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White Ink	By : libek Category: Digimon > Het-Male/Female Views: 5839 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Digimon: Digital Monsters, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-White Ink
- 1
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Digimon Adventure or Digimon Adventure 02. Toei Animation does. Right now, I think that everyone in this fic is very glad of it. When you've finished it, you might be glad, too. No copyright infringement intended. All rights reserved.

WARNINGS: Semi-noncon, Seme!Taichi, and Girl!Yamato. (Yes, again. I promise it's my last one! One whole fic, one lemon PWP...now I'm okay. None of the other fic ideas I have in my head involve gender-bending, okay?)

FURTHER CAUTION: Although it's a Plot? What Plot?, sex is not the point of this lemon. The point is hurting you, the reader. This fic may rape your brain -- though, to quote one of my RL friends, "But it's good taito, so sadly the rape was consensual."

A/N: This fic was inspired by going an entire day without sleep and then spending most of the following night reading yaoi doujinshi -- you know, where rape and sex are the same thing. It was further inspired by one panel in one of my taito doujinshi where it looks as if Yamato sprouted breasts, but you can't quite tell. I think these inspirations are very clearly present in the fic itself. ^^;;

White Ink

by Libek

Yamato stared at his best friend, caught between disbelief and...a vague sense of discomfort. His thoughts lingered on the weird dream he'd had last night -- the one that he couldn't quite remember -- but he shook it off. Clearing his throat, Yamato wondered if he hadn't misheard the other boy somehow. "Excuse me?"


A smirk was Taichi's only response. No, he hadn't misheard anything.


"But...that's it?"


"That's it."


The bet had lasted them almost six months -- longer than any of their other casual competitions. Ever since a normal lunchtime conversation had somehow wandered around to the subject of their Crests, and Taichi, seemingly at random, had remarked that he didn't think Love really suited Sora. As her boyfriend, Yamato had, of course, felt a certain obligation to defend her -- though at the time he'd been more confused than seriously angry. He had thought Sora and Taichi were good friends, and even if the two of them had had a fight, surely Taichi knew better than to say something like that around him?


But the brunet was adamant. "Anyone else, Yamato. Hell, I bet even I could do a better job of it than she has."


Being as this came from a boy who'd never held a steady relationship in his life, Yamato had laughed and challenged Taichi to give him one decent qualification. Taichi had. Taichi had given him qualification in spades. Not that he'd believed it when his best friend had claimed to possess an uncanny knack for reading the hearts of other people.


"Couples are easy to predict," Taichi had said bluntly. "Give me any two people, and I'll prove it to you."


Since they needed to be people that both he and Taichi knew well enough to argue about, Yamato had picked two of the other Chosen Children: Koushirou and Mimi. "Go ahead," he'd offered. "Tell me their future."


And the other boy had done exactly that. "I figure Koushirou's got one of those pathetic little crushes on Mimi-chan. She's a female and she tolerates his existence, therefore he thinks he's in love with her. He's been screwing up his courage for years, and this summer when she comes to visit us, he's going to ask her out on a date. Being Mimi-chan, she'll squeal loudly, get all bubbly over the idea of a 'summer romance', and say yes."


It really had made way too much sense, so much so that Yamato had paused before responding. "How long can that last, though?"


"Oh, not long." Taichi had shrugged, seemingly amused. "I give it a couple of weeks before two things happen more or less at exactly the same time: Koushirou realizes he'd rather play The Sims than go on real dates, and Mimi-chan decides that she'll get more pink sparkles out of a guy with an actual pulse."


"Harsh," Yamato had murmured. "But you're probably right."


Never one to take a centimeter where he could take a kilometer, Taichi had immediately ordered him to admit that he'd been a fool to doubt the Almighty Yagami Power -- and, never one to back down once he'd foolishly committed himself, Yamato had just as quickly argued that one lucky guess didn't prove anything. Naturally, the other four sensible predictions that followed were also lucky guesses. That was when Taichi had suggested upping the stakes a little. Since neither of them had a source of income, exactly what this amounted to had never been made clear, but the blond had agreed to it regardless. And, as the months passed and each prediction came true one after another, he had begun to dread this day.


