Stitched Gray Heart

Stitched Gray Heart.

Disclaimer and Warning: I do not own Digimon. Simple as that. Lets leave it at that.

Now for the warning. If you are at all sensitive to the concept of homosexuality, do NOT read this. If you are offended by the thought of Digimon , even the humanoid and semi-humanoid Digimon having sex, especally gay sex, do NOT read this. If you are offended by rape, mild bloodsport and other non consentual sexplay, do NOT read this. Well... you can, but I will say this now. If you have constructive critisism, preferably in delicious, helpful detail... then by all means, I’d love to hear it. If, on the other hand, you are one of a number of dickless flamers who reads something, DESPITE the warning, and goes on to complain about how horribly offended you were by the genre and content... then you, to shamelessly steal a bit from Diskworld, should be disqualified from the human race for shoving.

Well anyway... Myotismon fans beware. While I am neutral on the subject of that pale digital vampire, I do not portray him in a particularly nice light in this fic, in personality or situation. On that same note, Wizardmon fans also beware, I guess. Bad things happen to poor Wizzie... *Ruffles the sad eyed little sorceror on the head, under his hat*

~’s denote Wizardmon’s thoughts, and on with the show...

Gatomon purred sweetly, arching her chin up to allow greater access to the silky fur at her throat, shamelessly lounging in Wizardmon’s lap as he stroked musing fingers, parting thin runnels in the perfect coat as he let the thick leather fingers of his gloves run musingly across her fur. A half hidden, quirky little smile tweaking the sides of his thin, stitch marred lips, his brilliant emerald eyes half slitted as he leaned against the cold stones behind him, the gray chill and close around the two figures of the lounging Digimon reclining in the corner of the small, sparsely furnished room. Shameless in her regal sprawl, she lay across her best friend’s lap, one gloved paw gently kneading at the soft, baggy cloth of his leg, the tiny pinpricks tickling at the gray flesh hidden beneath.

Eyes half lidded in the odd way of cats, Gatomon twisted, one hand gently rising... to bat at her companions face. Leaning back with an easy, tolerant gesture, he smiled beneath the enveloping, concealing cloth of his collar. His voice, rough and mellow, slips out, almost a purr in itself. “Now what is that for?”

Gatomon purrs luxuriously, slipping into a sitting position and idly curling her tail around his waist, squeezing gently. “Wizardmon, it’s been a while since I’ve seen your face...”

Propped against the wall, Wizardmon paused at her words, slowly twisting to glance at her, a long brush of straw gold hair half falling over one brilliant green eye... “What?” The flat, gray skin crinkles between his eyes, perplexed. “Why would you want to-” He gently moves back, evading her playful paw. “-look at my face for?”

Stoically ignoring the sliding drop of cold sweat suddenly beading at his temple, he blinks through his bangs, gently leaning back as her gloved paw slips forward once more, one claw catching and tugging at the edge of the dark cloth...

His hand rose, rough brown leather creaking as he gently placed his own hand over hers, fingers squeezing amiably. He tried to sound cheerful. “I’d rather you not...”

Her smile faded, feline lips half curling into the beginnings of a pout. “But why Wizardmon? ...you don’t have to feel ashamed anymore... I’ve seen the stitches, I’m not embarrassed-”

“It’s not that...” His hand squeezes hers, gently removing the claw from the cloth, placing it in his other hand, holding hers as he looks her in the eye. “It’s just that... that...” ~What the hell am I supposed to tell her? ‘I’m sorry Gatomon, Lord Myotismon’s been playing with my face again and I’m not sure all the scars have healed yet?’ ...what the hell am I going to tell her...~

Her eyes were confused and hurt, her head tilted ever so slightly, one ear half cocked in that sweet way of hers... he hated keeping her in the dark... if only the truth weren’t what it was...

Her eyes grew cold, her ears flicking back a little as she eased herself off his lap, slipping away a few musing steps, glancing over her shoulder at him. Her tail was stiff. “You don’t have to tell me anything Wizardmon. I am a cat. I understand secrets...”

Sighing, he leans against the wall, letting the rim of his hat slip a little further over his face, letting the shadows envelop him... “I am sorry, my dear Gatomon... it is nothing. Do not drive yourself up the wall over it.”

Seated by the single window, she lets her eyes drift over the glass clouded distance... “Sure... whatever. It doesn’t matter.” Her taild hld him otherwise.

Green eyes focu on on an unremarkable stone, he sighed slowly, his voice bitter. ~I can’t even enjoy a moment with my best friend... I am so sorry Gatomon. I know... I know we’ve always been open with each other... but there are some things... things I can hardly even believe myself are happening... how could I ever tell you what’s happened? What’s been happening every night for the last god knows how many months??~ Silent, he trailed a gloved fingertip over the stones beneath him, the movements unfocused and meandering. His eyes stared off into space, a deep, troubled green...

~She may be a cat... but she respects me...~ Narrowed eyes turned at the movements of the leather gloves across the stone, one ear cocked... ~oh, sure... she respects me... now.~ Ring clinking across the cold, rough stones, the striped tail slashes once, waving with languid intensity... ~I could never tell her. I couldn’t... I couldn’t bear it... the way she would look at me. The revilement. The disgust... cat’s are so clean... she would recoil from this... taint.~ A long, whispering sigh gently slips between the tight, strained stitching of his lips... His finger dragged across the stone, listless...

A quick flash of purple and white, a laughing growl- “What- OW!” Pulling back in startlement, Wizardmon recoiled, falling onto his side with a thump-

Gatomon purred, cat lips pulled back in a sheepish grin... well, that which wasn’t obscured by the hanging leather of the glove. Pulling the her her from her mouth, she grinned toothily, her ears flushed. “Sorry...”

His hand ached, clenched in the folds of his cloak... he stuttered, his voice short and clipped. “Hey, no harm done... just give it back, okay?”

Flashing him an odd look, Gatomon tilted her head, regarding him for a long moment... “Um... as you wish, Wizardmon...”

He held out his remaining gloved hand, carefully keeping his hand hidden in his cloak... Shrugging, she hefted the glove, nodding and placing it into his open palm. He let out a relieved sigh...

Striped cat glove snapping out, she thrust her hand into his coat, grasping his wrist firmly and pulled...

“What? NO-” Wrenching his hand back, Wizardmon recoiled, his hand jammed back into the dark recesses of his cloak- too late. She had seen it... one of many marks...

“Wizardmon...” Her voice is even. “Wizardmon... why are the stitches on your fingers... blue?”

Tucked into his coat, his fingers curl... feeling the thin, sharp strings cut into the cool gray flesh. ~Oh Gatomon... I don’t even know if I have any of my original stitching left...~ Heedless of her eyes, he withdraws his hand, tugging on the glove... zipping the zipper along the side, he finishes with a studious wave, tucking his hand away. “It’s simple Gatomon.”

“Oh really.” Her purr was droll.

Nodding, he stretches his fingers, wincing at the pain. He was supposed to be stitched with leather... leather stretched. He was supposed to be laced with leather. Not string. String hurt... “It’s simple. My finger happened to come off in the Lord Myotismon’s presence...” He tensed his fingers, the glove creaking. “And he was so kind as to reattach it for me.”

Her voice was very low. “When did that happen, Wizardmon?”

He answered truthfully... “I don’t remember.”

