Judgements of a Stone
folder
Digimon › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
10
Views:
1,748
Reviews:
1
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Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Digimon › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
10
Views:
1,748
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
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.
In Which the Waters Were Divided From the Waters
Judgments of A Stone
By: Vain
6.2001-11.23.2001
-------------------------------- ~~~ -+- ~~~ -----------------------------------
-----READ TINFOINFORMATION OR YOU MAY BE CONFUSED!!!!!-----
Please Note:
THIS IS A STORY CONTAINING MATURE THEMES, DISTURBING IMAGERY, ADULT SITUATIONS, VIOLENT THEMES, CHARACTER DEATH, AND VARIOUS FORMS OF CHILD ABUSE. THIS IS RATED NC-17.
ALSO, THIS IS UNRELATED TO ANY OF MY OTHER WORKS.
---------- ~~~ -+- ~~~ ----------
“Ever see a cock pheasant, stiff and beautiful, ever’ feather drawed an’ painted,
an’ even his eyes drawed in pretty? An’ BANG!
You pick him up—bloody an’ twisted, an’ you spoiled somepin better’n you;
an’ eatin’ him don’t never make it up to you, ‘cause
you kilt somepin in yaself, an’ you can’t never fix it.”
~ John Steinbeck
The Grape Wra Wrath
---------- ~~~ -+- ~~~ ----------
Chapter Five:
In Which the Waters Were Divided From the Waters
---------- ~~~ -+- ~~~ ---------
Yukio’s eyes widened and he unconsciously stepped closer to Ken protectively as Ichijouji Osamu emerged from the shadows. The boy genius’ eyes were glaring at the two of them malevolently, but there was no emotion on his face. His flat violet eyes drifted first to Ken’s pale, frightened face and then Yukio’s. He approached them slowly, the way a hunter approaches a frozen doe and its young. He stopped about three feet away from the pair on the steps and locked eyes with Yukio.
“Kenny-boy,” the boy said in a completely un-child-like voice, “go upstairs. Now.”
Ken cast a frightened glance at Yukio but obeyed. He knew that look in his brother’s eyes; something bad was gonna happen soon.
The door closed with a sigh behind him and Osamu and Yukio glared at one another, each recognizing the other as a competitor for Ken’s affection and neither one quite ready to yield.
Yukio broke first. His dark eyes slid away from Osamu’s and he shivered, instinctively knowing that he had just lost a battle and unsure of how to steel himself for defeat. His voice was a murmur. “Good afternoon, Ichijouji-san.”
The boy’s head tilted to the side and his eyes narrowed, whether it was in amusement or in speculation, Oikawa wasn’t sure. “Oikawa-san, I believe it is?”
Yukio nodded and kept his eyes fixed on the ground.
“Oikawa-san,” Osamu repeated, making the name sound like something vile. “Oikawa-san, I see you were out with my little brother.” He stopped and waited for an answer that didn’t come. Osamu nodded. “Well, then. I’m sorry that he’s been bothering you, Oikawa-san. I’ll be sure that he stays where he belongs from now on.
Yukio stiffened as though he had been struck, but remained quiet. Whd hed he always have to remain quiet? Why couldn’t he ever speak out?
Osamu stared at him impassively for a moment and then paled as something suddenly occurred to him. The bruise . . . The boy’s eyes widened in both fury and disbelief and he took a step back as something horrifying occurred to him. The night he fell down the stairs trying to sneak out . . . the bruises . . . Ken’s weird behavior . . . the nightmares . . . The youth step forward menacingly, instantly closing the distance between him and the startled Yukio.
For months this had to have been going on! Months!! And Ken had never once come to him!! Instead he kept going back to see this . . . this . . .
Osamu’s eyes seemed to glow. “You bastard.” The words were a terse hiss that hung in the air—a coming storm.
Yukio’s eyes widened and he took a nervous step back, hands raised defensively. “Ichijouji-san, I don’t . . .”
Osamu advanced, grinding his teeth as a muscle in his jaw twitched. His voice was a powerful, low whisper. “There are things to be said about a man who spends all of his time with a six-year-old, Oikawa-san. So just how do you and my Kenny-boy pass the time?”
Yukio swayed on his feet. He knows. The entire world seemed to drop away beneath him and spots danced in front of his eyes. He knows.
The man licked his lips and took a shaky breath. “Ichijouji-san—”
“So you’d deny it now? The things you’ve been doing to him?” A smirk slid across the youngster’s handsome features, warping them into something cruel and unnatural. He leaned forward a bit and put his hands on his hips. “I’ll tell.”
Yukio turned white.
“I’ll make him tell. You know he will. He’ll do anything I tell him to. We’ll go to the police, to Momma and Poppa. We’ll expose you for the sick, twisted freak you are.” The smirk turned into a grin that bordered somewhere on the verge of maniacally sadistic. “Everyone will know.”