The day when Taichi decided to collect.


However, faced with his best friend's worst, Yamato's first rush of embarrassment slowly faded to relief. Cross-dressing was just...so unimaginative. If he'd been the winner, he would have had Taichi go around to all of the classrooms during lunch and profess his undying love to one of the girls in each. Though nowhere near his own popularity, Taichi was certainly well enough liked that most of the girls would happily agree to meet him after school in the park. When compared to the wrath of an army of humiliated teenage girls, putting on a skirt for a little while seemed pretty weak. Too weak. Yamato frowned. There had to be a catch somewhere.


"Not in public, right?" he asked, careful not to sound overly alarmed in case he had put his finger on it. "Like here at school or anything."


"Of course not. This is a private show." Taichi's smile was deeply unsettling. "Meet me back here when your last class gets outs. I want to get started as soon as possible."


So he wandered through the rest of his day blindly, and returned to the front gate with his mind still whirling. There was something else. There had to be. Half a year, and all Taichi wanted for his trouble was a laugh? Yamato bit his lip uncertainly. When the brunet showed up, the first thing out of his mouth was: "Am I staying for dinner?"


"You're sleeping over. Don't worry, it's all arranged. Mom called your father at work to make sure he didn't mind."


That had potential. "Are you going to make me sit at the table with your family?"


Again, Taichi only smiled. "I don't think that would work too good." He started to leave, but walking backwards so that they were still facing each other. "Why don't you just ask me what I'm not telling you? I don't mind spoiling the surprise."


Oh, no, Yamato thought. "I'll figure it out on my own."


"Just be a good girl," the other boy suggested mildly. "That's all I want from you."


In spite of his playful tone, there was a vaguely creepy edge to the words that made Yamato's returning glare uncertain.


They walked the rest of the way to the condominium in silence, and listened to other people's conversations in the elevator. Even when Taichi fumbled with the keys to his own apartment, neither of them said anything. It was dark and empty inside. Odd. Hikari got out earlier than either of them. She should have been home by now. Taichi went down the hallway, flipping light switches here and there with the ease of casual familiarity, and Yamato stayed in the living room, trying not to notice how every added shaft of light only seemed to make the shadows that much deeper.


He didn't think he'd ever been alone with Taichi quite like this before. Those rare occasions when his best friend had the house to himself were always reserved for his girlfriend. Of course, Taichi was between girlfriends right now (having dumped the last one after a new record of one entire month), but...


"Are you just gonna stand there all night?" Taichi said, coming back to him at last. "C'mon. The outfit's in my room."


Briefly, Yamato fought the other boy's grip on his arm. He wanted to know why Taichi hadn't told him they were going to be alone, but felt strangely reluctant to ask. Either oblivious of or indifferent to his discomfort, the brunet dragged him down the hallway and didn't let go of him until they were on the threshold of his bedroom. Yamato promptly covered his mouth, having been assaulted by the overpowering stench of dirty laundry. Taichi's room was never very clean at the best of times, but this was awful even for him. His clothes were scattered across the floor in little clumps, the hamper in one corner overflowing; there were CDs everywhere, in and out of their cases -- even his videogame equipment, the one thing Taichi could be counted on to keep organized, was tangled up and gathering dust.


Something of the horror he felt must have shown on his face, because Taichi glanced over one shoulder and laughed. "Sorry about the mess. Just sit on the bed and try not to touch anything else with your bare hands. Mom brought me clean sheets this morning."


"I see," Yamato murmured, but he didn't really feel like sitting down right now (especially not on Taichi's bed), so he stayed where he was and watched his best friend draw what looked like a girls' school uniform out of his closet. It wasn't the one from Odaiba Senior High, and Yamato was just starting to wonder how Taichi had gotten his hands on it when the brunet turned around and stared at him.


"Yamato, I told you to sit on the bed. Don't make me repeat myself."


He blinked, somehow not really that surprised. Of course he had to do what the other boy said. This was, after all, a modified slave-for-the-day agreement. Yamato sat.


"Better." Taichi nodded, and brought the uniform over to him. "Here, go put this on. You can use the bathroom if you like. Come back as soon as you're done, and don't keep me waiting too long."


