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Pins and Needles	By : libek Category: Digimon > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 5186 -:- 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-Prelude
- 2-Daisuke
- 3-Yamato
- 4-Ken
- 5-Yamato
- 6-Miyako
- 7-Ken
- 8-Yamato
- 9-Takeru
- 10-Ken
- 11-Yamato
- 12-Ken
- 13-Yamato
- 14-Hikari
- 15-Ken
- 6
- 7
- 8
DISCLAIMER: See previous parts.

A/N: w00t! See the wonder that IS stock fanfic! Here's another chapter, and I hope it's almost good enough to make up for the long silence. >3 The promised cheesecake. Although there WILL be more of it soon, oh yes. There will be more.

Pins and Needles

Part Seven

by Libek

Sometimes, Ken thought the prison's layout rather inconvenient. This was most definitely one of those times. Only four floors aboveground, all of them relatively normal except for a complete lack of windows (normal windows would have been suicide with the eraterature outside) and none of them any larger than those of an apartment building. There were stairs to get from one level to the next, and of course a front door -- heavily guarded at the moment, though it also had a fascinating security system that had vaporized six guards before Ken determined its parameters and deactivated it. These floors were the living quarters, with all the comforts of home and several lavbedrbedrooms. The bathing room took up the entire fourth floor, with only a small hallway at one end to allow for the stairs.

Then there was the rest of the prison, all of it underneath the innocent-looking apartment building. A command center just below the ground floor with a terribly out-of-date camera system that seemed to have originally monitored most of the cells but now no longer worked. An extensive laminated papetabatabase of different digimon types and their peculiarities. Some notations on various...experiments, all of which were rather intriguing. It was matte black, of course -- painted over the stone -- and the BlacBlack Matter monitors glowed faintly purple, providing the only light. Even though many things about the prison were broken down and useless, the Digimon Kaizer would not have set up his base anywhere else.

Below this command center were several hundred tiers with a maximum capacity of...some enormous number that Ken did not currently care to tally. It was a simple matter of multiplication, of course, but he had never bothered to count the number of cells on a single tier and that was a figure necessary to the equation. No matter. The important thing at the moment was that he had just marched Ishida-kun up eight flights simply to take a decent bath. Granted that three of them had been in the lift, but he had been tired when he went to see Ishida-kun and he was exhausted now. The complete and utter lack of conversation was also beginning to grind his nerves.

Normally, the Digimon Kaizer enjoyed having quiet moments in which to hear the workings of his own advanced mind, for letting others speak their piece was all too frequently a waste of time. However, when these moments came, he liked those around him to be either reverently silent or fearfully so, and though there were elements of each in Ishida-kun's determinedly-lowered head, still it seemed...

Never mind. At least there was some reverence, some fear. In the future, feelings such as these could always be increased. They were elusive weeds in even the most carefully-tended garden, and once they took root, it was only a matter of time.

Only a matter of time.


So deeply mired hesehese thoughts was he that when he put his hands on the ornate wooden doors that led into the bathing room and pushed, the Digimon Kaizer almost did not notice his captive's sharp intake of breath. Even once the noise had registered, processing took some time. Six months ago, he would have felt far less confounded. He was used to the luxury of the upper levels now, and the bathing room was still a sight to behold; after three days in a cold stone cell, he too might have stopped on the threshold with his mouth foolishly agape and his eyes stretched wide.

An exquisite mural ran around all four walls with pretty women in kimono and many different types of animals. Each wall was painted in a different season, here the cherry trees in full bloom, their pink petals a delicate storm around the heads of the smiling ladies; there a group of women crossing a snow-covered bridge with paper umbrellas over their heads, brittle leaves skating the frozen surface of the river beneath them. There were foxes and cranes and nightingales among them, white rabbits playing in the snow. The summer scene was unfortunately truncated by the necessity of a showering area, but the tile at least looked expensive -- white marble shot through with what appeared to be real gold. The shower heads matched it, as did the occasional mounted dish with various oddly-scented liquid soaps, shampoos, and cream rinses; they seemed to be blends of indigenous flowers and fruits.