Yukio’s breath had quickened and everything seemed to be spinning—everything except Osamu’s hellishly glowing eyes. “What do you want?”
“Stay away from Ken. He belongs to me and no one—not you, not my parents, not anyone—is ever going to take him away from me. You got that? Stay away from him.”
Yukio nodded, and it felt like something in heart broke with the motion. Not trusting himself to speak—What could he say? He was exposed—the man turned around as walked away with faltering steps. Osamu’s words rang in his ears. “I’ll make him tell. You know he will. He’ll do anything I tell him to. Everyone will know.”
The elder Ichijouji brother watched as the interloper walked away, a deep, seething rage building inside him. “That imbecile . . .” His eyes narrowed as he stared after the retreating figure. “That idiot . . .” The thought occurred to him to tell anyway, just to be sure that Ken was safe, just to be sure that everything would be okay . . . But then they might take Ken away from him . . . He’d be alone. He brushed the feelings aside and turned to go inside.
But why hadn’t Ken told him? Ken told him everything. Except this. Why? The question plagued him all the way back up to his apartment and when he thought he found the answer the rage inside him built to something intolerable. His vision was literally tinted red and he was so furious, so overwhelmed with jealousy that he almost threw up. He closed and locked the apartment door behind him. His parents wouldn’t back for hours.
Violet eyes stared at the door to the bedroom at the near end of the hall and Osamu was moving towards it before he knew what he was doing. So that was what he wanted? That was what he wanted? Fine then. He’d get more than enough. He pushed the door open.
~~~ -+- ~~~
Ken whirled around as his bedroom door crashed open. His eyes widened in terror when he saw the look on Osamu’s face. He didn’t look angry or upset, he looked . . . pale. And his eyes gleamed in way that made Ken’s skin crawl. He had never seen a look like that on Osamu’s face.
“You little slut.”
The boy recoiled. He wanted to run as far away as he could, but he knew that there was nowhere to run. Not from Osamu Oniichan . . .
“You little faggot whore!” the older boy hissed. He reached out like a striking snake and seized Ken’s wrist, dragging him close. He screamed directly into the smaller boy’s face and his eyes seemed to gleam ominously. “Is that what you want?!! Is that what you fucking want, you little shit?!”
sti stiffened in horror. No! Nonononononono! How did he know? How could he possibly kno Rag Rage and shame made Ken pale and flush scarlet in turns. Oh, god . . .
“Is that it?!!! Answer me, goddamn you!” He threw Ken to the ground and started to take off his belt.
Ken stuttered helplessly and tried to back peddle, eyes locked on his brothers burning eyes and his desperation making him mute andmsy.msy. “O-Onii-Onii—”
“Nothing to say?” Osamu jerked the heavy leather belt out of the last loop. “Then we’ll just have to make you talk, won’t we?” He wound the end of the belt with the heavy steel buckle around one hand, letting the other end swing free suggestively.
Oh, god, no . . . He wouldn’t . . . He couldn’t . . . Osamu loved him . . .
“Tell me!”
The belt whistled as it cut through the air, smashing into Ken’s upraised hands with impossible for The The child shrieked in agony and instantly curled up into a fetal position, stinging hands protectively cradled against his belly. Tears were flowed down his cheeks. He couldn’t really . . .
“Shut up!!”
The belt fell again with a loud crack, striking Ken’s back this time. The thin t-shirt he wore offered no relief.
“Oniisan, please!!” he sobbed in fear and desperation.
“Shut up!”
Crack!
“Ahh!”
“You useless—”
Crack!
“Oniisan!!”
“Pathetic—”
Crack!
“P-puh—”
“Stupid—”
Crack!
“FREAK!!!!”
Crack!
“Did you want it?!!”
“NO!”
Crack!
“Liar!”
“N-nuh—”
Crack!
“You bitch!”
Crack!
“Did you like it?!”
“Nuh—”
Crack!
“Stop lying to me!!!!”
“Pu—ple—”
Crack!
“Is that what you want?!”
Crack!
“Is that what you want, you little pansy?!”
Crack!
“Y-yu—”
Crack!
“Say it louder, slut!”
“Yes!” Osa Osamu stopped, suddenly exhausted. Ken lay curled up in a ball at his feet, sobbing uncontrollably. In his terror the boy had wet his pants. He was shaking and crying helplessly and his brother stared down at him panting and looking wild. It was a powerful, heady feeling to know that he had been the one to do this; to hear the other boy screaming out for mercy and watch him spasm beneeverevery blow. He felt terribly hot and a painful erection strained against the fabric of his briefs. He hadn’t ever thought it possible to feel something this potent.
“Get up,” he gasped. The belt slid from his limp hands and hit the ground heavily. His face . . . he had to see Ken’s face . . .