"You don't want to watch me change?" he responded playfully, already heading out of the room.


"No." The other boy's voice was completely flat. "I don't."


Yamato hesitated, but when Taichi didn't add anything else to that, he kept going. The sooner he changed, the sooner Taichi would let him go home, he figured. But when he held that outfit up to the light, the blond suddenly realized that it wasn't a real uniform at all. Even abbreviated sailor uniforms were never this skimpy. For god's sake, the skirt would barely cover his ass. Taichi must've picked it up in one of those stores that sold used panties. Quickly, Yamato checked the inside of the skirt, but if it had been stained, it was clean enough now. The blond sighed in relief, and yanked the blouse on over his head, silently promising to never make another bet with Taichi as long as he lived. Unimaginative or not, public or not, this was still going to be really humiliating.


Once Yamato had finished (with everything he intended to wear -- the panties were a definite 'no', and he wasn't even sure how a person got into stockings), he went back to Taichi's bedroom and found the other boy watching the clock on his bedside table. He must have taken longer than he was supposed to. "Sorry. I got dressed as fast as I could."


What sounded like an indifferent snort. "Where's the rest of it?"


"On the bathroom floor," Yamato admitted slowly. The total lack of interest was sort of insulting. Six months, for this? "The, uh...the underwear looked too small for me anyway."


His best friend nodded. "Lie down. I want to get a good look at you."


Mouth already open to ask what was wrong with the view from where he was, Yamato thought better of it. If he made this difficult, what kept Taichi from calling the bet slave-for-the-month instead? It wasn't like they had been very specific when they made the agreement. "Fine," he said, crossing the room to join Taichi on his bed.


For a long moment, the brunet didn't move. Then he turned, and gazed at Yamato thoughtfully. "Not bad," he murmured appreciatively. "Not bad at all. Roll over."


Moving his eyes as much as his body, Yamato complied. "Happy now?"


"Almost." One of Taichi's hands landed on his thigh, and he jumped. "You're completely flat, of course, but we can fix that." The hand wandered a little higher, smoothing his skirt, and lingered there just long enough to make Yamato feel distinctly uncomfortable. "Nice ass."


"What -- " He jerked around, but the faint smirk on his best friend's face wasn't particularly reassuring. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"


The brunet's smirk faded away, and he rubbed a thumb over Yamato's lower lip, disconcerting him like hell.


"Shh. You're supposed to be a good girl, remember?"


Incredulous, Yamato spluttered. "Taichi, you practically grabbed my ass! Most girls would hit you for something like that." Screw this. Bet or no bet, he was getting out of here.


But when he tried to sit up, Taichi shoved him back down again. "Ah, but I've got a specific girl in mind. You look a lot like her, you know. If you'd just be quiet, I bet I wouldn't be able to tell the difference." His voice roughened. "Care to find out?"


Everything inside of Yamato froze at those words. He knew Taichi was kissing him, could feel the other boy's tongue brush his lips and then force them apart, but at the same time it didn't seem to be happening to him, or even to anybody he gave a damn about. No, he wasn't the one being molested. He could turn and walk away anytime he chose. Only, for some reason, he didn't feel like walking away. For some reason, he was staying to watch the show.


Now Taichi's hands were moving up and down his flanks, and sort of tickling him. Then one of them wandered higher, fondling his hair, and the other danced briefly over his chest. That hand paused; it recoiled. He took a minute to realize that Taichi's weight had left his body -- another minute to wonder whether this whole thing had ended as suddenly as it had begun -- and just as his mind decided it was worth the risk to return, the brunet was on top of him again, shoving his blouse up around his armpits. This time, he struggled. Taichi caught his wrists so easily that he might just as well not have bothered.


"I thought you were going to leave me alone," Yamato growled.


Soft laughter. "Not a chance. You just surprised me, that's all. You're the girliest boy in Odaiba, Yamato-chan, but it's not enough. Not nearly enough."


A wave of fresh panic surged through his body. "The fuck are you talking about? What's not enough?"


"Everything."