~How many times had Lord Myotismon done that? It hadn’t happened the first time... the first time had been an experiment... idle curiosity. Myotismon had clipped every stitch, playing with them, feeling them move... and break. he had pulled off every one... one by one...although, admittedly, helpfully reattaching them when he had learned that reconnection was indeed possible...~ Wizardmon sighed, resolutely staring at his gloves... ~I should be thankful towards Myotismon. Thankful that he contents himself with the fingers, instead of turning to... other stitches.~ His gloves creaked. ~Not to say that he didn’t play with them... cutting, restitching... letting the blood flow. Always with the blood... always.~

“Wizardmon...” ~I should be thankful.~ “Wizardmon?” ~Usually those that serve... ‘under him’... perish. and quickly...~ “WIZARDMON!”

Storm slitted eyes suddenly snap open, bright and green. His bangs shake as he lifts his head.GatoGatomon?”

She stares at him, her mouth working for several long seconds... and fails. Shaking her head, she just slips forward, into his lap, letting her cheek rest against his chest... he can only sigh, his glove caressing her fur...

Pain.

Her ears twitch, head rising as he suddenly winces, his breath hissing from between his stitches as he presses his eyes closed. “Wizardmon? Are you okay?”

His breath was clipped, and strained... “Y-yeah. I’m fine-”

Pain.

He bites off the grunt, gritting his teeth... the stitches in his lips pull, painfully. He ignores it, shaking his head and flashing his small companion a weak, reassuring smile. “It is nothing, Gatomon. Nothing at all...”

The soft agony thuds and pulses, like the beating of a heart... he veils the wince. He can stand the pain... leaning against the wall, he pushes the pain from his mind, idly letting his hand play along his companion’s back, drinking in the small comfort. Maybe... maybe if he ignored it... Maybe it would stop. Maybe it would go away... He snorts, letting the stabbing agony pulse deep within him... ~just like his touch... how appropriate he would choose this as his summons...~

Almost as if sensing his defian. ~s. ~something I wouldn’t put past him... he can do so many other things... why not rip the very thoughts from my head?~ the pain began to grow. No longer coming in short, surging pulses, it evened out, the thudding running together into a thick, syrupy tide of agony, surging through his body... He was never so thankful his collar hid his face as he was now... ~No. I won’t come... I won’t come to his call like a dog...~

The pain suddenly slowed, slipping off into nothingness... He blinked, utterly surprised... ~Had I been right? Had it gone awa-~

Pain.

Pain Pain BURNING...

And the ring began to burn. That hateful, foreign ring Lord Myotismon had found so amus.. p.. piercing him low and intimately. It burned...

Gatomon leapt from his lap, her fur ruffled and her eyes concerned as the baggy clothed sorcerer suddenly doubled over, his hands closing over his lower waist as he huddled into a heap, his breath a half gasping sob in his throat... The fire dimmed...

“Wizardmon! Wizardmon are you okay?”

“Y-yes, Yes I’m-”

BURNING...

She ducked back at his hoarse scream. She shook him, watching in shock as he wobbled like a fresh kill, his hands wrapped around his waist and his eyes open and dilated. “Wizardmon! Wizardmon is there anything I can do??”

“I need to go.” Shaking hands pushed him up, his rise hampered by another surge of folding, another harsh, gritted scream...

“Wait! Wizardmon??”

“I’ll be back-” ~I’m sorry my dear Gatomon. I cannot explain... I have to go. I have to-~

The door slammed behind him, the empty hallway echoing thickly as, alone and shameless, he wraps his hands around the softness beneath the baggy cloth of his jumpsuit, to the foreign ring that had been forced through the sensitive, tender head of his stitched gray flesh...

Hands wrapped around the fiery agony pulsing at the end of his penis, Wizardmon let himself fall to his knees, hated tears leaking down his face as he let out a half strangled sob, hands between his leg and sobbing like a baby Digimon ...

~I-I need to... I need to go... need to go to him... I need to... g-get up...~ He trio lio lift his head at the sound of far away footsteps... he recognized the thick, decisive stride... He fell under the newest surge of fire, pulsing between his legs... letting off a half strangled howl, he shifted, writhing on the stones... and felt his face brush the smooth, immaculate leather of a very big boot...

~Oh no...~

“You... made me come to you. As I am sure you have already guessed, I am not pleased...”

He tried to muster an apology, tried to plead, beg shamelessly for forgiveness... the only thing that came out of his mouth was a soft sob...

Myotismon watched, amused for a few moments as the lowly Champion gasped and twitched at his feet, in the thrall of his displeasure. Bending, he reached down, scooping up the small, shaking bundle of baggy cloth and stringy, spilling gold locks...

Wizardmon sobbed helplessly, the pain still stabbing at him, tearing him deep inside... He lay, helpless in the Ultimate’s grip, in a hand easily larger than his head... He felt himself lifted, shifted... and flung across the soft rede ate at Lord Myotismon’s shoulder like a sack of grain, his arms limp and hanging...

“While you are fun to play with, my pathetic little fool, I am hungry...” Soft, full violet lips curled in a fanged smile, the vampiric Digimon hefted Wizardmon’s unresisting body, glancing down the corridor with an amused, musing look in his clear, blue eyes... He casts a glance over his shoulder, his voice amused as he drawls out “You are very lucky I am in a... playful mood.” Raising one large, gloved hand, he idly tugged at one of the zippers across Wizardmon’s legs, gently undoing the red rimmed length... and moved off, his footsteps sure and long, one hand clamped to the hanging, thin gray leg in his grip...

Three steps from the end of the corridor, Myotismon pauses, turning slightly... letting his startling blue eyes drift over the corridor behind him, he blinks...

The cre creaks a little, almost closed... almost. It moved... just a little; as if the one holding it open had relinquished their hold...

Purple lips pulling into a smile, he turns, flashing a glance to the now unconscious Wizardmon in his grip... long, gold bangs caressed his face as he shook his head, trying to keep in the derisive snigger that threatened to slip free...

-

His head met the cold stone floor with a harsh clunk, his body falling in a boneless sprawl of limbs and baggy cloth, hair spilling like a liquid gold halo around his hat...

Dipping his graceful bulk, Myotismon slipped downwards, one knee gently settling to the floor...a finger almost the size of his head dipping under his chin, he lifted Wizardmon’s face... and tsk’ed sadly, idly fingering one of the tight blue stitches that had snapped on impact with the ground. Wizardmon gaped helplessly, the blood running down his chin. He coughed, eyes closed-

“...Ahem.”

Trembling, Wizardmon opened one bleary, emerald eye... and stared.

Myotismon didn’t look at all happy, one eyebrow arched above his mask as the faint drops of blood ran down his boot, marring the perfect surface...

Gestures jerky and uncoordinated, Wizardmon raised a hand, wiping at his master’s boot with shaking fingers. His voice was thick. “S’sry Lord Myot’smon...” Blood dripping from his chin, Wizardmon shook weakly, cleaning the last of the thin trickles of blood from the shining silver bat insignia stamped into the gleaming black leather of the boot. His eyes were ashamed, the brilliant green dull as he let the rim of his hat descend over his eyes... He began to shake as he felt the dark gloved finger trail under the rim of his collar, brushing across the thin stitches in his lips...

“Well, now that you’re awake...” Wizardmon rose unsteadily, staring at the floor as he straightened himself, his gloves creaking tightly as he clenched his hands, his tongue cautiously playing over the bleeding hole in his lip. The flesh wasn’t broken, the scar ringed pit still intact... His eyes shone darkly; a deep, gleaming green...

