Bishonen, Chapter 02

Chapter 2

Nagi froze in his steps when he turned the corner in the hall and found Schuldig there, leaning casually against the wall. The German smirked at him maliciously. Nagi swallowed hard and forced his face to remain passive, though he knew it was a pointless gesture. The telepath would be able to practically smell his fear.

Schuldig moved toward him, reaching a finger up to trail down over the fresh, swelling bruises on Nagi’s face. Nagi couldn’t suppress a wince. Schuldig clicked his tongue in mock sympathy.

"My, my, it sure looks like Crawford has been playing rough. Such a shame that he feels the need to pound you with his fists before he pounds your ass. Poor, delicate bishounen such as yourself should be handled more carefully, don’t you think?" Schuldig purred, his voice dripping with insincerity. Nagi’s stomach twisted. ‘Not now, not now, please not now, not right after Crawford…’ He stared forward expressionlessly.

Schuldig made a ‘tch’ noise in the back of his throat. "Nagi-kun, why do you bother playing these games? You know I can taste your fear. It’s absolutely delicious." His hand was trailing down over Nagi’s chest, caressing firmly over bruised ribs. Nagi flinched away, gritting his teeth as a hiss of pain escaped from his lips. ‘This can’t be happening…’ Schuldig smirked. Nagi’s blood ran cold. He knew that smirk. No doubt remained as to what the man had on his mind. He wanted to cry, he wanted to scream, he wanted to run… but he could do none of those things. He could only follow mutely as Schuldig knotted a fist in his collar and started to lead him down the hallway. His mind quaked with fear and his chest was painfully tight. ‘I can’t do this, I can’t do this, not now… Christ, I’m still bleeding from Crawford, I can’t do this now!’

The German led him into his bedroom, shutting the door behind them. Without preamble, Schuldig started to strip Nagi of his clothes. Nagi couldn’t control himself. He was trembling. He couldn’t let this happen, he just couldn’t. Again, flinging the man away with his power was not an option. He’d tried that the first time Schuldig had come after him, five years ago. Infuriated, the German had retaliated by slamming into his mind with horrifying images of torture and sickening feelings of pain terror. Just thinking of using his power against him now brought on a fierce pounding in his temples. But he couldn’t play the lifeless doll, not when he was already hurting so badly.

Nagi pulled away from the hands that were unzipping his pants. His shirt was already discarded on the floor. "Schuldig…," he said, hating how thin his voice sounded. The man looked up in surprise, his eyes flashing at him angrily, and suddenly his wrists were seized and he was being slammed down on the bed. He gasped in pain and stared up into Schuldig’s face in a daze.

"What, are you suddenly too good for me? You only like getting fucked by that American hard-ass?" Schuldig snarled, his hands gripping Nagi’s wrists against the mattress with bone-crushing force. The boy grimaced in pain. Suddenly the smirk returned to Schuldig’s face, though his eyes remained ablaze. "Oh, I see, you’re concerned about your tight little ass, worried that I’m going to split you so wide open you’ll never stop bleeding. Bishounen, you should know better than that. Haven’t I always been gentle?" He laughed darkly, and Nagi could have wept.

One of his wrists was released briefly as Schuldig reached down under the bed and produced the handcuffs he liked to play with on occasion. He cuffed Nagi’s wrists around one of the rungs of the headboard, stretching the boy’s arms up over his head, the metal already biting into his skin. Pain shot down the arm Crawford had twisted such a short time ago. Schuldig wasted no time in removing the rest of the boy’s clothes. Nagi realized dully that he had been dressed for barely ten minutes.

Nagi tried to take deep even breaths, to not let panic take over. He had always survived this before by closing himself off as much as possible. But Crawford had hurt him badly, and now Schuldig was going to hurt him, too. He was afraid. Afraid of the pain, and of the damage that could be done. It had been a long time since he’d had to endure repeated assaults in such quick succession. Suddenly he yelped as fingers roughly probed his entrance. Schuldig was sneering.

"Crawford really did do a number on you. You’re still leaking blood and cum. I guess that means there’s lube, eh, bishounen?" he laughed. Nagi closed his eyes and turned his head away, his stomach twisting. A sharp backhand across the face elicited a cry of pain and returned his attention to the man hovering above him. "Don’t you dare look away from me!" Schuldig snarled. Nagi grit his teeth and swallowed the lump of fear in his throat as he watched the German unzip his own pants, revealing his erection. The man positioned himself at his entrance, pushing Nagi’s legs back and up over his shoulders. Nagi gasped at the pain in his ribs as his thighs were pressed up against his chest. And then Schuldig was pushing inside of him.