Maybe it was the fear. Maybe the look in Taichi's eyes had paralyzed him, like a rabbit staring into the headlights of an oncoming car. But whatever the reason, all he could do was stare while the brunet let go of his wrists and reached down to pinch his nipples instead. At first, the only thing he knew was pain -- but somewhere in the sharpness of that pain, there was a spark of something different. And Yamato found, as the spark began to burn, that he could not stop whimpering. He tried shutting his mouth, but all that did was muffle it slightly.


He felt so weak. So terribly weak. Even breathing was difficult. Pushing Taichi away would have been more than he could handle. And the weird spark was really starting to feel good. Better than he would've liked to admit. The warmth of it spread all over his body, and then beyond, following Taichi's hands as they retreated. Was he sitting up? Why would he have been sitting up? Then Taichi released him, and he landed hard on his back, nipples aching.


"That's better," the other boy remarked. "Definitely an improvement."


Confused, Yamato looked down at himself, and gaped. "What...how..." he whispered disbelievingly, voice cracking as he tried to process what had obviously happened. "You..." His voice cracked again, and the blond realized suddenly that it was more than just nerves. He had gone from a tenor to an alto in seconds. "I don't..."


"Understand?" Taichi looked amused. "That's okay. Nobody asked you to. All you're supposed to do is lie still and be quiet."


Before he could think of a proper response, Taichi was kissing him again -- and cupping one of the breasts that had somehow been drawn out of his body. Oh, god... He heard himself moaning softly, and blushed. For one brief moment, the blond considered kissing back. Taichi's hands were so warm, and his new breasts so sensitive. All of the blood drained slowly out of his face, and rushed between his legs instead.


The hell? Why didn't he get rid of that? I thought he wanted me to be a girl...


No sooner had Yamato had this thought then Taichi pressed their bodies together and kissed him hard. His mind went completely blank, and when he moaned this time, it was thick and involuntary. He didn't even notice at first when the brunet ripped away from him as though he'd caught fire. Even as he got his breath back and focused his eyes, seeing the disgust on Taichi's face only reminded him of his own, and so Yamato's response was to get on his hands and knees. He'd intended to make a run for it, but the other boy was undaunted and simply grabbed hold of his waist.


"What...what are you...doing?" Yamato gasped out. Against the exposed flesh of his back, scratchy cotton from one of the school shirts that he was all-too familiar with. On his belly, greedy fingers.


"Finishing what I've started," was the heated reply, and Taichi flicked the skirt out of his way.


He couldn't breathe. Not with Taichi's hand in his boxers, thumb and forefinger rubbing the swollen head of his erection. Fuck. Fuck. It wasn't his first handjob, not by any stretch of the imagination, but they'd always been from girls, and girls never knew what the hell they were doing. This was so much more intense. Too intense. His cheeks grew hot, his eyes narrowed to watery slits, and he was conscious of tilting his head back in slow-motion, clenching the sheets in his hands, and feeling Taichi's kisses on his neck before he came.


"I can't believe you did that," the brunet muttered, sounding very far away. "I barely even touched it, and..."


There was something in his tone of voice that made Yamato look at him curiously. If he hadn't been so lightheaded from his orgasm, he might have realized what a stupid thing that was to do. The only thing he saw was the back of Taichi's hand as the other boy wound up and slapped him hard enough to turn his head, leaving streaks of cum behind. That same hand pressed tight over his mouth, as though Taichi thought he might scream. He wouldn't have. He didn't want any of the neighbors to come running and see him like this. Wouldn't they wonder why he hadn't been able to fend Taichi off?


"Well?"


Still disoriented, Yamato blinked. He didn't understand. Well, what?


"Aren't you going to clean my hand?" Hissing, vicious, and slightly impatient. "This is your mess, isn't it? So take care of it."


Fingers pried his mouth open, stroking his tongue and his teeth. He sucked on them automatically. The reaction embarrassed him, but Taichi seemed to think it was awfully funny. He should have said something -- should have done something -- to show that he didn't appreciate being laughed at. Something to keep Taichi from thinking he could get away with that kind of treatment. He didn't, and the brunet's other hand made its way down the length of his body once more.


"Jeez! Great recovery." The other boy -- if Yamato could really call himself a boy any longer -- almost sounded dismayed "You're not a virgin, are you? Not that I want details. Just nod or shake your head."