Myotismon smirked, letting his long, muscular tongue run over one sharp fang... Not speaking. His ragdoll knew what to do. It was up to him to do it...

Letting out a long, trembling sigh, Wizardmon raised a hand to his throat, his fingers gently wrapping around the gleaming metal skull pin, and tugged it free with an obstinate snap of his wrist.

Myotismon smirked, waiting.

Wizardmon’s face burned with shame as he pulled the dark cloth of his collar free, his eyes fixed firmly on the floor. He didn’t pull away as he felt the finger trail over his face. So many scars... at least they were fading now. Balling up his cloak, he bent, tucking the dark, rune marked cloth under the ornate, wide bed dominating the center of the room.

Straightening, he tossed his head defiantly, tugging the large, wide brimmed hat from his head, his fingers brushing against the large silver skull insignia clamped to the decorative band around the base. His eyes snapped with hatred as he whipped his hand to the side, letting the hat fly to the side of the room, his gloves creaking as he tightened his fists, Unzipping the side, he tugged the gloves free, sending them on their way after his hat.

One pale blond eyebrow arched above the dark, shiny redness of his mask.

Breath seething between clenched teeth, Wizardmon slapped his ponytail aside, his eyes narrowed to slits as he leaned back against the oversized bed, his weak arms shaking as he hefted himself back and up. Seated on the edge of the bed, he glared at the smirking Ultimate before him. He didn’t move.

“I’m waiting, Wizardmon. Or don’t you remember the next step?” Myotismon’s smirk was so much more intimidating close up, his breath heady and thick with the scent of old blood. “After all... we’ve done this so many times...”

“I... have not forgotten, my Lord Myotismon...” His face tight and strained, Wizardmon leaned back, more to pull away from the pale blue presence than to comply to the unspoken command... Letting his fingers relax, hips ips back, onto the bed... and lays down, on his back, baring his neck and closing his eyes.

The looming Ultimate before him merely smiles. Shaking his head, he gently brushes back one of the long, thin gold bangs at his temple, slipping onto the bed beside the much smaller Champion at his side. Wizardmon waited, his eyes tightly closed and his stitches stretched into a dreading grimace.

“Oh Wizardmon. So stoic, so resolute... such a victim and you don’t even know it...”

Wizardmon’s eyes cracked open, thick with remembered pain and half dreading anger as he tilts his head, glancing up at the larger form of his master and captor. “What are you talking abo-”

Myotismon made no sound as he leaned over, gently capturing one of Wizardmon’s tiny, stitched hands in his own and slips across the small body, crushing Wizon ion into the bed with his chest. He smirking softly as the small sorcerer, barely the size of even the smallest of the accursed destiestined children thrashed and growled, a miniature version of ferociousness, lip stitches pulling at their scarred moorings as Wizardmon opened his mouth in protest-

Fangs brushing the straining stitches, Myotismon leans into the smaller, struggling form, his lips firm and passionate as he captures the shock stilled lips in a kiss. Gently trapping the stitch lined lower lip between tooth and fang, his nibbles playfully, not even drawing blood...

Wizardmon pants into his mouth, fear surging at the feel of the brush of fangs... please... not there. Startling green eyes in a fear ashen face begged silently, wide and scared, the lips moving against the fangs in breathless supplication. The deep blue eyes that met his own brooked no argument, and he offered none.

Letting his eyes slide closed, Wizardmon stilled under the bigger mon, his hands dropping away from the luxurious red fabric of his cape... silent, he let his lips part slightly, slipping open...

Myotismon wasted no time, not even waiting until the gray, stitched lips were all the way open- Tugging his gloves free in a swift, practiced movement, he laces long, clawed fingers into the flowing gold hair, ripping the leather tie free as he clamps his hands to Wizardmon’s head. Wrenching his head back to an agonizing angle, he forced the smaller mon’s lips apart, delving between the stitches and into the warmth of the open mouth, tongue hot and hungry.

Wimon mon writhed, hands moving involuntarily to try to force the larger, far stronger Digimon off of him. Cringing from the hot, muscular warmth of Myotismon’s plunging, intimate kiss, from the sour taste of blood filling his mouth... blood coming from his own mauled stitches... Wizardmon fought the hands, fighting to pull away. A reedy, helpless whimper rose in his throat, slipping between their interlocked lips...

Wizardmon relaxed against his master, letting the tension along his arms, legs, back fade... letting himself calm beneath his master, his expression surly and morose, lips going slack...

Lips locked against the unresponsive mouth, Myotismon pauses slightly, his eyes cool and musing as he pulls away, idly running his tongue over one long, needlelike fang. A thin, pink tainted line of saliva glistens slightly in the soft lighonneonnecting deep violet to stitched gray, the mon beneath him twisting away slightly, avoiding his gaze...

One long, taloned finger slipped forward, brushing aside a strand of flaxen hair... and gently ran under the dull, unseeing eye, tracing the faint dampness on the slate gray skin... “Not so unreachable as you would wish are you, my little Wizardmon...” Raising the tear stained fingertip, he locked eyes with the smaller sorcerer beneath him and sucked deliberately on his fingertip, never looking away from the damp, angry eyes glaring up at him.

Laughing derisively through his fangs, Myotismon slipped a hand downwards, fixing his fingers around Wizardmon’s chin, holding the head painfully, vibrant blue eyes boring into the damp green, angry gaze below him, thumb playing against his lips. “Not interested in a kiss? Normally I’d be hurt... but I think if I give it a bit of thought, I might be able to put these repulsive, sewn up lips of yours to good use...”

Those startling green eyes of his widened with each word... He knew what the Ultimate meant. Voice tense and hoarse, Wizardmon whispered against the caressing thumb “L-Lord Myotismon... my jaw will-”

Leaning in close, he gently placed a kiss between the startling green eyes, whispering against the skin. “Oh, I’m sure we can find a position where there’s no danger of your jaw falling off... can’t we, my dear ragdoll? After all... we’re not removing all your stitches...” Moving downwards, he gently placed another soothing kiss upon the taut lips, letting the tip of a fang play impishly under the edge of one raw stitch. “...just a few along here... and here...”

Wizardmon pulled back, trying to move away, fighting the hands that laced in his long, flowing hair. Teeth bared, Wizardmon wiggled, trying to scoot across the bed and away, useless and pathetic in the grip of the Ultimate above him. Myotismon merely moved a little to follow him, laughing softly against his lips, holding the Champion still and slipping his teeth just-so across a stitch, the fang slipping beneath and pressing the thin strand of blue against the cusp of one of his forefront molars...

Wizardmon moaned quietly, feeling the string give way. Going limp in his master’s grip, he let his eyes slide closed as he felt the full, purple lips slip a bit, fang teasing another strained stitch... and snapping it with a quick gnash of the fanged jaws. Softly shaking his head, Wizardmon began to cry, thin tears leaking down his ears as he felt his jaw go slack, the faint ache already beginning as he felt his mouth fall open dumbly... four stitches... five... six- Pulling back, Myotismon paused for a second, one hand trailing across the baggy cloth beneath the bright red vest, taking in his handiwork with a self satisfied glimmer deep within the vibrant, sky blue eyes.