Nagi screamed, pulling reflexively on his bound wrists. The pain was unbearable. He was still somewhat stretched from Crawford, but it made little difference as ripped and abraded flesh was ripped further apart. Through pain-fogged eyes he could see Schuldig grinning as he pushed in to the hilt. The pain was so intense that it felt as if he was literally being ripped in two. ‘Oh God oh God oh God oh God, he’s killing me…!’ Nagi thought in blind panic. Schuldig began to thrust, taking advantage of the fresh blood to ease his own passage even as it caused the boy beneath him to sob and scream in pain.

His body was being driven back into the mattress repeatedly, pushing the breath from his lungs. It felt like a searing, white-hot rod was pistoning into him over and over again. The handcuffs bit into his wrists as his arms were jerked forward in time to Schuldig’s brutal thrusts, the skin breaking, blood running down to drip on the mattress. Nagi could feel the blood running down his ass, too. There was so much blood, even as the man on top of him continued to rip and tear into him. The pain was too much. His vision was swimming. He was sure he was going to die.

"Schuldig… please… stop…," Nagi managed to gasp between cries of pain. Schuldig was so surprised that his rhythm almost faltered. The boy had never begged before. He had always endured without a word. But first the protest when he’d been undressing him, and now this. Schuldig grinned darkly and began to thrust harder, satisfied as the boy’s cries rose in pitch. He was going to make him hurt like he’d never hurt before. He’d show him who was in charge here.

After a while, Nagi’s cries fell silent. He’d lost consciousness. Growling in annoyance Schuldig backhanded him. The boy’s eyes fluttered open, though the screaming did not resume. Instead it was replaced by hitching, pain-filled sobs as the boy starred dully at the ceiling.

Finally Schuldig was approaching his climax. He leaned forward and pounded into the small body beneath him with renewed vigour, hitting the boy again when his eyes started to roll back in his head. He came with a satisfied grunt, and lay gasping for breath for a moment before pulling out of the boy, letting his legs fall limply to the mattress. Nagi convulsed in pain, giving out a strained whimper.

Schuldig grimaced when he saw how much blood there was. He’d have to replace the sheets. His eyes traveled up to Nagi’s face. The boy was panting hard, his eyes lidded and glassy, sweat beading on his forehead. Schuldig’s jaw tightened. Even like this, he could not deny the boy’s beauty. The beauty that Crawford lusted after. The young, effeminate beauty that he’d wanted over him. Schuldig’s lips settled into a satisfied smirk. He knew that it irked Crawford to no end that when he had rejected Schuldig in favour of Nagi, Schuldig had started fucking the boy as well. At first it had been purely to get back at Crawford, but he had found that he enjoyed fucking Nagi, he enjoyed taking out his resentment and his anger on the boy. He enjoyed the sense of power it gave him, forcing his will on the smaller body, making him helpless, making him hurt.

Schuldig grabbed a handful of tissues and cleaned himself off, then pulled up and zipped his pants. He unlocked the handcuffs, freeing Nagi’s bruised and bleeding wrists. The boy was barely conscious, his deep shuddering breaths the only sign of life. With a satisfied smirk, Schuldig turned and left the room.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Schuldig went down to the kitchen to get a drink, and found Crawford sitting at the table reading a newspaper. The American looked up at him with a disdainful expression.

"Enjoy yourself?" he asked dryly.

"Doing what?" Schuldig smirked nonchalantly. Crawford glared at him.

"As if I couldn’t hear what you were doing. That was quite the racket, Nagi screaming like that," Crawford retorted.

Schuldig snorted. "And I suppose you were quiet when you were fucking him earlier," he replied.

Crawford sharpened his glare. "Well, you better not have hurt him too badly, we have a mission tonight," he said icily.

"As if you never hurt him! You use your precious toy like a punching bag. If things happen to get a little out of hand now and then when I’m fucking him, you can hardly say a thing," Schuldig replied with a sneer. Crawford rose to his feet, setting his paper aside.

"A little out of hand?" he inquired coldly. Schuldig felt an evil thrill. Crawford was going to be pissed that Nagi was hurt. He just smirked at the American. Crawford’s eyes narrowed, and then he turned and headed upstairs.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Nagi lay unmoving on the bed. His entire body was on fire with pain. He hurt so much he was practically numb. And he could feel the blood. There was so much blood. It was staining the sheets beneath him, pooling around him, soaking into the mattress. He figured that he must be torn up pretty badly inside. Both of his rapists had been particularly rough, and his body could only take so much after days, weeks, months of the same. Maybe it would be too much this time. Maybe he really was dying. ‘And maybe that’s not such a bad thing,’ he thought, overwhelmed by misery. There was darkness encroaching over his vision, and he welcomed it. But before he could slip completely away, Crawford burst into the room.

The man took one look at him and started cursing under his breath. He leaned over the bed and gripped Nagi’s face, giving him a shake. Nagi couldn’t hold back a groan. Schuldig appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a smirk on his face.

