can. Yohji extended his tongue to touch Nagi's upper lip then pushed himself forward just a little. Careful. Just enough force, not too much. Nagi's teeth released Yohji's lip. Breathe now. That's what he's doing. Okay, back to business. Their tongues met and pushed at each other. A little challenge... Nagi rose to his knees. He wants to dominate. Bet me being taller pisses him off... Nagi's hand tangled in Yohji's hair and pulled his head back, and Nagi bore down from above to keep their lips together. Not that that helps me any.

Yohji flinched, tried to pull back. No, bad idea. Don't let him see that. He transformed that movement into an arching of his back that pushed his chest against the cloth of Nagi's jacket. Yeah, flirt a little. If he'll let me. Yohji rolled his shoulders from side to side. Nagi's grip on Yohji's hair tightened, becoming painful, but the angle of the pull didn't shift, so Yohji pushed upward, trying to deepen the kiss and make it his. I challenge. Nagi's other hand gripped Yohji's shoulder, fingers squeezing with bruising strength.

Yohji relaxed as much as he could. I yield. After a moment, Nagi's grip on Yohji's shoulder eased. Nagi pulled Yohji upright, released Yohji's hair and moved back a little.

"Very good, Yohji-kun." Nagi smiled in victorious amusement. "I'm glad to see a little enthusiasm on your part."

Liar. Yohji's eyes moved from Nagi's face to the rest of his body. Look at the set of his shoulders. And he's not sure what to do with that hand. Yohji bent his head forward, letting his hair mask his expression. This isn't about what he wants either because he didn't want that. Well, my surrender, yes. The rest... I think he really wants to hit me again. He forced his breath in and out in uneven gasps. After a moment, he lifted his head. Impotent rage just bordering on the desperate shone in his eyes as he glared at Nagi. That's right. You won that one. Mostly. At least the battle you think we were fighting. But we both know the stakes, and I don't think you're certain that I know. Balinese wouldn't... But that's not who I am.

But why not hit me? If he's not lying, I'll heal, and he won't have to wait long either. Yohji paled a little. He looked away, hoping the reaction could be taken for rage rather than fear. Of course, Balinese might get that... "So what's the lesson this time?"

"Just a little bit of play. We're still in the introductory chapter." Nagi ran the backs of his fingers along Yohji's chest, just brushing the edge of Yohji's right arm.

Balinese is a hedonist. He'd enjoy the moment even knowing it'll go bad. Yohji arched into the touch as if trying to guide it to more sensitive skin. He shook his head to flip his hair back. Yes, he'd show off a little too. He let his eyelids slide partly closed both to heighten the effect and to conceal his careful scrutiny of the other man's body language. He's trying not to let anything through, but... He doesn't want to touch me like this. And my response makes it worse.

Yohji opened his eyes fully and stopped moving. "It does get easier, Nagi-san," he said. What the hell did I do that for?

Nagi froze for a fraction of a second, his eyes widening. His recovery was almost instant, but Yohji noted the lapse.

Cover! Cover! Yohji smiled. "I believe the terms of the... bargain... require me to share my wisdom with you." His expression flattened. "In return," he practically bit off the words, "you keep your hands the fuck off of Omi." He's got to know I saw that. What's he going to do about it?

A telekinetic slap snapped Yohji's head to one side. "When I want advice, I'll ask." Nagi's response was icy.

Yohji pulled himself back to a centered, upright position and met Nagi's eyes for just a second. Then he very deliberately turned his head so that the other side of his face was toward Nagi. "Hit me again, Nagi-san. It's not like I can stop you." Yohji let the full weight of his bitterness escape in his words. He closed his eyes. He might do it, too... I don't think he's very stable. Yohji's shoulders trembled as he sat waiting. Thank god he's not going to touch Omi. I won't let him touch Omi.

Yohji's eyes flew open as he felt his body lifted by Nagi's power. What the-- He slammed against the wall and, for a moment, lost track of what was going on. His legs separated, and he struggled against the force holding him. No! What's he doing?

"Don't move." Nagi's voice came low and dangerous. "I don't want to do anything accidentally." He stood, stepped back and pointed directly at Yohji. Then he very slowly and deliberately shifted so that he was pointing to Yohji's right.

Yohji forced himself to relax but couldn't suppress a reaction when the wall behind him shook as if something very heavy had smashed into it. Fuck! He kicked and swung his head around wildly. For a second, he couldn't breathe through the tightness of his panic. I'm going to die I'm going to die I'm going to die--

Nagi pointed to Yohji's left, and the wall shook again. Is that a dent? Yohji managed to inhale. He coughed as he choked on the scent of scorched plastic. I can feel heat. I'm really going to die... He closed his eyes. He felt the wall shake again. That was-- He made himself go utterly still. This time the heat touched his inner thighs. Don't move. Don't move at all.