Wizardmon whimpered, the sound odd with his mouth half open as he slowly worked his jaw, thin runnels of blood leaking into his mouth as hsps sps weakly. He could still move his mouth, but he was weak, weak... “N-no... more stitches... please...”

A finger brushed across the small, scar ringed holes, stilling him. “No, no... shhh... no more stitches. I promise...” Smiling almost gently, Myotismon bent, slipping his hands under the limp shoulders and lifted Wizardmon, slipping him to the edge of the bed. Wizardmon moaned helplessly, Myotismon’s gangly form bent, crouching as his nimble fingers readjusted the smaller Digimon into position...

Wizardmon’s hair hung down, flowing in a perfect wave of flaxen gold down the edge of the bed, his head hanging over the edge, on his back, upside down. He kept his eyes closed, his lips quirked in misery.

He heard the belts fall, the cloth shift and billow under those long, deft fingers... a hand caressed his face. “Come on now Wizardmon... you know I don’t like you limp unless I’ve drained you...”

Emerald eyes opened, soft and sullen, staring up at the upside down panorama of Myotismon’s majestic body, the cloth hanging loosely over his hips, draping the barely concealed spire between his legs... he grinned down, fangs bared as he kicked off the last boot, freeing his feet as he slipped out of the wrinkled ball of pants, kicking them aside with a careless snap of his leg. Gently lowering his hand to the golden hair of the one staring dully up at him, he worked his fingers deep, caressing the warm, blond locks...

Wizardmon’s face was deadpan, watching without seeing as the pale, blue skinned vampire gently lowehandhand to his crotch, brushing aside the last vestiges of restraint as his other hand tightened to the gray scalp, wrenching the Champion into an agonizing position as he pressed forward.

Wizardmon shrank back, fighting the hand in his hair as he felt the blunt, hot head smear wetly against his lips, spreading the thin pearl of liquid into the stitch holes in his face. He crushed his eyes closed, fighting the hand and the pressure at his lips.

“Wizardmon...” The voice came out a growl. “Be a good little boy and open your mouth...” The hand gently brushed through his hair, soft fingers... than claws. “-Now.”

Ever the obedient servant, Wizardmon relaxed as much as he could, opening his mouth with a miserable whimper... and choked as the thick, hot length of the Ultimate’s cock slid between his lips- he let his tongue slip across the hot surface, ducking his head back and trying desperately to retain a hold on his relaxed composure as he felt the short, soft hair brush his face, warm and smelling of Myotismon’s heady musk. He let his eyes close as he relaxed, holding his breath, fighting the rising spots and sparkles that flashed behind his lids as he felt Myotismon’s hips meet his face, pushing him into the soft gold fuzz as the full, veiny length of the impossibly thick shaft slid into his throat, stretching his aching jaws wide- blood dripped softly from the stitches ringing his mouth, the thin, sharp strings biting into the flesh...

Myotismon purred softly, slowly pulling himself out of the extreme depths of the smaller Digimon ’s throat, his face a bit flushed and his words playful. “You know, for all the surly words that pour from it, you have the sweetest mouth...” Kittenishly running his long, musing fingers through the blonde locks, he cooed softly, enjoying the warm, heaving breath blowing over his shaft. “Mmm...”

He whimpered softly as he felt the fingers fix in his hair- and the hot bluntnesssh tsh the back of his throat once again. But it didn’t drive full depth into his throat, just brushing the tender esoph bef before sliding back into position once again. Letting his tongue stroke and caress the hot, sliding flesh, his hands wound in the comforter below him, knuckles white around the stitches as he wrapped his lips around the oversized penis with a fervor that would have been enthusiastic were it not for the half choked mewling in the back of the smaller Digimon ’s throat. He lashed his tongue, laving it over the hot surface, gagging with the depth of every thrust... and pauses, his lips lax and his tongue limp in his mouth as Myotismon pulled almost all the way out, his voice a hoarse and impassioned growl “Get ready for it boy.”

Wizardmon let out a moan, opening his mouth as he felt the hands fix to his ears, holding his head in place. The vampire hissed, baring his teeth as he threw his head back, gold hair rising around him. His eyes closes as he gasps, voice oddly beautiful... and suddenly thrusts, driving himself into the warm depths of the throat...

Wizardmon stilled as the warm, salty tang filled his mouth, the thick liquid coating his tongue, tasting blood and bitterness as he slowly gulped down the hot, slimy semen filling his mouth. Coughing weakly, he groaned as Myotismon pulled himself free, slipping between the lax lips and smiling softly as he ruffled the ragged blond bangs. He stared into the bleary green gaze staring unresponsively up at him. “Get up.”

Arms shaking, Wizardmon slipped to the side, curling into a little ball as he pushed himself up, drawing his knees up and leaning back weakly, eyes dull as he slowly swallowing the last of the tangy bitterness in his mouth. Myotismon watched, running his own tongue over the sharp white fang as he watched the hesitant pink tongue slide between the gray lips, licking at a creamy drop on his upper lip as he sat, breath quivering in his throat...

“Did you like that my little Wizardmon?” Breath blowing softly, Myotismon tossed his head, clearing the bangs from his face.

The voice was listless. “Yes my Lord.”

He smirked. “You’re not even listening, are you?”

Cough. “No my Lord.”

Shaking his head, Myotismon moved out onto the bed, his hands sliding across the cloth to gently grope at the other Digimon ’s pant leg. Wizardmon stared, his eyes empty as the large, bare fingers began to play softly with the zippers at his calves- and the sudden warmth of breath beside his ear. “You’re slipping into shock, my little Digimon . ... can’t let that happen, can we? We have so much planned for that delicate, tailored little body of yours...” He nudged the body back, nudging the unresponsive Digimon onto the bed. Wizardmon fell, his eyes closing as he lay limply beside his master, barely half his size, unmoving and unresponsive. “Still out cold?” The other Digimon didn’t respond.

Myotismon shrugged once, somber, gently nuzzling the head to the side as he let his tongue lave once, hot, over the thudding bloodline beneath the skin-

Wizardmon squealed, bucking and thrashing against the body above him as he felt the needle sharp fangs tear into his neck, body flaring with an unnatural warmth. He howled helplessly as he tried to tear his head away from the searing pain, pinned beneath the bigger Digimon . Breath heaving in little gasps of agony, he whimpered as he felt Myotismon’s big, bare hands pin his own to the bed, holding him down. Helpless and wild, he writhed against the half naked body above him, holding him down as he felt the full lips suckle gently at the flowing wound, the sick feeling of Myotismon’s throat surging as he swallowed, nursing almost erotically at the twin, bleeding wounds in the ashen gray neck...

Shivering at the sudden chill, Wizardmon threw his head back, whimpering miserably as he blinked through the sudden flashing lights clouding his vision. A horrible aching thud begins to beat in his head, the cool flesh of the vampire above him start to flare with heat as he felt himself fading... dry lips cracked open in a soft supplication for mercy, falling upon deaf ears.

He howled weakly as he felt the fang tips withdraw- the wound surged just once, pouring wetly onto the bed before the hot touch of the Digimon ’s tongue laved across the wound, sealing it with a flare of heat... the vampiric Digimon smiled softly, blood running down his chin to drip onto the upturned face. Wizardmon shook as a few sparse drops fell into his open mouth... ashen faced, he began to cough, bawling softly in shock and pain.