Directly opposite the showering area was the bath itself, slightly raised abthe the floor and obsidian in material. At either end, there were small fountainat cat constantly cycled in fresh, purified water from the abundant supply of snow and ice outside. It was far too large to be anything but a public bath, but it was also the only one Ken had ever seen without a partition down the middle to separate the sexes. The water was always wonderfully hot and currently smelled faintly of lilac oil; a complicated-looking control panel in the far corner would have changed this, but Ken had always liked lilac oil. As far as things of this sort went, at any rate.
&nbsWhatWhat little space remained was taken up by a smallish ornate rock garden, a sectioned-off steam room, a rack of towels and a number of cubbies in which to temporarily store one's clothing, and a long thin obsidian trough of cold water with many stools on either side of it and pretty silver buckets in case a body felt the need to cleanse himself in an even more traditional manner. The prison records suggested that the mural had been painted solely by one of the original overseers, and that most of the materials had been 'imported', so to speak, from the Real World. Its entire design, from the Western doors down to the last drop of ink in the mural, seemed to confirm Ken's suspicions about just who those original overseers had been, but he still hadn't had the time to ask...


No matter. The Digimon Kaizer turned his attention back to Ishida-kun, and smiled. Ever since they had breached the first of the upper levels, the older boy had been visibly ill at ease. Now the surprise was fading from his face, and something far closer to fear was taking its place. Only a few days in his cell, and comfort had already become something disconcerting. The warmth of this room, its vastness, even its beauty, were setting off tiny screaming alarms in his head. What excellent progress.

"If you like," the Digimon Kaizer offered blithely, "I could arrange for you to be cleaned up with the other Cadets. I understand that they are marched in and out of a subzero stone passage hardly larger than their sleeping quarters and hosed down with lukewarm water for minutes at a time."

Ishida-kun blinked slowly, and struggled unsuccessfully for a moment to tear his eyes from the view. "No," he said, distraction making him sound marvelously uncertain. "No, that's all right. I'm just a little bit...surprised, is all. Why...? Why is it so warm here? I -- I don't understand..." He crossed his arms over his chest, hands rubbing in a way that was almost convulsive.


"Heating vents. A boiler room. Just like any other relatively old building," Ken replied, bemused by the question. Ishida-kun was sort of cute like this, so completely off-guard. It wasn't the practiced sex appeal of his concerts. It wasn't a practiced anything. And it was just so much more refreshing than his usual charismatic smiles.

After a few seconds, he realized that he was standing in place and staring off into space most unproductively and spun on his heel to continue their interrupted journey to the bath. Ishida-kun followed him semi-automatically, though he was obviously still nervous of the room, and kept darting anxious glances around it when he thought the Digimon Kaizer wasn't looking. Thankfully, however, this inattention did not cause them to collide when Ken came to a halt in front of the showering area; once more, the older boy followed his lead without seeming especially aware of what he was doing.


"Yamato-chan?" Ken prompted in a falsely cheerful voice.

That certainly got his attention. "What did you call me?" Ishida-kun demanded, his eyes fof tof the most amusing shock and indignation. Yes, he was so very cute.

However, instead of replying straightaway, the Digimon Kaizer waited until he was certain that Ishida-kun understood exactly how unwise his comment had been. They were, after all, in a life or death situation in which he, Ken, held all of the most important cards. In fact, he was fairly sure that he held every card. When he saw that sickly knowledge in the older boy's eyes, when his soft pale lips parted to form some hopeless apology, only then did Ken speak. "I called you by your given name, with a degrading suffix attached. Such is my right, as I am your master. Don't you remember?"


The blond swallowed and nodded reluctantly. His eyes were fixed on the intricate pattern in the pretty marble tiles on the floor. "I -- I remember," he muttered.