Nagi's next blows seemed to have less force, but each brushed Yohji's skin before impacting the wall beside him. Yohji clenched his jaw and fought to remain as still as possible. He kept his eyes closed. Breathe, damn it! He's got good control, and he's just trying to scare the hell out of you. Yeah, well, he's succeeding... Tears streaked his cheeks. Whimpering sobs rattled in his throat.

Finally, Yohji felt the impacts stop. The same force that had held him pinned lowered him the the floor and pulled him back to kneel about a meter from Nagi's feet. Yohji opened his eyes. What now? His guts clenched, and he fought the urge to vomit. Got nothing to bring up. No. He shuddered and gasped for breath, then looked up at Nagi's face. Cold. Cold, but he's angry as hell. I touched something bad... I will never, never do that again. Never.

"Do you really want me to hit you again, Yohji-kun? I might not kill you, but then again... You might get lucky." Nagi pointed directly at Yohji again.

Yohji froze, staring up at Nagi. His mind scrambled for words that eluded his mental grasp. Finally he bowed his head, letting it fall almost to his knees. "I still can't stop you," he whispered. He felt his shoulders tighten as he waited. I don't want to die.

Yohji heard the sound of Nagi's shoes hitting the floor as the younger man stepped forward. "If you were a dog, you'd be showing me belly right now."

Yohji couldn't read the tone of Nagi's words. "Is that what you want, Nagi-san?" Yohji's voice trembled. His stomach clenched again, telling him that if he had recently eaten anything it'd be coming back up right now, regardless of his wishes. I screwed up. I really, really screwed up.

"No." Then Nagi was on one knee beside Yohji, tangling a hand in his hair and pulling him upright. "If I want to fuck a dog, I'll get one." Yohji flinched then whimpered at the resulting pain in his scalp as Nagi leaned in close. Nagi's next words were barely more than breath against Yohji's ear. "You are not allowed to feel sorry for me."

Yohji shuddered at the vehemence of Nagi's words and could offer no resistance as the younger man shoved his face back toward the floor. I didn't mean to! Please, I didn't mean to! The pressure from Nagi's hand didn't let up, and Yohji turned his head a little to keep from hitting his nose. There was little he could do about the strain on his back and shoulders. Nagi ground Yohji's head against the floor but didn't try to turn his head to its previous orientation.

"But if you can't keep your advice to yourself--" Nagi gave the word a bitterly sarcastic edge. "I will gag you."

Yohji began to struggle only to find Nagi's power closed on his hips and torso like a vice. He took a shuddering breath and forced his body into stillness. "I'm sorry, Nagi-san--" Yohji despised himself for the sob that accompanied the words, and he couldn't stop tears sliding from his eyes. "I didn't mean to--"

"I know, Yohji-kun." Nagi's words seemed softer. "But everything you do has repercussions anyway. I can't excuse you that." He eased the pressure on Yohji's head, reducing it to just enough to keep Yohji's ear on the floor. Nagi shifted his grip so that his hand pressed on Yohji's neck while the fingers of his other hand stroked Yohji's hair. 

He's bothered by the fact that I saw that he was having trouble. That's it. Yohji pulled his mind away from his body as much as he could. Intellectual analysis is so damn much safer. No, he's bothered by the fact that he had trouble more than because I saw it. Control. He's all about control. And I think he loses some when he touches me physically. Telekinetically... he doesn't do more than he intended. Or less. Except once.

Yohji's tears continued to drip toward the floor. He's back in control. Fast. He reacts fast. Why's he letting me think? Nagi's free hand continued to caress Yohji's hair. He didn't mean to lose control, and it changes his plans. He needs a moment too... It's certainly not mercy.

"Onii-san, what a surprise!"

Ran jumped guiltily at the unexpected sound of Crawford's voice behind him. I didn't mean to watch! I just got caught by the stuff about nanites. I'm not-- I don't want to-- He turned rapidly, rather relieved no longer to be able to see the monitor showing Kudoh's cell. "Crawford." Ran kept his tone cold and even. I'm not embarrassed. Not. Nothing's happened yet.

"Oh, don't let me interrupt." Crawford gestured casually toward the screen. "I'm sure it's quite a show. Of course, I am taping it for later viewing. I can let you borrow a copy."

Ran snarled. "I don't need anything from you!" Especially not that.

Crawford smiled, and Ran's guts froze. He doesn't look like that unless...

"Actually, I was thinking about your request. About Bombay," Crawford clarified when Ran looked puzzled. "Yes, that one. I've decided that it's a good idea. You can look after him, make sure I'm not doing anything evil to him."