“Oh yes, that’s the face I love...” Thin crimson runnels leaking down his throat, the vampire tossed his head, smiling through bloody teeth as he kneeled before the limp body. Wizardmon lay, inert, limbs splayed and head back, hair haloing the gray, ashy flesh... Myotismon arched proudly, one hand dipping between the perfect blue legs, idly fondling himself as he stared musingly at the motionless body below him, watching the ashen faced Champion begin to twitch, twisting onto his side as he curled around himself, breath sobbing in his throat...

Wizardmon whined, mewling pitifully as he felt Myotismon’s touch, hands rising to the fingers groping at the bright, cheery red of his vest, playing against the zipper’s crescent shaped catch, fingering the cool silver... Wizardmon shook as he felt the big, hot body press to his back, molding against him... the hot flash of blunt pressure sliding between his legs from behind, brushing at the crotch of his jumpsuit. One long, powerful leg slid between his, parting his knees...

He shook helplessly as the zipper at his throat parted, slipping open as the large, pale hand descended. Knuckles brushed along the tight, wiry chest, caressing the ribs and sliding seductively over the stomach, teasing the zipper wider...

Myotismon peeled the smaller Digimon from the inhibiting red cloth of his vest, tossing the offending red material as far from him as he could. He murmur comfortingly, nuzzling at the shock chilled flesh of the quaking Champion below him as he began to unpeel his arms and torso from the cheery custard yellow of the jumpsuit...

His fingers brushed across the subtle ridge of stitches along one of Wizardmon’s shoulders, his eyes misting at the breathy moan that slipped between the pale, abused lips... “Oh yes, I had forgotten... you love the feel of your stitches being rubbed, caressed... it turns you on, doesn’t it my sutured little slut?” Running a fondling finger over the tight strings, he dipped it deep into the warm gray armpit, playing against the edge of his chest... Wizardmon twisted slightly, his eyes bluand and his mouth open as he moaned, arching... “Of course it does... you love being the whore for your master, don’t you my little ragdoll? Don’t you, Wizardmon?”

Wizardmon pulled away, his lips going tight... “Oh, defiant is it? Poor little boy... will you never learn?” He withdrew his fingers, fully noticing the small wince of bitterness at the removal of the erogenous caress.

“Oh, okay... I won’t tease you anymore...” Brushing his lush, purple lips against the back of his neck, he nibbles gently, eliciting a very small, involuntary moan as his lips caressed the ridge of stitches, placing a quick flurry of soft, hot kisses along the tender seam. The stitches were still leather, his throat and neck being one place the vampiric Digimon did not indulge in playing with. Wizardmon made a very strange hissing sound, his body buckling down as he gritted his teeth. Half naked, he clutched the half unzipped jumpsuit to his waist, his eyes half lidded and weak from loss of blood...

Big hands clamped over his, casting them aside and moving once more to the zipper. The large hands gripped the little half moon of silver and moved swiftly downwards, dipping between Wizardmon’s legs as the Ultimate rumbled softly in the long, flicking ear, hands moving to his waist and slowly pushing downwards...

Wizardmon shook helplessly as his clothes slipped over his knees, his boyish, sutured body shivering as he wrapped his arms around himself. He yipped as the hands clapped over his knees, pushing his legs away and hugging the small, dusky body to his own. Untangling himself for a moment, Myotismon began to strip, swiftly discarding the rest of his own clothing. Tearing the collar and cape off with a quick, distracted gesture, he let the bat lapel pin clatter to the ground, stripping off the midnight blue bodysuit with a much practiced peeling shrug.

The flushed blue flesh of the naked Ultimate suddenly pressed against him, long arms holding him far too close. Breath brushed his shoulders, bathing his face in the scent of his own spilled blood and he nearly gagged, trying to drag his suddenly heavy head away. The voice is smooth and thick with carnal lust, hissing into his ear. “Are you ready for it, my little ragdoll?” Holding the shaken mon to him, he gently nibbled at the long, tapering ear.

Trying to move away, Wizardmon whimpered miserably, his lips tight and wretched. “M-Myotismon, please... please... no...”

Holding the gray face close to his, he gently places his fangs against the sorcerer’s cheek, dragging his fangs down the tear damp flesh; a warning. “What did you call me ragdoll?”

Choking, he whines pitifully “F-forgive me, Lord Myotismon...” His words choked off, eyes closed and mouth open as he felt a warm bluntness suddenly slip between his legs, brushing between his buttocks and against his soft shaft. Stitches loose in the shrunken flesh, he twitched slightly, trying to draw away as the hot, hard bluish head catches briefly against the foreign gold ring driven through the head of his penis. He moans, feeling the metal shift in the barely healed wound, courtesy of the Lord Myotismon’s more sordid searches for amusement...

Pale blue fingers slipping down his stomach, Wizardmon bit back a whine as the ring between his legs suddenly shifted, brushed by curious fingers. Wizardmon’s half lidded, shock dulled eyes suddenly go very wide as he felt the hand close over his soft, vulnerable shaft, gently squeezing...

Myotismon purrs softly, welcoming the tense and writhing Champion deeper into his embrace as the shaking Wizardmon suddenly arched against him... “Ahh. You like that, don’t you...”

“N-no, please...” Choking, he arched helplessly against the hand’s uninvited ministrations, his breath catching in his throat... The warmth behind him welcomed him as he tried to escape the intimate caress; his hips met the tight, bony waist behind him, caging him between hips and the slow, sensual movemenf thf the vampire’s hand. Weak from blood loss already, he moaned helplessly, unable to push away the hand fondling his hardening cock. His face flamed, pink staining the slate gray as his head went back, forehead butting against Myotismon’s tight blue chest as a moan slid from his throat...

“Wizardmon...” Breathing coyly into the shivering gray ear, Myotismon stroked harder, enjoying the fluttering breath of the writhing Champion in his arms. “You can’t fight it luv, you know the procedure.... I may be a Virus, but I never leave a good blow job unrewarded... so stop resisting... enjoy yourself... most mon would appreciate this honor immensely...” A moan choked no was his only answer. Mouth caught in a quirky line, Myotismon merely shrugged, laying into the now stiff shaft in his palm with knowledgeable, well practiced movements.

The pitiable moans escalated, sliding helplessly from the shuddering throat as the small gray hips archpwarpwards, the hot length nudging into the warmth of his caressing palm. He couldn’t help smile, fangs shining faintly as he redoubled his efforts, thrusting his own hard shaft between the tightly clamped legs. He loved the feeling of the vibrant, unwilling bodies in his arms, the feeling of the prey, feeling them fight... and fail, just beginning to lose control...

“I h-hate you... I hate... youhh...” Panting the words like a mantra, Wizardmon gaped, heaving helplessly tgh dgh dry, hot lips. ~I f-feel like I’m drowning...~ Knuckles white, stitches tight and biting at the fingers clamped to Myotismon’s rhythmic wrist, he gritted his teeth, fighting the traitorous, euphoric urge building in his loins. ~Drowning...~ “I h-hate you...” Tears sliding down his face, Wizardmon gaped mindlessly, writhing in the strong, blue grip, hips bucking helplessly. Shaking his head in desperate, useless denial, his breath came as soft, terrified hiccups as he felt the sweet agony begin to break over him...

~Drowning.~ Face hot and flushed, he sobbed helplessly as he felt the pale, hot blue fingers close over his ring pierced head, catching the spilling seed as he came in his master’s waiting, welcoming hand...