Ken waited, and it almost didn'te, be, but then Ishida-kun blinked rapidly and added, "Digimon Kaizer-sama." Terribly belated, but there nonetheless. He smiled, stretching the expression until he was nearly frowning. Part of him was going to miss the bitterness in that word after Ishida-kun learned his place and stopped being so reluctant. Part of him always did. Fortunately, there were always more slaves to be broken.

"There's a good boy," he murmured affectionately. Ah, but positive reinforcement was a necessary evil. "Now, go ahead and disrobe. The shower heads are motion-sensitive, the bottles contain body wash and shampoo. There's also conditioner if you need it. Use however much of them as you see fit and please be quick. This is taking all day, and I would much rather be asleep already."

A strange red flush of blood shot into the older boy's pale pink cheeks at this instruction. "What -- with you standing right there?" he demanded.

He was embarrassed. The Digimon Kaizer did frown then, in puzzlement. "Yes, naturally. You don't expect me to leave you to your own devices, do you? Let you drown yourself or try to escape?"

The flush darkened considerably. "I'd, uh, really rather not, if it's all the same to you. Can't you get one of your enslaved digimon in here to make sure I don't try anything? Even two or three, if you think it's necessary. Then they could take me back to my cell, and you can get to sleep that much sooner!"


Although Ken was tired enough that the mere mention of sleep tempted him, he gritted his teeth and shook his head. "Take off your clothes and get on with it. You are behaving irrationally." When he saw Ishida-kun opening his mouth a third time, the Digimon Kaizer all but snarled. "Is there some trouble with your hearing, Yamato-chan? Perhaps the cold weather has done it permanent damage? That was an order."

Nothing else had worked, but this last comment was most effective. Ishida-kun flinched as though he expected to be struck and began to unfasten the many catches and buttons that ran along the inside of every fur cloak. He hesitated when they were all open, but not so long that Ken could comment on it, and soon the cloak was nothing more than a puddle of heavy material on the tiled floor. The ugly grey sweatshirt was quick to follow, and Ken was glad of this in a way that had very little to do with mere perversion. He had designed the uniforms for his prisoners thinking only of practicality; they were a dull shade of dark grey and came only in whole sizes. Some of the other Cadets looked odd in them, but none quite as awful as Ishida-kun, who was both too pale and too pink for the color as well as being an awkward fit. Ken wanted to hurt the child who had thought to bring it to him.

Then the sweatpants were around Ishida-kun's ankles and his nakedness drew the Digimon Kaizer's thoughts away from punishments. He was really very nice-looking. Beautiful, with the heat of embarrassment lingering in his face. One could almost be made not to mind the foreign look of him, or the almost invisible but slightly too prevalent hairs on his forearms and slender calves. Between his legs -- well, that was hard to say, given the fact that Ishida-kun was protecting that particular area with his hands. His nipples were soft rosy circles on his smooth chest, and his pretty almond-shaped blue eyes were pointed firmly downwards. Avoidance, obviously. It was as if he found something about this more than just vaguely sexual.

Slowly, thoughtfully, Ken stepped forward and closed the distance between their bodies. Sexual? No, he hadn't meant it to be. He had only wanted to get Ishida-kun cleaned up before he spread the smell of sweat and dirt onto the clean silk sheets. But if the blond were expecting to be molested and such a thing never came to pass, he might feel relief at its absence. Relief was something to be reserved for rewards, and Ken did not want to reward the older boy for anything he had done so faray, ay, even indirectly.

Besides, a little molestation might have been fun.

He circled the older boy patiently, and saw how his eyes followed the progression in tiny jerking glimpses -- always quickly looking at the floor between them. It pleashe Dhe Digimon Kaizer. He brushed the tip of one finger over Ishida-kun's spine and laughed softly when the touch provoked a startled jump and a tiny gasp. He loved the way all of the muscles in Ishida-kun's back tensed when he moved closer still, and the faint shudder that went through the blond when his own cloak brushed against bare pink skin. This was it, he thought, as he pressed his lips just briefly to Ishida-kun's naked shoulder and elicited a strangled whimper. This was power.