Ran nodded, feeling hope rising within him.

"Of course..."


"We will have to change a few things. I think you'll need a little more space with two of you. We can move your things without too much trouble, but those--" Crawford nodded toward the monitors. "Those will have to remain behind." He smiled tightly. "I think they'd be dreadfully upsetting for the boy."

Ran felt himself flush then go white.

Crawford stepped closer to Ran, invading his personal space. "And anything upsetting will impede his recovery. It's only a good idea if it helps. Of course, if the monitors are more important..."

"Tsukiyono's more important." Ran knew he was trapped, but, as always when dealing with Crawford, he was at a loss as to what else he could do. Kudoh and Hidaka would agree. Ran resolutely ignored the voice inside himself that told him that it was shameful to abandon his other teammates. What else can I do?

Ran could see cold contempt on Crawford's face and looked away. "Kudoh would understand." And I won't have to see any more of this... I really don't want to see any more of this. Really. And if he wasn't entirely convinced, he didn't have to examine the feeling any more closely.

Eventually, Yohji's breathing eased. It had been coming in painful gasps, rattling through his lungs. Calming it gave him something to focus on that had nothing to do with wondering what emotional landmines he might encounter next. I can't not talk to him. I haven't got any other way to use my few weapons.

Nagi had continued silently stroking Yohji's hair. He likes that. He's... comfortable... doing it. I don't think he's comfortable with anything sensual below my collar bone... I wonder how he'd react to me touching him... Not well, judging by the time I kissed him. If my arms weren't tied, I'd have done something, and he'd have killed me. Fuck. I think Crawford did me a favor.

The pressure on Yohji's neck gradually eased until Nagi's hand merely rested there. Yohji made no effort to move. I can keep still. I'm a hunter. I can do this. I can. But exhaustion made his muscles tremble.

"If I let you up now, Yohji-kun, will you behave?"

"Yes, Nagi-san," Yohji whispered.

Nagi's power gently lifted Yohji into a sitting position. Yohji let his head hang forward until Nagi's fingers lifted his chin. "You do understand?"

"Yes, Nagi-san." I won't push that button again unless I have to. Yohji swayed, his tired body threatening collapse. I should have stopped the workout sooner. But it's more convincing this way. Of course, I don't think he could tell the difference right now. He refrained from looking up at the cameras. Damn well bet that Crawford can, though. And Schuldig... Yohji fought not to collapse under a wave of purely emotional nausea. Don't think about him. He said he wouldn't interfere. Yeah, like I can believe that.

Yohji made himself meet Nagi's eyes. He knew his apprehension showed, but he also knew, intellectually at least, that letting Nagi see it didn't increase the danger. "I-- Please. I can't--" He wasn't even sure what he could ask for. Help. His lips formed the word, but no sound came out.

Nagi smiled. He's back in control. "Let's get you lying down, Yohji-kun." Nagi moved in closer and once again helped Yohji to lie on his back. Just like last time... And now he'll rape me again.

This time, Yohji didn't bother to turn his head or close his eyes. He simply stared up at the ceiling. A tender touch, non-sensual, doesn't bother him, at least, not enough to notice. But he only knows Balinese. I don't think there's much I could do that he won't consider a threat.

"Do you want the pillow this time?"

I'll be damned. I think the question's genuine. "If it's all the same to you, Nagi-san, I think I'd rather not watch." Yohji was surprised to hear a dark humor in his own voice. He didn't bother trying to track Nagi's movements. They'll be the same as last time or as near as makes no difference.

The legs move easier without the bruises. A hand on my ankle... There's the other hand. A well lubricated finger pushed its way into Yohji's body. It twisted and tugged, stretching him. After a few seconds, another finger joined it.

When Nagi's probing fingers found Yohji's prostate, they lingered, stroking, striking, pushing. What the-- God! Yohji moaned and gasped. No. I don't want-- For just a second, Yohji clenched his muscles, trying to expel the intruding digits. Then he stopped and gave a shuddering sob. No. Balinese would enjoy it. Yohji pushed thought aside and gave himself up to sensation.

Each touch made Yohji's cock twitch, and he felt it swell and harden. Then something touched it. That's three hands... The contact was tentative, soft. Yohji raised his head for a second and caught a glimpse of his erection standing alone. He could see nothing touching it. Telekinetic then.

Nagi's touch became more assured, squeezing and pumping. Yohji shuddered in response to the urgency building within his body, a glorious fire burning first hot then cold. After a subjective eternity, he came with a strangled cry.