Myotismon cooed faintly as he clutched the sobbing Digimon to his chest, his semen smeared hand rising to his lips... tasting the bitter defeat in the creamy liquid, he smirked to himself, tilting the head up to share the taste of the small, sobbing Wizardmon’s failure, salting the open wound with a tender, probing kiss. Wizardmon didn’t resist the brush of lips or the hot invasion of the muscular tongue, leaning dully into it as he twitched, his hair half fallen over one half closed, misery clouded eye

“I knew you enjoyed it-”

“...no...” ~I... I did. I didn’t want to... but I did... oh gods...~

“I knew you wanted it...”

“N-no...” ~I didn’t want to... I didn’t want...... but I couldn’t fight it! Oh gods I couldn’t stop myself...~

Myotismon laughed softly in his ear. Wizardmon tried to draw away as the hand came up, pinning his face in one long, semen smeared palm... “It’s okay little one, I’m just teasing you.... I know you too well...”

“You d-don’t know me...”

Ahh, typical teenage angst filled response. “Don’t I?” Teasing back a brush of that luxurious gold hair, he smirks down on the sullen, miserable face, gently teasing at the taut gray lips with a talon tipped finger. “You’d be surprised, my reluctant little ragdoll sorcerer. I know... for one thing, that you are a heavily closeted homosexual, among other things...”

“WHAT?? I-”

“Oh come now, you’re not still vehemently denying that, are you?” Gently running his tongue over the taut cheek, he laughs softly, bathing the flesh with the scent of blood and fear laced cum. “I’ve seen the way you stare at Gotsumon and Pumpkinmon... that resentful light in your eyes...” Smirking, he nibbled a little at a stitch, pulling a wince from the tumultuous Champion in his arms. “Just because you don’t enjoy being stuffed every night by me means that you don’t fantasize about taking it up the ass from some other Digimon out there, mm? What is it, what do you fantasize about, my little Wizardmon? What Digimon gets you hot and rigid?” Idly playing with the soft gold locks, Myotismon gently lays a kiss along the upturned cheek, his blue eyes sultry.. “Who is it that catches your fancy? Dream of burying your face in thrm, rm, silky fur of a Leomon? Arching under the wings of an Angemon? Perhaps a dangerous fling with a passing WereGarurumon? Or mayhaps the unlikely occurrence of finding another of your elusive species to snuggle with under a sultry summer moon? ...don’t tell me you have a crush on Puppetmon or something creepy like that...”

“NO! No...” Turning his face away, Wizardmon presses his face, still streaked along one side with his unwilling sperm, and bites his lip. Stoically refusing to even think about it, he tries to block out the words... maybe if he could resist the words, he wouldn’t be able to consider the unthinkable...

~How many dreams have I awoken from, my clothing soiled with my own essence and my face tumultuous with shame? How many dreams... dreams of blood and long, touching fingers.... of... of... -NO! No! I can’t dream of him! I can’t! He rapes me! He breaks me he hurts me... I can’t... can’t... can’t want... -It can’t be. It c.~
.~

Myotismon blinked softly as the Wizardmon in his arms began to sob like a child, face strained and miserable...Cooing, he gathered the little body to him, holding the other Digimon close as the shaking Wizardmon bawled helplessly, bangs clinging to his tears... “I h-hate you... I hate you... I HATE YOU!” Myotismon blinked, feeling the weak fist pound at his side as Wizardmon swung behind him, blinded by tears. Smirking at the tiny pain, the Ultimate gently lowered his face to the messy gold hair, breathing in the scent of fear sweat in the luxurious, damp locks.

“Why do you cry, my sad little Wizardmon? What drives the tears to your eyes and the wails from your throat? I haven’t even penetrated you yet...” Cuddling the sutured, sobbing little body to him, tilted his head, confused. The sobbing assertion of the Champion’s hatred was the only answer he received.

“Whatever could I haved thd that would pull such heart rending sobs from you, my little ragdoll? Who could you possibly-” Startling blue eyes, still surrounded by the vibrant red mask, suddenly wideas aas a new possibility suddenly came to light.... He stared at the weeping Wizardmon, the only conclusion coming to light in his disbelieving mind. “By Piedmon’s passion... could it be?” Barking out a sharp laugh, he twists the gray, sutured neck, staring at the face now clouded with pain at the near breaking twist to his throat... and bursts out laughing. “Great digital gods! Of all the possibilities... You turn out to be one of the digital world’s only true masochists...” Locking him in a kiss that nearly breaks the Champion’s neck, he turns him around once again, back to taut, pale blue stomach, and whispers into the flat, strained ear. “I must admit... I’m flattered...”

Wizardmon’s voice is thick, and strained... “I’ll n-never give in to you.... n-never... I h-hate you...” Wailing the last part, the tears begin again, the small gray sorcerer shaking in his arms... Myotismon’s breath bathing the back of the shaken Wizardmon’s neck, he clamped firm fingers to the quaking gray shoulder, pushing him chest first to the bed. Pulling one leg back with a businesslike tug, he pushed the stitch sutured knee to the other Digimon ’s chest... Straddling the extended leg, Myotismon gazes down, smiling as Wizardmon suddenly realizes what’s going on- “Lord Myotismon- p-please please don’t...”

Smirking, Myotismon places a hand on Wizardmon’s face, pressing his head into the mattress as reaches to the head of the bed, fishing under one of the satiny cushions for the small bottle of slippery, scented lubricant. “I don’t know why you seek to whimper like a bitch... it only makes me ride you all the harder...” Glancing at the still crying Wizardmon, he smiles. “Unless you really are a masochist and enjoy being split and mauled in bed...”

Wizardmon’s denial came as a fluttering wail. Laughing to himself, Myotismon nodded, smearing the cold, slimy lubricant across his hard, stiff spire. Coated with the excess, his hand glistened as he lowered it between Wizardmon’s legs, slipping up between the dusky cheeks-

Wizardmon bit down on the comforter, his eyes going wide as he felt the finger slowly slip between the clenched muscles of his opening, fingernail trailing across his sensitive inner flesh, probing deep inside... he crushed his eyes closed as the finger withdrew, being joined by a second... the full feeling, the sensation of being penetrated, filled, invaded nearly making him wretch.

He tried not to panic as he felt Myotismon bend over him, feeling the hard head nudge between his buttocks. He closed his eyes, trying to still his breathing as the larger Ultimate balanced, positioning himself...“You know why I always choose you?” The words come out a dusky moan.

“...n-no-”

auseause you don’t want it.” His head falling forward, Myotismon let out a seething sigh as his hips hunched forward, driving the full, dripping length of his rigid blue dick into the suddenly screaming Champion below him, his eyes closing in bliss...

Wizardmon didn’t care that he was screaming like a frightened Palomon, he didn’t care about the tears or the fact that he could feel upleuple of sharp blue stitches snap on his right third finger from gripping the bed so hard. He didn’t care about anything but the stabbing sensation of Lord Myotismon within him, the eleven inches of thick blue flesh buried in his straining opening. Barely the size of a human child himself, he writhed, howling in agony and terror as he felt the tense blue hips start to rock, driving the burning shaft deeper into his flushed and aching body.