The boy was shaking and sobbing, but he didn’t move.
The elder Ichijouji bent down and gripped his brother by the hair, yanking him to his feet. “I SAID GET UP!!” Ken shrieked and his bruised hands flew up to the crown of his head.
Tears flowed down Ken’s cheeks like two rivand and his face was red and splotchy. “Pu-pu-pu-pu—”
“This is what you want?” Osamu groaned. Still clutching Ken’s hair in one hand so that the boy couldn’t escape, he began to fumble with zipper of his pants with the other. “You want this?”
The child in his cruel grip started to hyperventilate when he realized what his brother was doing, but he couldn’t move. His entire body was frozen and a scream had lodged itself in his throat, choking him and preventing him from crying out.
Osamu shook him, obviously expecting and answer. “You want this, slut?!” He pulled his aching erection free from pants and wrapped his hand around the swollen length, slowly stroking it. “You want it?”
Ken choked and gagged, almost throwing up. The scent of sex and sweat was overpowering and bile rose into the little boy’s throat. He trembled when his brother’s eyes narrowed dangerously and began to nod frantically, still unable to speak. He’d do anything to avoid another beating. Tears slid down his cheeks with renewed force.
The wild-haired boy stopped caressing himself and used his hand to grip Ken’s jaw, squeezing it until his lips parted. “Suck me!” he ordered even as he thrust himself into his brother’s mouth. “Take it all and swallow every last drop!”
The boy gagged as Osamu pushed his entire length into his mouth and his gag reflex instantly kicked in, sending his stomach into heaves. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Yukio-san . . . The older boy squeezed his jaw painfully as a warning and Ken swallowed hard to keep from vomiting. Osamu shuddered and aan san slipped out from between his lips as the sensation of Ken’s swallowing hit him. He pulled out a bit and thrust in again. “ . . .Ken . . .”
Ken started to suck.
“Aa-aah!”
Osamu tossed his head back and stared at the ceiling, eyes wide and mouth open to form a little “o” shape. His hand relaxed begabegan to stroke the other boy’s hair as sensations washed over him in wave after wave of inconceivable pleasure. If felt so damn good . . . Hot and wet and hard and the pull . . .
“Oh, Ken . . . Harder . . .” His voice was a strained whimper.
His hips started to work faster in and out of the little boy’s mouth and Ken obligingly increased the force of his ministrations.
“Kenkenkenken . . .”
This is so right . . . He squeezed eyes shut and opened his mouth in a silent moan. This is how it should be. My Ken . . . Mine. This is mine. Oh god . . . this is how it belongs . . .
“Oh, yessss! Ken . . .” It seemed so right to murmur that name like that.
His entire body stiffened and he felt his penis swell to impossible proportions. “Ah, ah, ah, ah—” He came.
He pushed himself as far as he could go into the vacuum of his brother’s mouth, vaguely aware crushing the boys face hard against his abdomen and the other’s frantic struggle as he swwed wed more than he was prepared for, and shot his seed straight down the other boy’s throat. Ken’s reaction was instantaneous and he choked and coughed around the object in his mouth and struggled desperately to free himself. The urge to throw up wverpverpowering. Osamu’s grip was like iron, though, and he had no choice but to swallow the bitter froth that was filling his mouth. He swallowed convulsively six times as Osamu continued to pour himself into him blindly. It felt like he was swallowing crushed glass.
Then Osamu suddenly knocked him aside and staggered backwards. His eyes were wild and panicked as he stared down at his brother. He stuffed his sated organ back into his pants with shaking hands and looked around him in sudden shock. His eyes landed on Ken again. A cracked whisper creaked out from between dry lips. “Go take a bath.”
The boy fled.
Osamu swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. What had he done? He hadn’t meant to . . . He hadn’t meant to . . . Oh, my god . . . His head began to throb horribly.
In the bathroom, Ken bent over the toilet and threw up. As he watched the white fluid pouring out of his mouth his stomach heaved again. It was several minutes before he stopped. When he was finished he collapsed in a heap on the floor; his back, previously numb and hot, now felt like it was on fire. He lay on the floor for nearly an twenty minutes before he found the strength to rise and run bath water. I wish he would die, he thought with the fiercely intense hatred of fast burning rage. I wish he would just disappear! He didn’t cry though. He had no tears left.
~~~ -+- ~~~
Seven Hours Later:
Osamu stared blankly at the darkened ceiling of his room. His head was pounding mercilessly and he blinked slowly. All he could see was Ken’s face when he had pulled himself out and knocked the other boy dowFearFear and hate. Those were two emotions that Osamu understood very well, but he had never wanted to see them on Ken’s face . . . Not directed at him. It was almost more that he could bear.
