Kiss Kiss Fall In Love

To my readers:

As always, I welcome input and review, no matter how scathing. :3 Email is also welcome!

To Sexy Sesshy in particular: M'dear, if you keep guessing my plotlines, I'm going to accuse you of stalking me. Even if you didn't get it 100% right... You're damn close. (I love that you're so sharp, however. xD Nice to have a reader who can keep me on my toes!)

Again, I'm sorry for taking so long. Friend of mine from Canada is dow n for awhile. ^^;; I get slightly distracted. If you think I'm taking too long, feel free to pester me by email or on AIM. I go by Sharritus.

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Chapter Five: Obsession
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Kyoya pulled away for a breath after that long kiss and smiled at Tamaki. His hand reached down to tuck a stray clump behind the blond's ear.

"I love you," he finally whispered softly.

As he spoke the words, he felt something round and hard press against the back of his head. The look of horrified shock on Tamaki's face helped to form the rapid theory that was confirmed by the harsh words of a deep voice.

"You two are coming with me. If not you'll have your boyfriend's brains on your t-shirt."

It sounded like it came from someone large. Kyoya turned his head slowly, determining how much movement he could get away with. He assumed that the gun pressed against his head had a full clip loaded. His heart pounded from the sudden switch in the situation, but he already sought a possible way out of it. The Ohtori's eyes narrowed as he weighed the possibilities. The stance had too much professionalism to it for this to be a casual mugging. Ransom, perhaps? He seemed more interested in getting Tamaki to cooperate than he; maybe he had no idea who he was, then, which might give him an edge.

"What do you want from us?" he asked nuetrally.

He could be wrong. The professional might just be after some pocket change. He recognized the slight accent as Italian, although his Japanese was very good for a foreigner. His mind ran through the possibilities.

"You'll find out soon enough, pretty boy," the man replied, eyes sliding to look over Kyoya's face. He grasped hold of a clump of the his hair and wrenched up, making both of them stand straight at the same time. Kyoya grunted, stiffling a startled cry of pain when he was yanked to his feet by his hair. The Italian cast a threatening look to the Suoh.

"Try to run away or get help, and I'm putting a bullet in his spine. Now walk beside me."

Capture, definitely, then. If they were lucky, ransom. He doubted the man was working alone. Hired muscle by the looks of it, but Kyoya never took anything at face value. He debated the wisdom of faking a stumble; even if the ruse worked, then what? There was nowhere to hide behind or run to. If there was a silencer on that weapon, they could be dead with no one the wiser until the festival was over. Passed out patrons were common, from what he'd heard. No one would think twice, unless it was particularly bloody. So he wasted no further time in talk, eyes casting about for likely cohorts. They fastened on Kotaru Kenshin, that new transfer student, standing on the hilltop they were currently scaling. He face looked like was sucking an unripe parsimmon.

"Tamaki," the senior called out, voice dangerously calm, "You have been a bad little boy, my pet."

They could do nothing but continue forward; the large man shoved Kyoya in front of him, the gun pressed hard against his back as they walked back up the hill. Tamaki's jaw clenching as he was adressed. His friend shoved his hands in his pockets, glaring at the Kenshin on the hill.

"I am not your pet. And why are you following me? What do you want with me? Didn't I satisfy you at..." then Tamaki swallowed and looked away, eyes softening as they glance towards himself, hardening again when he saw the gun was still pressed against his back.

"If you want me, then leave Kyoya out of this! He has nothing to do with this!"

At Tamaki's brave words, he inwardly winced. He would have done better by pretending he meant nothing to him. Still, it would have probably still gotten him killed, the situation being what it was. He kept his face perfectly blank. His mind had already swiftly put all the pieces together. This one, this Kenshin, had been the one to hurt his Tamaki. Now he had a specific target. He understood the reasoning for him being taken, as well; he would be Tamaki's incentive to comply. His eyes narrowed further, eyes as icy as a midwinter blizzard. This Kotaru Kenshin would pay dearly. Kotaru pretended not to notice him, although his expression told him he had at least sent a chill up his spine.

"Mm. I hardly began, my dear," their captor replied to Tamaki. "Now I do believe you have forgotten the rules."

Without further warning, he backhanded Tamaki's injured cheek.