Myotismon growls, wrapping one hand in the loose and disheveled hair, hauling the head back as he gazes down upon the agony wracked visage with feverish eyes, his glowing blue gaze intent and livid. He smiled slightly, feeling the silky warmth enveloping his hard, straining dick suddenly bear down as the sorcerer beneath him choked off a half strangled howl, eyes pressed closed as he called out in fear and pain...

Riding the smaller Digimon relentlessly, he smiled, his face merciless as he began to push... not stopping until the soft, blond hair between his legs met Wizardmon’s rump, burying himself fully within the smaller Digimon below him as he leaned back, listening idly to the calls of pain...

Voice musing as he rocked his hips, Mymon mon tilted his head to the side, idly contemplating aloud above the crying Champion... “Even as well hung- for a Wizardmon anyway- that you are... I’m sure you never imagined something over half the size and thickness of your lower arm being shoved up your ass, did you? Mayhaps you’d better keep your fantasies to those of your evolution level...” He laughs softly... “After all... permanent damage is almost inevitable when one is taken forcefully by one’s... elders...” Abruptly, the rocking hips still, the cold blue eyes going soft for a moment... before the bangs shake once, angrily as he snaps his head to the side with a growl. “stupid...”

Pulling himself from his reverie, Myotismon glances down at the shaken, suddenly silent Wizardmon. His voice is uncharacteristically soft. “Don’t bite your lip fool, you’ll hurt yourself...” Pulling his hand from the golden strands of hair, Myotismon gently slipped a finger into Wizardmon’s mouth, pulling his lower lip free... Thrusts gentler now, Myotismon leans low over the straining form below him, his lips gentle on the back of Wizardmon’s neck as he slowly buries himself in the warm, straining hole once more, murring deeply in his throat as he gently kissed him. Listening to the soft crying for a moment, he gently lowered himself on top of Wizardmon, crushing the gray body to the bed as he slid the legs apart, forcing him fully onto his stomach. Wizardmon squalled, muffled beneath him as he slid a hand along the tight gray hips, raising the legs into a half kneeling position and held him there...

He knew he was going too deep, knew from the tone of panic in the voice, the whooping cries, inelegant and afraid... he knew he was hurting the younger, smaller Digimon . He knew he was tearing him, feeling the warm, seeping blood running down his leg. He knew he was hurting the fragile, vulnerable sorcerer, tearing him, scarring him... but he didn’t stop... he couldn’t... and he didn’t want to. Gritting his teeth, Myotismon pushed harder, growling like an animal as he felt the tight, slick warmth tighten over him once again, his hips rocking, movements harsh and mechanical... Wizardmon had gone silent, moving with each grinding thrust with the limp rocking of the onset of shock as Myotismon pounded him into the bed, holding his rump in the air as he plundered the broken Champion, growl rising to a roar with every thrust...

Wizardmon made a soft, strange little murring sound as he felt the Ultimate above him climax, the subtle warmth blossoming within him as he felt the cock stabbing into him twitch, emptying it’s hot, sliding contents into his aching, ravaged anus. ~It’s strange.... at the end, after he’s torn me and pounded me and hurt me so bad... I-I can’t even seem to feel it. I know I’m torn, I know I‘m bleeding... but I can’t really feel it. I can’t feel... anything... it’s like my flesh is dead beneath him, cold as ice.~ Turning, he glances behind him. Myotismon’s eyes are closed, hice mce musing and drawn, his half softened member still buried within Wizardmon’s body. ~It’s so strange... he seems to relish all the games; the touching, the fucking, the tearing... but at the end...I wonder if Myotismon even enjoys it? When all is said and done, he almost seems sad...~

Wizardmon whimpered when he felt Myotismon pulled himself free, drizzling blood and fluids across the gray, strained legs as Wizardmon slid down, letting his aching hips come to rest as he slid onto his side with a painful whimper... Blood slowly pooled below him, draining from his ravaged anus as he lay still, green eyes glazed...

Myotismon sat back, slowly pulling on one of the legs of his midnight blue suit, slipping on the soft fabric... and raises his head. “...Do you hear that?”

“Hear what...” Wizardmon’s voice was dull.

Waving him away with a growl, Myotismon gently brushes back a strand of golden hair... and freezes at the gentle rapping sound at the door. Wizardmon raises his head, blinking softly at the sound of the cool, musing voice issuing from the other side of the door...

“Oooh Mytooootismooon.... Are you in here? I’ve been looking everywhere for you....”

Myotismon, the great, powerful Ultimate sat, silent, at the edge of the bed, his naked, bluish flesh ashen. His whisper was almost too low to hear. “...Piedmon...”

The knock came again, a little more insistent. “Well? Are you in here or not, my amusing little vampire? Heloooo...”

Myotismon cleared his throat nervously, clutching the dark blue cloth to his crotch, idly drawing the comforters a little over Wizardmon. “I... am here, my Lord Piedmon...”

The voice, amused, slid forth in unmistakable authority. “Open the door Myotismon.”

Shuffling the cloth, Myotismon sweated slightly, blinking through his mask. “Could you give me a moment, my Lord?” He resumed pulling up his clothing- but paused, raising his head as he heard the locked door rattle once, the unseen, pale hand at the other side testing the handle...

“My Lord I-”

“...” Silence followed his words. Wizardmon shook, gently laying his head to the side and closing his eyes...

Myotismon raised his head, confused at the ringing sound of metal... being... drawn- oh no... “...Trump Sword!”

“OH SH-” Flinging himself down and to the side, Myotismon cringes, throwing his hands up as the heavy oak door explodes in a shower of hot splinters, cascading over the bed, into his hair and across the half covered, shivering Wizardmon huddled in the bed.... He did not raise his blue eyes, silently staring at the bed beside him as he heard the soft shuffle of footsteps kicking their way though the mangled remains of the door... Shaken, Myotismon turned slowly, mechanically, glancing at the back of the bed and the rather large, dramatic looking sword quivering in the wall...

Piedmon smirked, his eyes cold as he withdrew the sword with a tug, returning it to its sheathe and pausing a moment. Standing beside the shaken Ultimate, his voice slides out a purr. “I believe I told you to open the door, didn’t I?”

“Y-yes, my Lord...” The voice was meek.

“And you didn’t, did you, my soft little vampire... I am disappointed in you...”

“...F-forgive me, my Lord...”

Idly running white, delicate fingers down the naked blue back, Piedmon leans in close, his expression playful and his hair down, a billowing halo of orange tipped gold around his pale, perfect face. “Myotismon? There is one little detail I have seemed to have overlooked... Why, pray do tell, are you sitting in your room, utterly naked?”

Myotismon didn’t bother to hide thekingking little body in the bed beside him, his words truthful and derisive. “An elaborate form of masturbation, nothing more my Lord...”

Sharp, dark eyes followed the path already set by the shining, sullen blue.... and came to rest on meek, shaken green, shining up at him from a stained and mistreated face. The smile never wavered, but, unseen beneath the mask, one eyebrow rose faintly... “A Wizardmon. You’re screwing a Wizardmon...”

Myotismon kept his eyes on the bed beside him, nodding faintly...

One pale hand extended, gently sliding along the gray flesh, pale and cool on the feverish, ashen face. Startling red lips smiled slightly as the utterly terrified Wizardmon reacted instinctively, leaning into the caress, silently pressing his face into Piedmon’s gently grasping palm. Piedmon smiled softly, withdrawing... and lashed out, catching the utterly unprepared Myotismon across the face with an open, iron hard palm.