A soft, hesitant knock on Osamu’s door startled him from his thoughts and he held very still, evening out his breathing and allowing his eyes to flutter shut to feign sleep.
A quiet voice followed the knock and Osamu stiffened. “Oniisan . . .?”
Kenny-boy . . .
The door open anblueblue head appeared in the frame, not daring to enter the room without permission. “Oniisan, it’s dark. . . . I’m scared.”
Osamu remained still. He didn’t want Ken near him.
“Oniisan, I’m sorry. Please don’t be angry with me. I’m scared . . . Please?”
The older boy squeezed his eyes shut against the tears he could hear in that voice.
The child in the doorway snuffled once and started to close the door.
“Ken.”
The door opened again and Osamu sat up in his bed, looking down in the doorway. Shadows obscured his brother’s face, but there was a tension in his shoulders that hadn’t been there a year ago. It was the same tension that Osamu bore and he knew it well. Too many adult responsibilities and adult secrets for someone so young. How did he miss all this? He was supposed to protect Ken. Ken was all he had.
samusamu Oniichan?”
It was a request and Osamu pulled back his covers and extended his arms to his brother without a second thought. The little boy closed the door and clambered up the ladder, practically throwing himself into his big brother’s arms when he reached the top of the bed. He was shaking.
Osamu hugged him close, taking comfort in giving him comfort, and rocked back and forth. After a few minutes Ken slid underneath the covers and they both lay down, the younger brother still cradled protectively in the elder’s arms, careful to avoid the fresh welts that had risen on Ken’s back.
“I love you, Kenny-boy. You know that, right? I love you more than anything in the world. I’d do anything for you.”
“I know, Osamu Oniich I l I love you, too.”
Osamu relaxed and waited until he felt Ken slip into sleep before he laid a gentle but possessive kiss on his forehead. I’ll never let anyone hurt you, he promised silently. “I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you . . .” He was still murmuring it when he went to sleep.
Their parents arrived home two hours later and the first thing they did was check on their children. Despite the fact that Osamu’s room was at the end of the hall, they checked him first. They did it without thinking—they had always checked the firstborn first.
Rika leaned against the doorjamb and heaved a very maternal sigh at the sight of her sons snuggled up against one another in slumber. “Aren’t they just precious?” she murmured as Tsuyoshi came to stand behind her.
“Absolute angels,” her husband concurred. “We’re very lucky to have them both.”
Rika smiled at him. “We are lucky, aren’t we? Everything is just perfect. I couldn’t imagine leading a better life.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned against his chest. “It would be nice if things would never change and we could all be like this forever.”
Tsu nodded as he inhaled the scent of her shampoo and watched his sons sleep. It just couldn’t get any better than this.
~~~ -+- ~~~
Yukio paced the length of his apartment in agitation. His head ached, his shoulders were stiff, and he felt ill. He was very hot and it occurred to him that he may have a fever, but he brushed the notion aside. It had been three weeks since he had last seen Ichijouji Ken: three long, long empty weeks. He still had Hiroki, but it just wasn’t the same. Ken was a part of him—he was in his blood. He was a drug that Yukio couldn’t get out of his system and the urge to go over to his apartment was overpowering . . .
He groaned.
The telephone rang, startling him and he paused in his pacing; he did not, however, make any move to answer it. He already knew who it was. The answering machine obligingly picked up.
“Yukio? . . . I know that you’re there, Yukio. Pick up the phone. What’s wrong with you? You seem ill. You haven’t been eating and you look like you haven’t slept in weeks. Hijiri says that you haven’t been to work in two weeks. If this continues you could lose your job. Don’t you care? . . . Yukio? Please talk to me. Yukio?” The caller sighed into the receiver. “I have to go to work, Yukio. I should be back on Friday. There’s an ambassador in town and I have to protect him. Call me, alright? Whatever it is, we can figure it out, okay? Best friends, Yuk. Don’t ever forget that.”
“Hiroki . . .” The whisper sounded dry and old and hung in the tense air a bit too long.
Hiroki couldn’t—mustn’t—ever know. If he found out . . .
“I’ll tell. I’ll make him tell. You know he will. He’ll do anything I tell him to. Everyone will know.”
Yukio shuddered. “My little Ichijouji Ken—”
But he wasn’t his—not anymore. Now he belonged to Osamu Oniichan again. Now there couldn’t be any more second-guessing. He had accepted Osamu’s conditions. He had walked away. He had to live with his decisions. Yukio bit his lower lip. Ken . . .
He walked over to the phone decisively and lifted it up off the cradle. He had to live with his decision. But maybe . . . someday . . . He dialed the number, not noticing the tiny tremors in his hands. Someday . . . someday maybe there wouldn’t be an Osamu Oniichan . . . The phone rang. Someday . . . “Hello, Hiroki? It’s me. Yes. I’m sorry, too. Listen, what are you doing right now?”