With artful carelessness, Ken slid his fingers down along the older boy's smooth flanks. He was careful to avoid the arms, even though they had fallen to Ishida-kun's sides like limp weights. Later, he would have to do something about of of that hair, but for the moment, he was content to simply not touch it. For the moment, he was content to place his palms on Ishida-kun's hips and trace his index fingers over the bones under his skin. He was so tall, tall in a way that threatened, like Yagami-kun, to be lanky -- but in his case was saved by a strange sort of delicateness to his bone structure. Elven. Like his eyes with their long thick lashes.

Like himself, Ken thought. Except that the older boy had never taken the time to put any real muscle on his body. They were both slender, both pretty, but there was a softness to Ishida-kun that he did not possess, and it wasn't only physical. He was soft in ways that the Digimon Kaizer had not been for years and years.

It was enticing, that softness. It made Ken want to dig his fingers into Ishida-kun's pale pink flesh until he bruised the delicate skin. It made Ken want to force Ishida-kun's legs apart and fuck him until he bled, until he cried, until he screamed with the unwelcome pleasure of it. Rape never really worked that way, of course, but rape wasn't what he wanted. Not exactly, anyway. Any idiot could rape someone. All you needed was a little rope or a weapon or even a half-decent threat. But to seduce the unwilling -- ah, that required thought. Practice. Care. That was a game worthy of the Digimon Kaizer.


At some point, he had started to stroke Ishida-kun's soft blond hair. His fingers were tangled in it, and the older boy was having difficulty breathing. Confused, Ken wondered whether this was some odd personal erogenous zone, but then realized that the trouble was fear rather than lust. Pity, but almost as rewarding. He withdrew and counted seconds in his head to see how long it took Ishida-kun to recover.

Precisely three minutes and forty-six seconds later, the blond gasped out, "What was that?"

He had to purse his lips to keep from laughing. "That, Yamato-san, was me touching you. With my hands. And once with my mouth."

"Are you going to do it again?" Ishida-kun asked quietly.


The Digimon Kaizer pretended to consider the question very carefully. "Yes," he said, after what he judged to be the right amount of time. "I think I will. It was really quite pleasant."

Tension rippled through Ishida-kun's back, but that was all. Neither of them moved or spoke for several minutes -- until Ken rather thought the older boy had forgotten about the shower he was supposed to be taking.

"Are you going to wash off?" he finally prompted, half-amused and half-irritated. "If you're too tired, I could help..."


Ishida-kun reacted to this suggestion as though it had been a threat of far greater abuse, and the Digimon Kaizer was delighted. He shook his head, thinking that if only a few light touches had affected the older boy this much ell,ell, then the coming weeks would be extremely entertaining. With a faint smile on his lips, Ken tooka poa post to one side of the showering area, his back to the cool plaster, his eyes on Ishida-kun's body while he in turn valiantly tried to pretend there was a wall or even just a thick curtain between them. The poor thing kept losing his grip on the bottles of soap.

"Wash your back, Yamato-san?" the Digimon Kaizer enquired bemusedly.

There was no immediate response; when Ishida-kun turned to look at him, his eyes were searching -- hoping, perhaps, to see a glimmer of good humor in Ken's expression. As there had been no such glimmer, his shoulders sagged. "I...if you have to," Ishida-kun mumbled, and looked away, his eyes slipping shut preemptively as if seeing the Digimon Kaizer standing there were really so painful that he could not have waited those few seconds.

Feeling his temper rise dangerously but not caring, Ken grabbed the older boy's bare shoulder and twisted until they were face to face once more. Still Ishida-kun would not look at him, and it took a terrible amount of willpower not to keep squeezing until something broke.

"Look at me," he hissed, ducking his own head to meet the blond's eyes. "Look at me when I talk to you. Look at me when I am silent. Unless I tell you specifically to pay attention to something else, you will look at me!"