"You do not speak unless given permission."

"Ah!" Tamaki's hand flew unbidden to his cheek.

He shuddered, but murmured, "You have no right to treat me like this, or Kyoya," Tamaki went on, voice serious, "Haven't you had enough?"

The blonde's blue eyes focusing on Kotaru's face, trying to find something there he could work with, could persuade. He could have told him he would not find anything. Discouraged, Tamaki looked away again. Kyoya's nails dug so deeply into his palms that blood dripped from them. It took that much effort to keep from trying to rescue his new-found beloved. He knew it would amount to nothing, and make things worse for the Suoh in addition. His eyes grew ever colder as Kotaru grabbed ahold of Tamaki's chin, forcing him to look back up at his malevolent face.

"You were given your warning. Since it would be a shame to ruin such a lovely face, the Ohtori will take your punishment," he declared languidly, a malicious smile playing at the corners of his lips.

A dark hand gestured at the large man.

“Go on, Mr. Wolfgang.”

Kyoya threw himself to the ground at the words, praying that he had caught this freshly identified Wolfgang offguard. He could take this no more, this hurting of Tamaki. He kicked at the man's wrist as hard as he could. If he could only get the gun... Odds might swing to their favor. It helped that he knew how to use one. Unfortunately, the muscle man had apparently anticipated something of that nature, and he grinned down at him, the gun remaining fixed in his hand.

Damn....

"Thought you could take advantage of me, did you?"

To be perfectly honest, Kyoya hadn't actually expected it to work; it had been a desperate move from the start. The large guy quickly shifted his weight and kick him hard in the stomach-- he obviously wasn't expecting an answer. He struggled to get something into his lungs as Wolfgang bent down and got a fistful of his hair, lifting up his head. He lost what breath he'd managed to regain in a cry of pain when the man's fist slammed fullforce into his nose. His head was let go so that it hit the ground with an oddly hollow sound. He knew even before his hands flew to his nose that it would be broken. It hurt more that he thought it would, and was about to hurt worse. While head swimming and still just trying to breath, he expertly pulled it back into its original position. It nearly made him faint. Attempting (and for the most part, failing) to suppress a moan, he opened his eyes with difficulty against the sudden soreness in his eyes. Shit. They were going to swell shut, product of a well-broken nose.

“Hn?”

Tamaki had run over at some point; he was in tears as he knelt beside him. Kotaru sauntered over after him and pulled him away by the belt.

"Look at him," the older boy taunted in a silky, soft voice.

"This is all your fault, Tamaki. Your pride hurt Kyoya. Do continue, Amadeus Wolfgang. Tamaki needs a lesson before we leave."

"Yes Sir."

The hired man strode forward, foot connecting with Kyoya's thigh, ribs, knees, back. Then he pinned him down on his back on the ground, knees on each side of his hips, heavy fist rising and falling once, twice, three times on his face. He didn't think he'd ever been in such pain before; Kyoya struggled to breath, to think, choking on his own blood. He hoped to any god who listened that it came only from his nose. Finally his tormentor stood, leaving him in some amount of peace.

Tamaki had slumped to the ground, hands gripping the grass, eyes shining with horrified tears as he watched his best friend and lover get beaten to a pulp in front of him.

"Hnng...."

He marveled that he was still concious, although he wondered idly if it could actually be called consiousness, really. He could even tell by his thoughts that he wasn't exactly thinking clearly. Through much effort, he managed to push himself up on his elbows.

"Not...your...fault," he managed to rasp. I can't let him blame himself for this....

His eyes finally swelled shut, erasing his boyfriend from view, and he felt the beginnings of yet more bruises, and fractures if not actual breaks. He'd rather given up on his nose. It was a right mess, he could tell.

"Shut him up," came Kotaru's next snapped order. Apparently he didn't care for his interference in his mind games. "And as for you, my pet...” that sounded like it was directed at Tamaki “Strip. Curs do not wear clothes."

Oh, he was going to kill that Kenshin when he got his hands on him.... but he had no more time to think as, without warning, Kyoya was hit hard in the mouth. He never saw it coming with his temporary blindness. His head snapped around at the force of the blow. He spat out a tooth and a mouthful of blood with it on the fairground grass.