But for now there was this and he would have to make do.
By: Vain
6.2001-11.23.2001
-------------------------------- ~~~ -+- ~~~ -----------------------------------
-----READ TINFOINFORMATION OR YOU MAY BE CONFUSED!!!!!-----
Please Note:
THIS IS A STORY CONTAINING MATURE THEMES, DISTURBING IMAGERY, ADULT SITUATIONS, VIOLENT THEMES, CHARACTER DEATH, AND VARIOUS FORMS OF CHILD ABUSE. THIS IS RATED NC-17.
ALSO, THIS IS UNRELATED TO ANY OF MY OTHER WORKS.
---------- ~~~ -+- ~~~ ----------
“Ever see a cock pheasant, stiff and beautiful, ever’ feather drawed an’ painted,
an’ even his eyes drawed in pretty? An’ BANG!
You pick him up—bloody an’ twisted, an’ you spoiled somepin better’n you;
an’ eatin’ him don’t never make it up to you, ‘cause
you kilt somepin in yaself, an’ you can’t never fix it.”
~ John Steinbeck
The Grape Wra Wrath
---------- ~~~ -+- ~~~ ----------
Chapter Five:
In Which the Waters Were Divided From the Waters
---------- ~~~ -+- ~~~ ---------
Yukio’s eyes widened and he unconsciously stepped closer to Ken protectively as Ichijouji Osamu emerged from the shadows. The boy genius’ eyes were glaring at the two of them malevolently, but there was no emotion on his face. His flat violet eyes drifted first to Ken’s pale, frightened face and then Yukio’s. He approached them slowly, the way a hunter approaches a frozen doe and its young. He stopped about three feet away from the pair on the steps and locked eyes with Yukio.
“Kenny-boy,” the boy said in a completely un-child-like voice, “go upstairs. Now.”
Ken cast a frightened glance at Yukio but obeyed. He knew that look in his brother’s eyes; something bad was gonna happen soon.
The door closed with a sigh behind him and Osamu and Yukio glared at one another, each recognizing the other as a competitor for Ken’s affection and neither one quite ready to yield.
Yukio broke first. His dark eyes slid away from Osamu’s and he shivered, instinctively knowing that he had just lost a battle and unsure of how to steel himself for defeat. His voice was a murmur. “Good afternoon, Ichijouji-san.”
The boy’s head tilted to the side and his eyes narrowed, whether it was in amusement or in speculation, Oikawa wasn’t sure. “Oikawa-san, I believe it is?”
Yukio nodded and kept his eyes fixed on the ground.
“Oikawa-san,” Osamu repeated, making the name sound like something vile. “Oikawa-san, I see you were out with my little brother.” He stopped and waited for an answer that didn’t come. Osamu nodded. “Well, then. I’m sorry that he’s been bothering you, Oikawa-san. I’ll be sure that he stays where he belongs from now on.
Yukio stiffened as though he had been struck, but remained quiet. Whd hed he always have to remain quiet? Why couldn’t he ever speak out?
Osamu stared at him impassively for a moment and then paled as something suddenly occurred to him. The bruise . . . The boy’s eyes widened in both fury and disbelief and he took a step back as something horrifying occurred to him. The night he fell down the stairs trying to sneak out . . . the bruises . . . Ken’s weird behavior . . . the nightmares . . . The youth step forward menacingly, instantly closing the distance between him and the startled Yukio.
For months this had to have been going on! Months!! And Ken had never once come to him!! Instead he kept going back to see this . . . this . . .
Osamu’s eyes seemed to glow. “You bastard.” The words were a terse hiss that hung in the air—a coming storm.
Yukio’s eyes widened and he took a nervous step back, hands raised defensively. “Ichijouji-san, I don’t . . .”
Osamu advanced, grinding his teeth as a muscle in his jaw twitched. His voice was a powerful, low whisper. “There are things to be said about a man who spends all of his time with a six-year-old, Oikawa-san. So just how do you and my Kenny-boy pass the time?”
Yukio swayed on his feet. He knows. The entire world seemed to drop away beneath him and spots danced in front of his eyes. He knows.
The man licked his lips and took a shaky breath. “Ichijouji-san—”
“So you’d deny it now? The things you’ve been doing to him?” A smirk slid across the youngster’s handsome features, warping them into something cruel and unnatural. He leaned forward a bit and put his hands on his hips. “I’ll tell.”
Yukio turned white.
“I’ll make him tell. You know he will. He’ll do anything I tell him to. We’ll go to the police, to Momma and Poppa. We’ll expose you for the sick, twisted freak you are.” The smirk turned into a grin that bordered somewhere on the verge of maniacally sadistic. “Everyone will know.”