He lost a few seconds then. When the light came back and he could see again, think again, he began to cry quietly. Balinese wouldn't cry. He turned his head to one side, hoping to hide his tears from Nagi. I am not Balinese. Nagi's hands were no longer on, in, Yohji's body. Yohji felt something rough, cold and wet touch his belly where the puddle of his semen was just starting to dry. What? Oh, the washcloth... This touch was gentle but thorough, and after the first few seconds it paused for a long moment. Fuck! He's noticed. The washcloth moved again, wiping Yohji clean. Then it was gone.

Yohji heard Nagi moving. After a moment, he heard the sound of tearing plastic. Any time now... Nagi entered Yohji's body more slowly this time, pushing in then drawing back before pushing in further. Yohji simply lay passive. Did Ran watch this time? Did he see me... Did you like what you saw? How he made me cry then made me come then... Do you see me now? Lying here with Naoe on top of me, fucking me. God. I hope you're not watching me.

Nagi shifted several times, varying the angle, depth and speed of his thrusts. Whatever you want to do, Nagi-san. Whatever... Nagi's breathing became harsher, his movements more agitated. Soon... Nagi went suddenly still, and his breath escaped as a hiss. Good.

Nagi lay on top of Yohji for a moment then pulled out. Now go clean yourself up. I want to be alone. Nagi stood. His footsteps moved away. Yohji turned on his side and curled up. That was worse. I didn't think it'd be worse. He wanted desperately to lose himself in sleep, but Nagi was still in the cell with him, and Yohji couldn't let go of that knowledge and relax.

Yohji missed the sound of Nagi's return, so the first indication he had was Nagi's hands on him, lifting him. It's his power too... Yohji found himself settled, cradled in Nagi's arms. I should have heard him coming. I should have...

"It was intended as a kindness, Yohji-kun. I thought you deserved something pleasant today," Nagi said in the quiet tone Yohji had come to assume was meant for him alone, too low to be picked up by the microphones.

He sounds sorry. Why is he sorry? I'm the one who-- No! There's no reason I should feel guilty. He should. He should... "I'm not Balinese!" Yohji replied in the same quiet voice. Shit! His body jerked as he realized what he'd said. What the hell did I say that for?

Nagi's arms tightened, keeping Yohji from falling. "Yes. I'm starting to figure that out."

Oh, god, guys, I'm sorry!

"I'll just have to find out who you actually are." Nagi stood. In a more normal tone, he said, "I'll just tuck you into bed, Yohji-kun."

Yohji shivered, suddenly feeling very cold. He scared me more than I thought. He leaned against Nagi's shoulder. He's warm, and I think he kind of apologized. I think he even meant it. I'll have to-- I'll have to think about it later.

Nagi crossed the distance to Yohji's pallet quickly. He knelt but didn't put Yohji down. Instead he leaned a cheek on the top of Yohji's head and put both arms around Yohji's shoulders, pulling him close.

I don't want to think about how wrong this is. I don't have anything else. Yohji turned his head to bury his face in Nagi's jacket. He pulled his legs in, pressing as much of his body as he could against Nagi. Think anyway, damn it! he commanded himself. I don't want to... Yohji sighed and tried to make his body relax. You're in shock; that's all, and not just from the rape. He wanted to kill me! Yes, but he didn't. He doesn't like Balinese...

Oh. Is that why I said it? Never mind. Can I use it? Oh, yes, just... not now. He sniffled and rubbed his nose against Nagi's jacket. Serve him right if I get him messy.

Is there going to be a better time? He pulled the fragments of his will together and started to open his mouth to speak. That'll just give me mumbles and a mouthful of cloth. He pulled his head back, searching for an angle at which he could look Nagi in the eyes.

At first, Yohji couldn't quite read the expression on Nagi's face. Yes. I think he does feel guilty. Not bad enough to stop or not to use what he's gotten, but... Damn, I wish he wasn't so human. Yohji let his eyes flicker to Nagi's and then away repeatedly. Show him a little belly... Yohji resolutely squashed the surge of panic that thought caused. "Nagi-san..." Yohji struggled for control of his voice. He'll notice the struggle, but I don't think he'll know what it's really about. "Nagi-san, you don't... hate me... for Balinese? I..."

"Shh." Nagi leaned in to touch his lips to Yohji's forehead. "Shh. I'll take care of you." Nagi began to rock gently. "You're not alone."

Yohji sighed and relaxed as much as his sporadic shuddering would allow. He's good. I hate dancing this close to the edge...

Note: My technical consultant (meaning my husband) tells me that "nanites" isn't the correct term for the technology currently swimming in Yohji's bloodstream. Apparently, the proper term would be "microbots" or something of the sort because nanites would be too small to do what Nagi says these do. I like the sound of "nanites" better, that and I think it's more likely to be familiar to readers.

Back to Index.
Back to Part Two.
On to Part 4.