"Nagi!" Crawford barked. "Get up! We have a mission tonight." With some effort, Nagi managed to focus his eyes on the man above him, giving him an incredulous stare. He couldn’t be serious, could he?

"Yes, bishounen, there’s important work to be done," Schuldig purred as he moved to stand beside Crawford, who shot him an evil glare. As Nagi continued to lie there without moving, Crawford gripped his upper arms and hauled him up to a sitting position. It was all Nagi could do not to scream. Agony shot up his spine. Fresh tears burned in his eyes.

"Now, you’re going to get cleaned up. This is a very important mission, and I will not tolerate any screw-ups for any reason, do you understand me?" Crawford seethed, giving him another shake. Nagi stared at him in shock, trying to wrap his mind around the man’s anger, around why he was acting like he’d chosen to be in this condition. Crawford frowned at his continued silence, and backhanded him across the face. Nagi cried out, reeling back, and it was only the man’s grip on one arm that prevented him from falling back on the mattress. Schuldig smirked.

"I said, do you understand me?" Crawford reiterated. Mutely, Nagi gave a quick nod, the movement causing the room to tilt and waver alarmingly. Crawford hauled him to his feet. His legs didn’t want to support him. It took great effort to keep from falling to the floor. He felt blood trailing down his legs, and his stomach twisted. Crawford pulled him out of the room, stalking down the hall, and Nagi had little choice but to stumble after him, his entire body protesting. They reached the open door of the bathroom and Crawford propelled him inside. He instinctively reached out to prevent his face from slamming into the bathroom wall, and his arm that had been twisted earlier took the brunt of the impact. He sobbed in pain, his body crumpling helplessly onto the floor as he cradled his throbbing arm to his chest. Schuldig’s laughter echoed dimly in his brain.

"Clean yourself up. We leave in less than an hour. Schuldig, keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn’t pass out," Crawford ordered, before stalking away. Schuldig swore, and then called out after him.

"Why do I have to do it? It’s not like you didn’t do your share of inflicting the damage!" Predictably, Crawford did not answer. Schuldig turned back to the bathroom doorway, scowling at Nagi, who remained crumpled against the wall in a daze. He sneered. He strolled into the bathroom almost casually, and nudged Nagi with the toe of his boot. The boy flinched, and his sneer widened into a grin.

"Come on, get your cute little ass up, bishounen, we don’t have all day," he drawled.

Nagi huddled in on himself. He hurt so much. Blood was still leaking from him. Things felt broken and torn inside of him. His arm throbbed, his wrists stung, his face ached. ‘If you don’t get up, he’s going to hurt you more,’ a voice in his head warned. As if in confirmation, Schuldig kicked him, and he hissed in pain.

"I said GET UP!" Schuldig bellowed. Nagi closed his eyes, breathing deeply. He summoned every ounce of his strength, and bracing himself against the wall, he managed to shakily rise to his feet. For a moment, he just stood leaning against the wall, forehead pressed against the cool tile, waiting for the room to stop spinning. There was no way he could move on his own. He summoned his power, using it to help support his weight. But he was disturbed by how difficult it was to concentrate hard enough, the power that normally came so easily taking great effort to maintain.

Under Schuldig’s watchful glare, he unsteadily climbed into the shower and turned on the water. He listlessly grabbed a washcloth and started running it over his skin. He stared down in grim fascination at the water swirling down the drain. It was dark pink with his blood. Pain hummed along his nerves, making the world fuzzy around the edges. His vision swam in and out of focus. Only his power was keeping him on his feet.

When he climbed out of the shower some time later, he saw that Schuldig had retrieved clean clothes for him from his room. The German eyed him critically as he dried himself with a towel.

"I suppose you can handle dressing yourself. I have better things to do than baby-sit you," he said with a smirk. He leaned forward and caressed Nagi’s bruised cheek, amused when the boy flinched away. "We’re leaving soon. Don’t be late, bishounen." With that he turned and left the room.

Nagi looked down as he felt wetness trickling down his leg. He was still bleeding. He wiped furiously at the blood with the washcloth. What was he going to do? It would stain his clothes. His stomach twisted at the thought of a telltale bloodstain spreading over the back of his pants. He looked down at the washcloth in his hand. Sighing in dismay, he wiped away more of the blood, and with great pain managed to pull on his underwear. His cheeks burning with shame, he stuffed a clean, dry washcloth down the back of them. He wanted to sob with the embarrassment of it, with the utter indignity of it, but he had little choice, unless he wanted to suffer greater indignity.

He looked at himself in the mirror after painfully shrugging on the rest of his clothes. The fresh bruises on his face were swelling, flushed red against his pale skin. By tomorrow, they would be shades of dark blue and purple. His left eye was almost swollen shut. He knew that similar bruises decorated the rest of his body. Not much of a bishounen now, are you? Every fiber of his being ached. His head was still swimming. The effort to keep upright was exhausting. And he had to go on a mission?