Yukio’s breath had quickened and everything seemed to be spinning—everything except Osamu’s hellishly glowing eyes. “What do you want?”
“Stay away from Ken. He belongs to me and no one—not you, not my parents, not anyone—is ever going to take him away from me. You got that? Stay away from him.”
Yukio nodded, and it felt like something in heart broke with the motion. Not trusting himself to speak—What could he say? He was exposed—the man turned around as walked away with faltering steps. Osamu’s words rang in his ears. “I’ll make him tell. You know he will. He’ll do anything I tell him to. Everyone will know.”
The elder Ichijouji brother watched as the interloper walked away, a deep, seething rage building inside him. “That imbecile . . .” His eyes narrowed as he stared after the retreating figure. “That idiot . . .” The thought occurred to him to tell anyway, just to be sure that Ken was safe, just to be sure that everything would be okay . . . But then they might take Ken away from him . . . He’d be alone. He brushed the feelings aside and turned to go inside.
But why hadn’t Ken told him? Ken told him everything. Except this. Why? The question plagued him all the way back up to his apartment and when he thought he found the answer the rage inside him built to something intolerable. His vision was literally tinted red and he was so furious, so overwhelmed with jealousy that he almost threw up. He closed and locked the apartment door behind him. His parents wouldn’t back for hours.
Violet eyes stared at the door to the bedroom at the near end of the hall and Osamu was moving towards it before he knew what he was doing. So that was what he wanted? That was what he wanted? Fine then. He’d get more than enough. He pushed the door open.
~~~ -+- ~~~
Ken whirled around as his bedroom door crashed open. His eyes widened in terror when he saw the look on Osamu’s face. He didn’t look angry or upset, he looked . . . pale. And his eyes gleamed in way that made Ken’s skin crawl. He had never seen a look like that on Osamu’s face.
“You little slut.”
The boy recoiled. He wanted to run as far away as he could, but he knew that there was nowhere to run. Not from Osamu Oniichan . . .
“You little faggot whore!” the older boy hissed. He reached out like a striking snake and seized Ken’s wrist, dragging him close. He screamed directly into the smaller boy’s face and his eyes seemed to gleam ominously. “Is that what you want?!! Is that what you fucking want, you little shit?!”
sti stiffened in horror. No! Nonononononono! How did he know? How could he possibly kno Rag Rage and shame made Ken pale and flush scarlet in turns. Oh, god . . .
“Is that it?!!! Answer me, goddamn you!” He threw Ken to the ground and started to take off his belt.
Ken stuttered helplessly and tried to back peddle, eyes locked on his brothers burning eyes and his desperation making him mute andmsy.msy. “O-Onii-Onii—”
“Nothing to say?” Osamu jerked the heavy leather belt out of the last loop. “Then we’ll just have to make you talk, won’t we?” He wound the end of the belt with the heavy steel buckle around one hand, letting the other end swing free suggestively.
Oh, god, no . . . He wouldn’t . . . He couldn’t . . . Osamu loved him . . .
“Tell me!”
The belt whistled as it cut through the air, smashing into Ken’s upraised hands with impossible for The The child shrieked in agony and instantly curled up into a fetal position, stinging hands protectively cradled against his belly. Tears were flowed down his cheeks. He couldn’t really . . .
“Shut up!!”
The belt fell again with a loud crack, striking Ken’s back this time. The thin t-shirt he wore offered no relief.
“Oniisan, please!!” he sobbed in fear and desperation.
“Shut up!”
Crack!
“Ahh!”
“You useless—”
Crack!
“Oniisan!!”
“Pathetic—”
Crack!
“P-puh—”
“Stupid—”
Crack!
“FREAK!!!!”
Crack!
“Did you want it?!!”
“NO!”
Crack!
“Liar!”
“N-nuh—”
Crack!
“You bitch!”
Crack!
“Did you like it?!”
“Nuh—”
Crack!
“Stop lying to me!!!!”
“Pu—ple—”
Crack!
“Is that what you want?!”
Crack!
“Is that what you want, you little pansy?!”
Crack!
“Y-yu—”
Crack!
“Say it louder, slut!”
“Yes!” Osa Osamu stopped, suddenly exhausted. Ken lay curled up in a ball at his feet, sobbing uncontrollably. In his terror the boy had wet his pants. He was shaking and crying helplessly and his brother stared down at him panting and looking wild. It was a powerful, heady feeling to know that he had been the one to do this; to hear the other boy screaming out for mercy and watch him spasm beneeverevery blow. He felt terribly hot and a painful erection strained against the fabric of his briefs. He hadn’t ever thought it possible to feel something this potent.
“Get up,” he gasped. The belt slid from his limp hands and hit the ground heavily. His face . . . he had to see Ken’s face . . .
The boy was shaking and sobbing, but he didn’t move.