Slowly, almost against his will, Yamato shook his head. Why was he answering honestly? It wouldn't change anything, and he hadn't wanted Taichi to know about that. He hadn't wanted anyone to know. Sora had made him promise to keep their 'indiscretions' a secret...


"Good."


Startled, he could only repeat the word weakly. "Good?"


"Yeah. No offense or anything, but I don't really have the patience to break in a virgin right now."


Between his legs, what had been a gentle, rhythmic tugging sharpened -- became almost painful -- and Yamato recognized the very same faint spark of something different. The change happened faster this time, so fast that it made him ache on the inside. He barely even had time to cry out before Taichi had shoved the last vestige of his masculinity deep into his belly. Again, there was pleasure in the wake of Yamato's pain, and she opened her eyes to the brunet's soft laughter.


"What do you know," Taichi murmured. "It worked..."


Did she care what he meant by that? No. She had gotten past the point of such idle curiosity ages ago. All that existed in the world was this moment and the bed underneath her new body. Yamato couldn't bear trying to think of anything else. If the now horrified her beyond all reason, at least it had rendered her numb. But tomorrow...tomorrow, there would be repercussions. Her father's tired eyes. Her baby brother's denial. Police officers making her relive every moment of this. Therapy so that she wouldn't quiver in the dark. New horrors, fresh horrors, tearing the wound open over and over again. And somehow, ridiculously, losing Taichi's friendship was worse than anything else.


When Taichi leaned down to inspect his work, the blonde turned her head aside and watched the shadows his blinds made on the far wall. She listened to him mutter indistinctly that this was most satisfactory, and tried desperately not to close her eyes when he sat up once more. As much as Yamato didn't want to see that strange, hungry expression, she knew that it was branded on the insides of her eyelids -- traces of neon and the bright holes in his face that were his eyes. So she stared at the wall until her eyes watered, waiting for the pain of his entry, the embarrassment that would be his fuck, and the fear that overwhelmed her at the thought of what would happen when he stopped.


She had never expected to enjoy it.


The word 'sex' had always meant something slow and calculated with Sora. Her hands on the door to her room, carefully turning the lock so that he would be sure to notice. His hands on her body, peeling the layers of clothing away one at a time. That wetness in her panties as he tugged them off that always surprised and somehow disturbed him. Sora on her back, drawing him to her, and then nothing but numbers in his head as he counted the thrusts until she came. The higher the number, the better the sex. It was simple and mechanical and comforting and peaceful and really sort of boring.


Taichi's definition of sex was obviously a little different. This was faster, harder, almost brutal -- and passionate. Horribly, desperately passionate. Yamato kept her eyes riveted on the far wall and bit her lips to keep from screaming because the scream that wanted to tear from her throat would have been the wrong kind. Why didn't it hurt? Was she really that wet? Enough that he could fuck her thoughtlessly like this without ever bothering to slow down? Enough that it almost felt good when he did...


No. No. She couldn't like this. She couldn't. It was rape. Forget that she could barely even breathe without moaning. Forget how utterly incredible Taichi's dick felt inside her. You weren't supposed to enjoy being raped. You just weren't.


"But you are, aren't you?" he whispered, right against her ear so that she shivered. Laughing quietly, as if he'd read her mind and seen the dirty little thought there; sucking gently on her earlobe while he waited for an answer.


An answer he would never get, if Yamato had any say in the matter. Not that she'd had much of a say in anything so far, admittedly. And the way he was massaging her breasts suddenly prevented any coherent thoughts. His hands were calloused and slick with sweat, but she felt feverish when he ran them even briefly over her bare skin. Going as far as pinching one of her nipples left her gasping helplessly for breath.


"Say it." Despite the commanding tone, the words were flat -- almost indifferent-sounding. How could he do this to her when he didn't even care? "Say it!"


She opened her mouth to reply, not quite sure what was going to come out, and moaned sharply as he ran his fingers down her belly, squeezing the little nub of sensitive flesh that Sora had called a clitoris.


More quiet laughter. "Is that a yes, Yamato-chan?"


With her last remaining shred of self-control, she shook her head.