Myotismon gasped in surprise and pain, the strength of the Mega’s even casual blow nearly having broken his jaw...

“You’ve taken another blood pet...” He drew back for another blow, his eyes cold...

Myotismon drew back, ducking instinctively into a cringe... “Yes, my Lord.”

The hand lashed out once again- but instead of striking the ashen vampire across the face, he seized the chin instead, hauling him upwards. Myotismon froze, his eyes going wide...

“My dear Myotismon... answer me one question,...” The pale face drew closer... gently running his fingers through the pale golden hair, he blinks sorrowfully at the shaking Ultimate. “Why?” Crimson lips almost touching the pale blue cheek, Piedmon breathes playfully, his voice soft. “Why, my loving, disloyal little Myotismon? Am I not enough...?”

Myotismon’s voice is hopeless and soft. “I just... didn’t want to be on the bottom anymore...”

Piedmon smiled very softly, his breath warm. “...Wrong answer...”

Wizardmon lay silent, his eyes taking in the sight of the two lovers quarrel. He’d heard rumors... quite a number of rumors, being muttered between the giggling Gatsumon and Pumpkinmon, mentioned in unwitting slip-ups by Demidevimon in a moment of distraction... but, Wizardmon thought as he stared in shock, they had all been nothing but rumors. He slid back softly, laying low as Myotismon’s head hits the bed beside him, his expression one of pain- “You will always be on the bottom...” -and resignation, the slightly bigger and far more powerful Mega easily pinning him down- “You’re mine.” -Wizardmon watched in shock, silent as the twin cries- “Now and forever...” -one playful and horny- “Body and soul...” -the other thick, submissive... and unwilling.

~So the rumors are true.~ He had no idea if they were willing lovers at any other time... but this could be mistaken for nothing but rape. Wizardmon couldn’t help but note this as he slid away from the pair, trying to block the hoarse, pitiable screams torn from between the straining, purple lips as Piedmon thrust the pale blue knees apart and up, moving on to the next step of his assertion of dominance... brutally... and without lubrication. Wizardmon ducked into the covers, burrowing to escape the heart rending screech of agony, like a soul being torn...

The covers welcomed him as he retreated beneath the dark, enveloping cloth, the darkness slipping over his head. He lay, silent and warm, feeling the bed rock beneath him as his previous attacker, now the helpless, submissive victim cried out as he was raped, each bucking squeak of the bed accompanied by a hoarse, open mouthed cry. Five minutes, ten... fifteen... the rocking continued as he lay there, listening to his master being defiled by the pale, powerful Mega... After a good twenty minutes, the grinding squeaks slowed... the coughing howls falling away, the hoarse screams turned to soft, bubbling sobbing... he heard playful whispers, a tear choked assertion... and the deep, grinding grunt of a casual, amused orgasm as Piedmon finished his ‘lesson’, marking his territory with his spilling seed...

A few more words... a short, derisive laugh and a peal of agony- presumably as the Mega withdrew his... tool of discipline... and grinding footsteps, fading to silence. Wizardmon lay beneath the covers, his eyes closed, listening silently to the rough, ragged breathing... he could hear the pain in the breath, the barely restrained tears...

Silently, he pulled himself from the covers, placing a hand beneath him to pull free the
cloth clinging to the blood drying on his legs, across his bruised bottom...

Standing, he began to dress, silent, not looking at the pale blue shape laid out on the bed, unmoving, unspeaking...

Clipping the silver pin to his collar, he blinked softly, tying his hair with a smoothed, practiced movement. He didn’t speak... slipping his hat atop his head, he paused a moment, checking his clothing in a daze... uncaring of the dried, pale flakes across his face or the dried blood at his lips... or between his legs...

The open, ruined door loomed, and he made for it with slow, even footsteps... And stopped, hating himself... and turns, eyes on the floor. “Lord Myotis-”

“Shut up. Just... shut up.” A cough, hoarse and ragged. “When in my presence, you are now supposed to call me... just... Myotismon. It is my Lord’s new command. He has also allowed me to continue using you...” He coughed once again, his voice rough with a laugh. “A thing I might not indulge in quite so often... considering the fact that he also plans to... chastise me again, should I choose to feed or play with you.” Heaving dryly, the blue figure on the bed moved stiffly, his movements weak and shaky as he pushed himself up... not meeting his gaze, the Ultimate shook helplessly, his voice clipped and strained. “Wizardmon. In the bureau... to the left.... a bundle of leather twine. Use it... P-Piedmon has hurt my hands... and I... I don’t think I’d have... the precision necessary... to re-secure your jaw.”

Moving obediently, Wizardmon gathered the indicated ball of thin ler str string, nodding softly... and shakes his head. “I... understand now, Myotismon. I’m s-”

“YOU UNDERSTAND NOTHING! You foolish little Champion. You understand nothing... nothing at all.” His voice choked, Myotismon laid there, surrounded by oak splinters... and his own, flowing blood. His voice was bitter. “Nothing... j-just... just... get out.”

“Myotismon I-”

“GET OUT!”

He left. Steps uncertain, he brushed the last of the splinters from his clothing, straightening the hat at his head, and moves onwards... leaving the fallen blue body behind, not looking back.

~The rumors are true, most likely all of them... I knew there had to be something between Myotismon and Lord Piedmon... but I guess I really know now... Love... and punishment. I hate him.. I hate him, and I will never feel anything for hatred for him... but...~ He couldn’t keep the memory out of his mind. The bed, rocking... the unseen bodies... and Myotismon’s pitiful keening of misery... his cries of pain and his grunts of submission beneath his master’s body...

Shaking his head, Wizardmon tugged down his hat, his movements stiff and painful as he made his way back to his own room, his mind elsewhere. ~He lied. He thinks he knows but he doesn’t.... I understand now. He’s a bastard and I hate him... but... everything he does to me... he’s... he’s had it done to him, too..~. the memory came back. Myotismon’s hoarse screams of pain... and resignation. ~He’s been raped before... I don’t know how many times. More than one... maybe more than ten... I don’t know... I just don’t know...~

His door swung open before him... to reveal a shaken and fluff furred Gatomon...

She stared. He stared, his breath catching in his throat...

Shaking her head, she reached forth, winding her paw in his coat and hauling him inside. Shutting the door, she dragged him to the bed... and pushes him down, her eyes panicked. “Oh Wizardmon! I -I saw.. did he hurt you??” Her paws shook as she reached for him...

He pulled back, wincing... Stilling, sta stared at him, her tail stiff and shaking. “Wizardmon!?! Are you okay?? TELL ME!”

His arms went around her, holding her slight bulk to his chest... silent, he snuggled against her, holding her, silent and still... She returned the caress, confused...

She reached for his collar, and he didn’t stop her... even when she gasped, snatching her hand back.. to rn itn it, shaking. “Wizardmon... what has he done to you? ...what happened to your mouth stitches??”

“He... removed them.”

Tilting her head, she cocked an ear. “...but why?”

His smile was bitter. “Why else? To have better access to my mouth.”

He could almost hear her mind work. “I’ll kill him. I’ll-”

He couldn’t help laughing as he ruffled her fur. “You’re silly, you know that?” Holding her to him, he gently murmured against her fur, his voice soft. “Gatomon... don’t worry. He just feeds off of me... Nothing much else. Sure, he teases me a little... but he never hurt me” He lies easily, trying to calm his friend... “I know I smell