Frantic nodding. The grip on his arm appeared to be causing Ishida-kun a great deal of pain. Ken frowned slowly and let go of him, but did not back away and began to undo his own cloak, shucking it and the rest of his clothing into an untidy pile on the floor. Something about this action made Ishida-kun whimper quietly, but the Digimon Kaizer paid him no mind. He was looking, and that was the important thing. That was the important thing.

"Turn around," he heard himself saying dully.


This time, Ishida-kun did not hesitate. He kept his head at an odd angle, though, so that he could peer over his shoulder at the Digimon Kaizer and not risk angering him. For his part, Ken snatched a bottle of soap, emptied a quantity of it into his palm, worked it into a thick if faintly blue lather, and applied it to the smooth planes of the older boy's back. Neither of them spoke for several minutes, and Ken was extremely glad of it. He closed his eyes and breathed in the shower's steam, nudging Ishida-kun forward so that some of the warm spray would reach his body, as well. The day had been so stressful, in so many different ways.

But this was nice. Hot water, the pressure of it a miniature massage on his skin; a sweet scent in the air from the body wash; even Ishida-kun's warm, pliant skin underneath his hands. There was something very soothing about the rote movements, the everyday quiet and the sound of someone else's even breathing. It reminded him of home. Almost of their own volition, his hands slipped from Ishida-kun's shoulder blades and followed his ribs from spine to sternum, spreading the gently-foaming body wash everywhere. When Ken opened his eyes again, the lids felt odd and heavy. Their bodies were flush once more, made -- if anything -- only more intimate by his own nudity, but Ishida-kun did not appear to be uy wiy with it now. The change in him was...not unpleasant.
&

Gradually, the Digimon Kaizer pulled away. His arms had somehow wound themselves about Ishida-kun's waist, and he did not want to ponder what the blonght ght have been thinking of him. He had said he was tired, but Ishida-kun could not have known exactly how tired. Even he had not fully grasped the magnitude of its effect on him. Ken had never missed his home before. His mother, his father. The last time his mother had taken a bath with him like that, he had been -- what -- two, perhaps as old as three? Insects. They were all insects when compared to him. He did not need them, did not want them, and certainly did not miss them -- missing them would have been like missing Wormmon's pathetic way of clinging to his leg.

He had gotten all the way over to the other side of the room and was reaching for a towel to dry his hair when he heard the sudden silence that meant Ishida-kun had stepped out from underneath the showerhead. A few seconds later, the soft almost slippery noises of his bare feet on the tile. Ken's own movements became inexplicably jerky and awkward.


"Um...are you okay?" the blond ventured.

"I'm fine," he said shortly.

"Oh. Because when you ran off like that --"

"I didn't run off!" the Digimon Kaizer snapped. Everything about Ishida-kun angered him suddenly, even the way he was standing perfectly still. So fucking composed. "Forgive me if I'm not exactly eager to touch a thing like you."


He watched the words penetrate with a sick sort of fascination, saw the confusion and the surprise. "A -- a thing?" Ishida-kun repeated in a hollow sort of voice. "I9;m 9;m not a thing..."

&nbs
"Oh," Ken murmured, and felt a smile spreading across his lips that could not have been happiness, "but you are. Tell me, I'm feeling morbidly curious -- where exactly was it?"

"It?" More confusion, but the surprise was fading. Perhaps he had an inkling of where this was leading. Perhaps he had heard it all before.


Unfortunately, Ken's patience had evaporated. "The foreigner," he explained, disgusted but vaguely amused that there had been any other possibility.

All of the tension in Ishida-kun's posture snapped back into place, and that expression of lingering disbelief simply froze on his face. At once, the Digimon Kaizer realized that he truly had not known, had not anticipated. Foolish of him. Certainly, there had been something of an unspoken rule among the Chosen Children that no one ever mention either Ishida-kun or Takaishi-kun's obviously mixed blood, but hadn't anyone ever said anything to him before? Or...was it only shocking coming from Ken? But he could not be that naive. He must have figured out by now that he wasn't dealing with simpering little Ichijouji Ken any longer.