"Talk again and I'm shoving this down your throat," Wolfgang warned coolly, running the tip of his gun mockingly down his jawline.

Kyoya tensed, anger growing closer to something like rage. His own pride was beginning to show.

"Nnn.. fuck... you," he managed defiantly, using vulgar language picked up from being towed through commoner culture by Tamaki.

Crass--but easier to say through a swollen face.

"No, you can't fuck me. But I can fuck you... I can fuck you up a lot," said Amadeus.

Humor must run dry in the Wolfgang family.

"Now..." the tip of the gun was shoved forcefully between his lips, "do you want me to shoot you in the throat or the foot? Or do you want to shut up?"

The taste of the greasey metal on top of everything else--the odious smells, the disgusting food, the taste of his own blood--did him in. Kyoya's stomach rebelled, expelling what little he had eaten along with a copious amount of blood and bile all over the man's gun and hand. He could probably have held it back, but he didn't bother. This had to be the quickest way to get the gun out of his mouth. Plus, the possibility of being a less attractive victim, but he had the feeling this would only anger Wolfgang even more. He couldn't seem to get up the effort to care much about that. Amadeus cursed and flung his hand and gun away.

"You're disgusting. Haven't your parents taught you better?" the adult accused.

He backhanded him hard across an already much-abused cheek, using the strength of his whole arm. Kyoya bit back another cry of pain as agony lanced through him from the blow. He could no longer stay upright, he realized, even as he noted he now lay prone on the grass. Well, at least he no longer had a gun in his mouth... His mind worked, trying to formulate possible escapes. He disguarded most of them, because they did not factor very highly Tamaki's escape as well... Through his mental haze, he heard the words of his enemies.

"Sir. This one's getting messy."

Wolfgang.

"Then teach him manners, Mr. Wolfgang. Use whatever means you like. Tamaki here doesn't care, isn't that right?"

That one would be Kotaru, and playing more mind games by the sound of it.....

"I'll... do whatever you say. Just don't hurt Kyoya anymore. Please."

...Tamaki. Damn it.... He should have insisted they stayed home, it was all his fault....

"You're strong. Not many stay conscious for this long," Amadeus complimented, then reached down and give the underside of Kyoya's chin a tickle.

...Ah, hell....

Afterwards he was flipped easily on his belly, one knee pressing against the base of his spine to keep him from moving. A cry of pain escaped unbidden from his lips when he was flipped. He gritted his teeth as much as he could, because he knew this was going to hurt like hell. He made another choking sound when his shirt and jacket forcefully ripped from him and discarded. A bright red blush marked what parts of his face were free from bruises. Not a lot, so it would hopefully go unnoticed. It was becoming harder and harder to suppress his reactions..

"Any last words?"

Kyoya tried to jerk away, but only managed to slightly flinch in a general sort of way. Damn it! His body just would not respond properly... He did manage a rather vulgar gesture at the question, and he hoped Wolfgang saw it. Spitting would have been better, but he knew it would only dribble down his face. That wouldn't exactly give the effect he wanted. He was vaguely distracted from his predicament at the sound of Tamaki's voice.

"Please! Stop! Tell him to stop! Don't you see that Kyoya's already hurt enough as it is?"

...Well, that didn't bode well. What was Wolfgang about to do to him...? He had his answer a second later when something slammed down onto his back. Kyoya yelped as it lacerated a preexisting bruise. A belt, he realized in a detached sort of way as the punishment continued. He could not keep himself from crying out with each successive lash, eventually devolving into strangled whimpers of pain. By this point his breath came in ragged gasps with a rather pained undertone.

"It's here, Sir," the man said, finally standing with what sounded like a sigh of regret

He pulled Kyoya up roughly by the arm with him, all but dragging his stumbling self to the doors of some sort of vehicle. Wolfgang had to drag him the entire way; his feet would not work, just like everything else.

He guessed it was a limousine; it felt like one, smelled like one. He could hear Tamaki crying nearby, and it almost broke his heart. What had Kotaru done to him while he'd been distracted, or was it only that he himself was hurt? He could hope for the latter, because that would mean he was for the most part unharmed. He clung desperately to conciousness, although he still breathed raggedly. Everything hurt, and hurt abominably! He had never been in such pain before. It was all he could do to focus on staying awake. He tried to expand his awareness to other things, but Kyoya was too far gone to be aware of much; what didn't throb agonizingly was horribly numb, and that frightened him more than the pain. He did become gradually aware of his presence, Tamaki's presence, from the way he held him and squeezed his hand.