The elder Ichijouji bent down and gripped his brother by the hair, yanking him to his feet. “I SAID GET UP!!” Ken shrieked and his bruised hands flew up to the crown of his head.
Tears flowed down Ken’s cheeks like two rivand and his face was red and splotchy. “Pu-pu-pu-pu—”
“This is what you want?” Osamu groaned. Still clutching Ken’s hair in one hand so that the boy couldn’t escape, he began to fumble with zipper of his pants with the other. “You want this?”
The child in his cruel grip started to hyperventilate when he realized what his brother was doing, but he couldn’t move. His entire body was frozen and a scream had lodged itself in his throat, choking him and preventing him from crying out.
Osamu shook him, obviously expecting and answer. “You want this, slut?!” He pulled his aching erection free from pants and wrapped his hand around the swollen length, slowly stroking it. “You want it?”
Ken choked and gagged, almost throwing up. The scent of sex and sweat was overpowering and bile rose into the little boy’s throat. He trembled when his brother’s eyes narrowed dangerously and began to nod frantically, still unable to speak. He’d do anything to avoid another beating. Tears slid down his cheeks with renewed force.
The wild-haired boy stopped caressing himself and used his hand to grip Ken’s jaw, squeezing it until his lips parted. “Suck me!” he ordered even as he thrust himself into his brother’s mouth. “Take it all and swallow every last drop!”
The boy gagged as Osamu pushed his entire length into his mouth and his gag reflex instantly kicked in, sending his stomach into heaves. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Yukio-san . . . The older boy squeezed his jaw painfully as a warning and Ken swallowed hard to keep from vomiting. Osamu shuddered and aan san slipped out from between his lips as the sensation of Ken’s swallowing hit him. He pulled out a bit and thrust in again. “ . . .Ken . . .”
Ken started to suck.
“Aa-aah!”
Osamu tossed his head back and stared at the ceiling, eyes wide and mouth open to form a little “o” shape. His hand relaxed begabegan to stroke the other boy’s hair as sensations washed over him in wave after wave of inconceivable pleasure. If felt so damn good . . . Hot and wet and hard and the pull . . .
“Oh, Ken . . . Harder . . .” His voice was a strained whimper.
His hips started to work faster in and out of the little boy’s mouth and Ken obligingly increased the force of his ministrations.
“Kenkenkenken . . .”
This is so right . . . He squeezed eyes shut and opened his mouth in a silent moan. This is how it should be. My Ken . . . Mine. This is mine. Oh god . . . this is how it belongs . . .
“Oh, yessss! Ken . . .” It seemed so right to murmur that name like that.
His entire body stiffened and he felt his penis swell to impossible proportions. “Ah, ah, ah, ah—” He came.
He pushed himself as far as he could go into the vacuum of his brother’s mouth, vaguely aware crushing the boys face hard against his abdomen and the other’s frantic struggle as he swwed wed more than he was prepared for, and shot his seed straight down the other boy’s throat. Ken’s reaction was instantaneous and he choked and coughed around the object in his mouth and struggled desperately to free himself. The urge to throw up wverpverpowering. Osamu’s grip was like iron, though, and he had no choice but to swallow the bitter froth that was filling his mouth. He swallowed convulsively six times as Osamu continued to pour himself into him blindly. It felt like he was swallowing crushed glass.
Then Osamu suddenly knocked him aside and staggered backwards. His eyes were wild and panicked as he stared down at his brother. He stuffed his sated organ back into his pants with shaking hands and looked around him in sudden shock. His eyes landed on Ken again. A cracked whisper creaked out from between dry lips. “Go take a bath.”
The boy fled.
Osamu swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. What had he done? He hadn’t meant to . . . He hadn’t meant to . . . Oh, my god . . . His head began to throb horribly.
In the bathroom, Ken bent over the toilet and threw up. As he watched the white fluid pouring out of his mouth his stomach heaved again. It was several minutes before he stopped. When he was finished he collapsed in a heap on the floor; his back, previously numb and hot, now felt like it was on fire. He lay on the floor for nearly an twenty minutes before he found the strength to rise and run bath water. I wish he would die, he thought with the fiercely intense hatred of fast burning rage. I wish he would just disappear! He didn’t cry though. He had no tears left.
~~~ -+- ~~~
Seven Hours Later:
Osamu stared blankly at the darkened ceiling of his room. His head was pounding mercilessly and he blinked slowly. All he could see was Ken’s face when he had pulled himself out and knocked the other boy dowFearFear and hate. Those were two emotions that Osamu understood very well, but he had never wanted to see them on Ken’s face . . . Not directed at him. It was almost more that he could bear.
A soft, hesitant knock on Osamu’s door startled him from his thoughts and he held very still, evening out his breathing and allowing his eyes to flutter shut to feign sleep.