Yet, from the expression on Ishida-kun's face...his mouth opening and closing as though groping for words that simply were not there...

"My grandfather. On my mom's side," was what the older boy finally said, and even then his voice came out small and choked. "His family lives in France. We...we go to see them sometimes...in the summer." Saying all of this seemed to have taken a great deal out of him, however, and he fell awkwardly silent on that note.

The shame in that confession, the way it strangled him -- the Digimon Kaizer dragged his tongue over the roof of his mouth, trying to taste it. He couldn't quite get the flavor, he liked it. He wanted to hear more of it. "I thought as much. All of that hair...the source must have been something recent."

"Oh." Another red flush was rising swiftly in Ishida-kun's cheeks. He glanced down at his own body and then drew his arms across his chest in a way that seemed protective. "I usually shave it off when I'm at home, but..."


That was almost too precious. He could have been livid, but he was not; far from anger, he was behaving as though the reaction were actually something understandable! At the same time, however, Ken could not help but feel slightly frustrated. If the blond were already compelled to use a razor blade on his skin, then enforcing such a thing would have been...redundant, at best. What could he do that would be worse? Then a thought occurred that made him smirk.

"I think wax would be more appropriate, don't you?"

Ishida-kun winced almost violently, his lips twisting in a grimace that looked painful. He swallowed and appeared to be summoning the last vestige of his inner strength. "I...I guess I could get used to that. Mimi told me about it once, it's supposed to be okay on tight skin..."

He could feel the smirk stretching all of the muscles in his face as he fought not to widen it over much. "Oh, I didn't mean only on your arms and legs, Yamato-chan."

The expression on the older boy's face...oh, he tried to shift into steely indifference so quickly, tried to shutter his emotions, but the blind panic left such a strong impression behind -- that handful of seconds where his fear was laid bare and vulnerable to all prying eyes -- that he might have just as well not bothered. Would Daisuke have reacted in the same way?

"Is...is that really necessary?" Ishida-kun asked softly, and his eyes remained ever-so-slightly too big for his face.

"Certainly," Ken told him, rather condescending. "If I found fur attractive, I would be dragging digimon to my bed by the hundreds."


Another delicious flash of shame. He really was his own worst enemy, the idiotic boy. None of these comments would have wounded him half so grievously if he hadn't already entertained similar thoughts himself. "I just..."

"You just...?" the Digimon Kaizer parroted mockingly. He reached out his left hand and trailed the fingers of it down one of Ishida-kun's pale pink arms, deliberately brushing back those tiny hairs.

The way that he swallowed and stepped backwards, trying to put some small distance between them, was adorable. In a pitifully futile sort of way. "Is this how you hurt Taichi?" Ishida-kun half-whispered.


Something in his tone suggested that perhaps he did not truly want an answer to this question, but the Digimon Kaizer could barely prevent himself from laughing out loud. The very idea of Yagami-kun unbroken in his bed! He would have been murdered in the night. "No," he replied, more seriously. "I never did reach that point with him."

There was an insult buried in that statement, the bitterly amusing irony that it had taken five days to make less progress on the other boy, and as soon as the words were out of his mouth, Ken worried that this might have been too subtle for Ishida-kun to spot. He had never considered the older boy particularly intelligent. But there it was, that tiny spark of anger in his eyes, the way they narrowed and the sudden heat in his pretty face. Ken was tempted, oh so tempted, to drive the point home and make him feel like utter and complete shit, but...

He turned away. "Go back to the showers. I'll help you."

Such a small gesture, but most likely the kindest thing he had done in months, offering to help Ishida-kun with the hot wax -- but the blond did not seem to realize this or appreciate it for what it was. Just as well, really.

To be continued...
- 6
- 7
- 8
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Pins and Needles