Everything stopped when he pulled out. Yamato whimpered, even knowing that it was the wrong thing to do -- the wrong way to react -- and stared up at Taichi as his expression hardened. Then he seemed to smile with his eyes alone, and abruptly grabbed hold of her shoulders so that he could force her onto her back instead of her stomach. Taichi kept doing that -- manhandling her, as if she were a pretty but unusually stupid animal. As if she were a doll with stiff plastic joints.


In turn, she didn't fight when the brunet spread her legs or lifted up her skirt. This was partly from the horrible sense of inevitability that the entire thing had taken on, but at that moment, as he swept his thumb over her moist sex and Yamato realized that what she wanted more than anything was for him to shove that entire hand inside of her...at that moment, she didn't care. There would be time later to regret what she was about to do, but right now...


He had said he didn't like to repeat himself, and he didn't ask her if she was enjoying herself again. Instead, he leaned down so that their noses brushed together and looked into her eyes expectantly. His dark skin glistened in the half-light, and a slightly sour musky smell choked her. She thought of all the laundry, the dust, the filth that surrounded them -- and the decadence of being taken in the midst of it. He hadn't undressed her, and he wouldn't. She should have felt repulsed and insulted, demeaned and violated. She did. She should have pushed him away.


So why then were her arms twining themselves around his neck? Why, instead, was she drawing his ear to her mouth and saying everything he wanted to hear? Why did being dirty make her feel so good?


Yamato thought she knew. Five years of being perfect. Of Sora, and cookies, and sunlight, and making love in her bedroom with stuffed animals on the windowsill and glossy, airbrushed posters of his own face on the wall. Of taking three showers every day so that he would never for a moment smell anything like himself. With never a pause to fantasize or masturbate so that it all built up in the dreams he'd have sometimes. Dreams he would then carefully forget.


"Yes," the blonde admitted. "I'm enjoying this."


She felt more than heard her best friend's mocking laughter as he went to kiss her throat, and tightened her grip, pulling him closer, forcing him to let her keep going. At least if she said it, someone would understand.

At least then someone -- anyone -- would understand.


"I wasn't finished."


His dark eyes widened, just a fraction, and she took pleasure in surprising him. He, who probably knew her better than anyone else.


"I want more, Taichi. All that you can give me. As hard as you can make it. Hurt me if you have to, but don't stop. Whatever you do, don't stop."


Amusement flickered and kindled in his face, but the surprise stayed right where it was -- mutating into a strange sort of awe. "Well, well. Under all of that meticulously-styled hair and ball-breaking attitude, you're just another little slut, aren't you? Waiting for some jock to rip your panties off and fuck you raw..."


"No, Taichi." Again, she pulled him close. Stuck her tongue down his throat and listened to him groan softly in response. "Not some jock. You." His taste still lingered on her lips. Wonderful and foreign and not like Sora at all. "It has to be you."


If anything, the sex was faster this time. Harsher. Maybe Taichi had a better angle with her flat on her back, or maybe he just had more motivation. Whatever the reason, they had gone from a desperate in, out, in, out to something she could only describe as in, in, in, in. There was no pause, no hesitation, just the slap of his belly against her thighs and the clean sheets rippling around their bodies as he drove her deeper and deeper into his mattress. She realized that she was holding her breath and let it out with difficulty. Dug her fingernails into his back and closed her eyes as they filled with frenzied, emotionless tears.


But it wasn't enough. She wanted him harder, needed him deeper, and couldn't for the life of her think how to accomplish that. Even as the pleasure welled up inside of her, as Taichi grunted out a warning that he was getting close, still she'd thought of nothing. Yamato began to panic then. She was going to come, without ever once feeling satisfied. It would simply end, as it always did with Sora. And the brunet went ever faster.


"Ta - Taichi..." It came out sounding ragged and distorted, not like her own voice at all. "No...please..."


He didn't stop, didn't slow, just laughed a low, gravelly laugh. "S' little -- too -- late t' change -- your mind -- now."


"Not...not changing...my mind. But you're gonna...gonna make me...and I st - still need...more..."


What was she doing, asking for that? How could she expect Taichi to know what she wanted when even she wasn't sure?


Not that he hadn't done it before.


Not that he couldn't do it again.