A quiet voice followed the knock and Osamu stiffened. “Oniisan . . .?”
Kenny-boy . . .
The door open anblueblue head appeared in the frame, not daring to enter the room without permission. “Oniisan, it’s dark. . . . I’m scared.”
Osamu remained still. He didn’t want Ken near him.
“Oniisan, I’m sorry. Please don’t be angry with me. I’m scared . . . Please?”
The older boy squeezed his eyes shut against the tears he could hear in that voice.
The child in the doorway snuffled once and started to close the door.
“Ken.”
The door opened again and Osamu sat up in his bed, looking down in the doorway. Shadows obscured his brother’s face, but there was a tension in his shoulders that hadn’t been there a year ago. It was the same tension that Osamu bore and he knew it well. Too many adult responsibilities and adult secrets for someone so young. How did he miss all this? He was supposed to protect Ken. Ken was all he had.
samusamu Oniichan?”
It was a request and Osamu pulled back his covers and extended his arms to his brother without a second thought. The little boy closed the door and clambered up the ladder, practically throwing himself into his big brother’s arms when he reached the top of the bed. He was shaking.
Osamu hugged him close, taking comfort in giving him comfort, and rocked back and forth. After a few minutes Ken slid underneath the covers and they both lay down, the younger brother still cradled protectively in the elder’s arms, careful to avoid the fresh welts that had risen on Ken’s back.
“I love you, Kenny-boy. You know that, right? I love you more than anything in the world. I’d do anything for you.”
“I know, Osamu Oniich I l I love you, too.”
Osamu relaxed and waited until he felt Ken slip into sleep before he laid a gentle but possessive kiss on his forehead. I’ll never let anyone hurt you, he promised silently. “I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you . . .” He was still murmuring it when he went to sleep.
Their parents arrived home two hours later and the first thing they did was check on their children. Despite the fact that Osamu’s room was at the end of the hall, they checked him first. They did it without thinking—they had always checked the firstborn first.
Rika leaned against the doorjamb and heaved a very maternal sigh at the sight of her sons snuggled up against one another in slumber. “Aren’t they just precious?” she murmured as Tsuyoshi came to stand behind her.
“Absolute angels,” her husband concurred. “We’re very lucky to have them both.”
Rika smiled at him. “We are lucky, aren’t we? Everything is just perfect. I couldn’t imagine leading a better life.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned against his chest. “It would be nice if things would never change and we could all be like this forever.”
Tsu nodded as he inhaled the scent of her shampoo and watched his sons sleep. It just couldn’t get any better than this.
~~~ -+- ~~~
Yukio paced the length of his apartment in agitation. His head ached, his shoulders were stiff, and he felt ill. He was very hot and it occurred to him that he may have a fever, but he brushed the notion aside. It had been three weeks since he had last seen Ichijouji Ken: three long, long empty weeks. He still had Hiroki, but it just wasn’t the same. Ken was a part of him—he was in his blood. He was a drug that Yukio couldn’t get out of his system and the urge to go over to his apartment was overpowering . . .
He groaned.
The telephone rang, startling him and he paused in his pacing; he did not, however, make any move to answer it. He already knew who it was. The answering machine obligingly picked up.
“Yukio? . . . I know that you’re there, Yukio. Pick up the phone. What’s wrong with you? You seem ill. You haven’t been eating and you look like you haven’t slept in weeks. Hijiri says that you haven’t been to work in two weeks. If this continues you could lose your job. Don’t you care? . . . Yukio? Please talk to me. Yukio?” The caller sighed into the receiver. “I have to go to work, Yukio. I should be back on Friday. There’s an ambassador in town and I have to protect him. Call me, alright? Whatever it is, we can figure it out, okay? Best friends, Yuk. Don’t ever forget that.”
“Hiroki . . .” The whisper sounded dry and old and hung in the tense air a bit too long.
Hiroki couldn’t—mustn’t—ever know. If he found out . . .
“I’ll tell. I’ll make him tell. You know he will. He’ll do anything I tell him to. Everyone will know.”
Yukio shuddered. “My little Ichijouji Ken—”
But he wasn’t his—not anymore. Now he belonged to Osamu Oniichan again. Now there couldn’t be any more second-guessing. He had accepted Osamu’s conditions. He had walked away. He had to live with his decisions. Yukio bit his lower lip. Ken . . .
He walked over to the phone decisively and lifted it up off the cradle. He had to live with his decision. But maybe . . . someday . . . He dialed the number, not noticing the tiny tremors in his hands. Someday . . . someday maybe there wouldn’t be an Osamu Oniichan . . . The phone rang. Someday . . . “Hello, Hiroki? It’s me. Yes. I’m sorry, too. Listen, what are you doing right now?”
But for now there was this and he would have to make do.