"Nnnn..."

He didn't care if it hurt. He didn't want him to let go. Kyoya's hands twitched, trying to curl his fingers around Tamaki's. Now that he knew that he was there, things didn't seem quite so bad as they had been, even though, essentially, nothing had changed at all. He gave up rather quickly; it hurt much too much more to move. But Tamaki soothed him, and he slowly began to relax. They were in this together. It might have been incredibly selfish of him, but he felt glad that he was not alone. Tamaki softly whispered to Kyoya in French; the meaning briefly escaped him, but but it didn't matter, only the tone, his voice promising comfort and safety soon. And for now, that lie didn't matter.

Kyoya relaxed even further, and in doing so lost his tenuous grip on consciousness.

What seemed like only moments later, his eyes flickered. He started to come back to his senses, slowly. And most of what he sensed was unexpected pain.

"Hnnng...?"

What was going on...?

"Ah, very good, very good, put him right here good sir," an unfamiliar voice was saying.

The strong arms carrying him set him down on a hard surface, and he felt something strapping his limbs down as heavy footsteps moved quickly away, cut off by a shutting door. Memory came rushing back. His eyes flew open. Tamaki! Well, he'd been out long enough for the swelling to recede, he realized belatedly.

"Hello there, my dear boy," that frail voice whispered.

It trembled with excitement as the owner leaned over to peer at him. It was an old and wrinkled face, rather sparse in the hair area.

"Feel proud. You are participating in a historic moment, today."

A grin broke out on those features, and the creepiest giggle he had ever heard (including the one by that cat worshiper at school) escaped.

"Why don't you get comfortable here while I complete the preperations, my most honored guest?"

Alright, he'd had enough of the weird today. He wanted out, he wanted to go home, and more importantly, he wanted to hold tightly to Tamaki and never let go. He slammed his head up hard, hoping to do some damage. It made his throbbing head hurt worse.... but somehow, that didn't matter quite as much.

"Agh!"

The old man stumbled back, a hand clasped to his aching nose. For a satisfying
moment, the gleeful look on his face transformed to a one of loathing.
Unfortunately, his eyes then turned to slits, and he laughed.

"My my! My newest test subject is feistier than most!"

He walked around the table by his head, buckling it quite firmly down
to the table.

"I think that proves you are in good physical condition."

Another loud giggle which ended stale and flat in the cold room. ...For what, he wondered. Back turning to Kyoya, the scientist began rummaging about his
counter, preparing a syringe and other instruments. Shit. This was not good. He watched helplessly at the man filled up a syringe with clear liquid, squirting and tapping at it a bit to get rid of the bubbles. The needle was easily at least two inches long! It didn't look like it was a small diameter, either. Kyoya squirmed against his restraints, hard. Once three syringes were prepared, the scientist took one and spun around, still humming.

"Now don't be comfortable, this is going to hurt a lot," the elder said in a soothing tone.

And then he sunk the needle into Kyoya's arm. Slowly.

He managed to do no more than wince until the liquid hit his bloodstream.

“Hng... Nyaaaaah!”

It was like fire in his veins! In the background of his internal struggle, the man giggled and clapped his hands, pleased with the subject's reaction. The following syringes came in quick succession, and afterward the scientist leaned against the metal table, watching Kyoya writhe and scream with eyes that seemed almost pitying.

What seemed to be a great time later, the pain finally stopped, or rather, ebbed enough to be only mildly annoying. His bruises from earlier were no better, but they didn't bother him as much. Not after whatever had be done to him. He took careful stock of his situation; he was not in the same room as before. The walls were still the same blaring white, but he wasn't strapped down to anything. There was only a wooden chair against one of the walls, no sign of tables or chairs. He must have blacked out as some point.... Kyoya was doing that a lot more often than he liked lately. Not that it was something he would ever have looked forward to, mind. His ears pricked as he heard the sound of heavy footsteps coming down the hall, growing louder as they neared.

Shit. Now what....?