Taichi's eyes glittered dangerously. She felt his hands sliding down from her thighs to her knees, and lifting them. She felt his erection slipping from her sex. She felt him rolling her hips back, guiding her legs to rest on his shoulders -- and that was all the warning she had before he was thrusting so hard against that other entrance to her body that he broke right through its tight ring of muscle. She screamed then, couldn't help it. Pain had never felt so good. This was it. This was what she needed. Even though she knew she wouldn't last long, could sense Taichi trembling above her, those last few strokes made all the difference in the world.


Orgasm hit Yamato first. It arched her back and wrung the last breath from her throat. Much more intense than she would have expected as a woman, and better than anything she'd ever felt as a man. It curled her toes and made her whimper, the immediate rush leveling into a gentler warmth that spread slowly from her groin to the rest of her body. For a while, she could still feel Taichi moving in and out, but then it faded to just the sound of his guttural breathing as she slipped further from consciousness.


On the edge that consciousness, before Yamato could fall asleep completely, the rhythmic thrusting stopped. She felt a gush of familiar sticky fluid and opened one eye tiredly to see his smirking face. In it, she thought she saw the first real glimmer of affection that had been there all day. His brown eyes were warm and soft as he ran his fingers through her hair and flicked stray pieces into place.


"You make a decent girl, Yamato-chan. A little more practice, and you might even fool me. Of course, most real girls don't like taking it up the ass, but..."


At those words, everything snapped back into focus. The humiliation, the groping, the violence, and the rape. Vaguely, Yamato realized that she still had streaks of cum on her cheek from where he'd struck her. Instinct said to bolt, and maybe she should have listened to it, but at that moment all she wanted was an explanation.


"Why?"


"I told you." Taichi shrugged, as if it didn't matter much to him and shouldn't have made any difference to her, either. "You kinda look like this one girl I know."


Her eyes burned, and she ducked her head quickly. Not about to let him see her cry. It shouldn't have surprised her, and it didn't. But it also shouldn't have hurt. It did. She just wanted Taichi to take her in his arms and say that he cared about her. Even as a friend. That this whole thing had been one big misunderstanding. Was that so much to ask?


"Hey..." His voice. The voice of her former leader. Her former best friend. So soft, it was almost tender. "Don't cry. Isn't this what you wanted? What you've been wanting for years?"


She stammered uselessly. No. It wasn't true. She didn't want Taichi. She didn't want this.


Gently, sweetly, he brushed away her tears. "Liar. Why bother denying it? I know these things, remember? Koushirou and Mimi-chan? Daisuke and Ken? Jyou and that French exchange student? Our siblings?" He grinned that slow, sexy grin of his. "You and me."


She knew she was blushing. When Taichi pulled her hand to his mouth and kissed it, she blushed even harder. "But...Sora..."


"Who cares about Sora?" The brunet drew her up against his chest, and she snuggled there contentedly. "Not me. Not you. But that's okay."


"It is?" Yamato felt dizzy. Lightheaded. She was staring at Taichi's lips, wanting him to kiss her again. So what if he'd nearly raped her? She didn't care. She was happy now, for the first time in what seemed like forever. So happy.


"Yeah. After all, she doesn't love you, either."


Their mouths brushed together, then latched onto one another like fleshy steel traps.


And Yamato awoke.


Panting, gasping, clawing at the air. At anything. Anything solid he could use to pull himself out of his dream. The darkness that he saw when he opened his eyes did nothing to reassure him. Neither did the bedroom that wasn't his own. He threw the sheets aside and went to the window without bothering to get tug on a shirt, sticking his fingers into the blinds and pulling them apart so that he could peer out at the ghostly threads of early morning light. The sun hadn't risen yet, but had just started to think about it.


Someone moved behind him, sitting up in bed. Yamato froze, horrified, and then relaxed when he saw that it was only his girlfriend. Sora. Exhausted and decidedly female Sora. Sora without so much as a stitch of clothing on, alarmingly, but Sora nonetheless. Not Taichi. Looking from the clock on her bedside table to him and then back again, Sora frowned in concern.


"Are you all right, Yamato-kun?"