Using his power, he managed to get himself downstairs, where he found an impatient Schuldig in the kitchen. The German sneered at him.

"Crawford and the Farf are already in the car. Bradley’s very impatient. If I’d had to go up there to get you, I would have been highly displeased. C’mon," he purred, gesturing for Nagi to follow as he strode out of the kitchen and into the garage. Nagi couldn’t help but grimace in pain as he followed. He felt like he was going to pass out at any moment. He was filled with the dreadful certainty that going on this mission in such a condition was a very bad idea. But he knew trying to explain that to Crawford was quite pointless. The man was already angry with him for being hurt, conveniently ignoring the part he had played in causing the hurt.

Out in the garage, he gingerly slid into the backseat of Crawford’s car, wincing at the stabbing pain sitting sent up his spine. Next to him, Schuldig smirked. From the driver’s seat, Crawford shot him a baleful glare. Farfarello, in the passenger seat, ignored him, which suited Nagi just fine. He’d always been immensely grateful that the insane Irishman didn’t share his other two teammates’ interest in him. One could only imagine the horrific turn Farfarello’s sexual interests might take.

Nagi was not sure how long they were in the car. The smooth motion lulled his exhausted mind into a daze. He was only dimly aware of Crawford outlining the details of the mission as he drove. He gathered that Crawford and Schuldig were the active participants, obtaining some information from an ex-colleague of Takatori’s, while he and Farfarello were to be backup, as Weiss was expected to put in an appearance.

The mention of Weiss made Nagi’s muddled mind turn to thoughts of the Weiss member known as Bombay. Omi. His chest tightened. He found himself thinking of the young man more and more often. He sometimes wondered if Omi, the youngest member of Weiss, was subject to the same… treatment by the older members of his team as he was by the older members of Schwarz. The thought alone was horrifying. Omi was too… too innocent, too pure, to have to suffer through such shame.

The car stopped. They were at a high-rise luxury condominium building. Practically on autopilot, he followed the others inside. After a long ride in the elevator, Schuldig and Crawford disappeared into one of the units while Nagi and Farfarello waited in the hall, on lookout. Nagi leaned against the wall. He was so exhausted. He just wanted to curl up into a small ball and die. The wold was out of focus. Again, he was amazed that Crawford thought him fit enough to be on a mission. He lost track of time. There were muffled sounds from inside the condo from the ‘interrogation’. Farfarello paced the hallway, agitated, licking a knife. Suddenly there was a noise out in the stairwell. Nagi snapped to attention. Farfarello crouched to the ground, growling low in his throat.

The door to the condo swung open just as Abyssinian and Balinese appeared out of the stairwell. Schuldig swore. Then Balinese and Bombay appeared at the other end of the hallway. Nagi’s heart lurched when he saw Omi. He suddenly felt very dirty, and very ashamed of how he must look. As if it matters, he thought bitterly.

"Elevator," Crawford barked. "Nagi!" he added sharply. Nagi threw up his psychic shield around Schwarz. He’d forgotten. His head blossomed in pain. He was alarmed at how hard it was to maintain the shield. With Weiss unable to penetrate the psychic barrier, Schwarz was able to make it to the elevator. Schuldig had to drag a stumbling Nagi along, as all his strength was focused on the shield.

Inside the elevator, Crawford hit the button for the first floor. "They’re taking the freight elevator," he announced grimly. "It’s faster." The walls of the elevator seemed to undulate to Nagi’s dazed mind. He honestly didn’t know how he was managing to keep upright. The stabbing pain in his ass threatened to make him break down in sobs.

At first, there was no sign of Weiss when they reached the first floor. They headed for the car, with Nagi’s shield as protection. Nagi was certain that without Schuldig’s grip on his arm, pulling him along, he would have collapsed. His entire body was screaming with pain. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton.

Outside, Bombay appeared, crossbow drawn. Instinctively, Nagi used his power to throw the boy back, but not too hard. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt him. Omi slammed into the wall, the breath knocked out of him. Nagi was aware of Schuldig’s hand suddenly leaving his arm, and he swayed on his feet, concentrating only on holding Omi in place. It seemed important to keep the young man from getting hurt. He could hear the sounds of fighting around him.

"Nagi!" he heard Crawford yell. He turned towards the man’s voice, and was greeted by the sight of Abyssinian bearing down on him, katana raised above his head to strike. This is it, I’m going to die, he thought dully, wondering what had become of his barrier. The thought was not as alarming as it should have been. Then he realized that it was not the blade that Abyssinian was swinging at him, but the hilt of the sword. It connected with the side of his head, and Nagi slipped into merciful darkness.