He blinked. Scrubbed his knuckles into his eyes until he saw grey spots in front of the pale, colorless bedroom. Picked up one of her stuffed animals and tried his best to look unaffected. A teddy bear. Already, he was having trouble remembering what his dream had been about. The details slipped through his fingers like grains of fine white sand, until only uneasiness remained. "I'm fine."


Not as though he would have told her anything else, of course. Sora had plenty to worry about already. He didn't like the thought of adding his problems to the heap, and Yamato suspected that she felt the same way about him. When he had something big enough that he thought he wouldn't be able to handle on his own, there was always Taichi -- and Sora had Mimi to call in America. So it all worked out.


"Oh. Okay." Giving him a last, uncertain glance, Sora rolled over again and went back to sleep.


Which made sense, considering that first bell wasn't for another two hours. Yamato might have even followed her example, but he had never felt so wide awake in his life. The dream must have been a nightmare or something. Jeez, his borrowed pajama bottoms were damp and clingy with sweat. Thinking vague thoughts about taking a shower and maybe making breakfast for Sora and her mother, Yamato started to put the teddy bear back on the windowsill. Then he dropped it on the floor instead and walked away. He would take a shower, if only to rinse away the sweat, but he was going to make breakfast for himself.


When he got to the bathroom, however, Yamato discovered that the odd stickiness in his pajama bottoms was more than sweat. Fingering the flecks of off-white fluid distastefully, the blond almost wondered what his dream had been about before shoving it violently out of his mind. He had more important things to think about -- like school, or what he was going to get Sora for their anniversary next week. There were the usual reservations at the usual restaurant, but she always expected a gift in addition to that. It didn't have to be expensive, just a little something to prove that he was thinking of her.


Yamato toyed with the idea of gift-wrapping a wad of the cum on his thighs, but decided she wouldn't think it was very funny and picked up the shapeless lump of scentless white soap that always seemed to be in with Sora's bath things. She claimed that they started life as swans or flowers, but even if that were true it only meant that she quickly crushed them into generic little blobs. Which, somehow, struck Yamato as a very Soraish thing to do. He didn't let himself wonder why.


Clean, dressed, no longer hungry, and still an hour or so from first bell, the blond ran out of things to do in his girlfriend's grey apartment and left her a note explaining that he'd decided to head for school early. He was just planning on walking very slowly and maybe getting a cup of coffee en route. It didn't occur to Yamato until he was halfway there that she might think this was weird -- they both knew he didn't really like coffee -- but when it did, he took a detour and bought a cup of the nasty stuff anyway. Just to keep the note from being the sort of pointless lie that he found himself telling so often these days.


By the time the school gates came into view, Yamato was actually in a fairly good mood. The leisurely walk had given him plenty of time to notice what was starting to be a very beautiful morning, and even with the lingering aftertaste in his mouth, he still appreciated it. Of course, he hadn't expected to see Taichi leaning against those gates, but then -- when was Taichi ever early to school?


As he approached, the other boy opened one eye lazily and grinned. "'Morning. You're early today."


"I could say the same for you," Yamato pointed out, not bothering to hide his amusement. "The world must be ending."


"Ha, ha, ha. Very funny. C'mon, man. Of course I'm early. I wouldn't miss this for the world."


He frowned. "What are you talking about?"


That opened Taichi's other eye. The brunet stared at him. "The bet, genius. Remember? The one we made months and months ago?"


"Oh, right." Yamato struggled to speak around his heart, which had somehow leapt right into his throat. That bet. "Err...does this mean you've finally decided what you want me to do?"


"Yes." Both eyes slid shut once more. He didn't seem to feel much like elaborating.


"Which is?" the blond prompted, irritated.


"Oh, just let me play dress-up with you for a while. It's a skirt, of course, but that's nothing you can't handle. Right, Yamato-chan?"

A/N: Due to rampant confusion among my readers, I'm forced to add a bit of an addendum. Some people seem to think that I literally intend Yamato to relive this experience forever and ever. I don't. It's more like a 'dream within a dream within a dream' paradox, so that Yamato's not quite awake yet. I don't think he will be awake until he realizes that he's not happy with Sora, but that's another metaphor altogether. *wink*

Never End
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White Ink