Gravitation Fan Fiction ❯ Gravity Falls: Crashing to Earth ❯ Chapter 1

Title: Gravity Falls: Crashing to Earth

Author: JadeHeart

Archived: Found on CLAMPesque Board, gurabite, and AdultFanfiction.net. If anyone else would like it, please ask me first!

Fandom: Gravitation (anime only)

Rating: X

Warnings: gang rape, voilence

Summary: Taki's attack was more than just a beating, and Shuichi suffers the full brunt of it

Authors note: This story was originally written purely after the viewing of the anime series, not the manga. It's a horrible scenario, and I'm not trying to make light of it. Please take heed of the ratings, as I don't wish to offend anyone.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this, they belong to the creators of `Gravitation'.

 

 

 

The rough hands gripped him tightly, wrapping around his slender arms, fingers digging through the clothes and into his flesh.

 

He struggled but couldn't free himself. Not surprising really. He was still winded from the kick to his stomach and they were much bigger than he. He cursed himself for his small size, both in height and body mass. He could do nothing but glare at Taki, who stood before him with a smirk on his face, a cruel and callous grin.

 

Shuichi felt the cold, calloused hand slide under his shirt and across his skin. He cringed at the touch, a cold tendril of fear coiling deep in his stomach. Deep in his mind he knew what was coming. Part of him was praying he was wrong, that he would just receive a beating, but he knew, deep inside, that was a vain hope

 

He felt a hard hand grip his chin, twisting his head upwards, hot breath against his skin, wet tongue running over his neck. This didn't feel anything like it had with Yuki. He grew more frightened, fear clawing at the back of his mind, as he screamed silently in denial.

 

The hot hands were running over his body, pinching his skin and nipples, grabbing his crotch, pressing hard enough to bruise. He continued to struggle, to fight. He wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of just giving in. So he continued to try and fight back, even though it was greeted with fierce blows. They rained down on his body, on his face, bruising, cutting, scratching. He could feel the blood trickle down his face, taste it in his mouth. Still he fought.

 

His arms were twisted behind him, pinning him. He heard the cruel laughter, felt the hands fumbling at the front of his shorts, the button popping, zipper slid down. Then a hand thrusting inside, gripping him hard, not to give pleasure, but to cause pain.

 

He cried out, unshed tears gathering in the corner of his eyes, hearing the cruel laughter surround him. He stared blindly up at the florescent lights of the carpark ceiling, that cold unfeeling light echoing the coldness building in his soul.

 

It couldn't be like this, he thought desperately, his body numbing as his fear intensified. Not like this. Please, oh, please, not like this. Why me? Why now? Yuki!, his mind desperately screamed out to the one person who meant everything to him.

 

His shorts and boxers were pushed to his ankles, shirt pulled up under his arms, baring his naked body to the cold night air. He felt himself suddenly spun around and slammed face first on to the bonnet of the nearby car. A fresh wave of blood filled his mouth from where he had bitten his tongue at the impact.

 

He could feel the cold metal pressed against his cheek, chilling his naked body. His arms were pulled out so he lay spread eagled, legs pushed apart, unable to move. He felt the cruel hands run down his bared back and over his buttocks.

 

He heard a slithering sound, a sound he couldn't place. Then a stinging slash whipped across his bared buttocks. He gasped out at the pain, at the shock. Again he was struck, again, and dimly he was aware that they were beating him with a belt. The blows were hard, meant to hurt. He could hear the grunt of effort as the man brought it down to land violently against his flesh. The pain was blurring, stinging, his vision was blacking out. He could feel moistness on his back, small trickles of blood where the buckle had ripped his skin. The slaps continued to rain down on his sensitive skin, making his body jerk automatically in response, trying to shy away and avoid the pain that was to come each time. All the time the laughter continued.

 

Hands were on his buttocks, spreading the stinging flesh, and he felt something hard forcefully thrust inside. His head lifted, body arching as he screamed at the pain, feeling as though he was being split apart. He couldn't breathe! There was no room for breath, his throat closing, choking him.

 

Tears squeezed from his screwed up eyes, falling unheeded to the metal below him. The pain only increased, slamming into him, pushing his body forward, the bumper of the car digging cruelly into his legs. Hard hands gripped his hips, pulling him backwards.

 

He continued to struggle, moaning, crying, screaming, trying to escape. There had been pain that first time with Yuki, but it hadn't been anything like this, and had been gone quickly. This pain wasn't going, this was increasing.

 

His voice was becoming hoarse, his throat raw with his screams. Why wasn't anyone here?! Why wasn't there anyone coming to help him?! Why was he so alone?! Why, why, WHY?!

 

His mind continued to scream, even when his voice gave out, now nothing more than a whimper. Yuki, oh, Yuki!, he numbly thought, hearing the grunts coming from his assailant as his body was plundered. I don't want you to suffer. I can't let you be hurt because of me. I'ld do anything to prevent that. Yuki…

 

He felt something running down the back of his legs. Warm fluid, leaving a sticky trail. The thrusting became more violent, faster, harder, and then the rapist let out a loud grunt and stopped moving.

 

“Good little bitch,” the harsh voice said with a mocking laugh. “Real tight and hot!”

 

Shuichi felt the pressure ease as the man withdrew. His body gasped in relief, though the pain continued to throb through his senses.

 

“My turn.” another voice said, and Shuichi felt a change in the grip on his arms.

 

What..? he numbly thought, the pain of his body over riding all his senses as his mind struggled to cope.

 

He heard the sound of a zipper being undone and understanding dawned on him with horror, just before another hard object was thrust inside his raw channel, bringing a fresh wave of blood seeping out.

 

He could do nothing but let out a strangled cry, as more tears flowed. He was numb all over, mind, body, soul.

 

He felt himself distancing himself from his surroundings, feeling as though he was stepping outside of his body. He could feel the thrusting into his body, his shins cut from the impact against the bumper of the car, the blood continuing to flow down the back of his legs. He could still hear his own gasps and cries of pain, still feel the tears flowing down his face, pooling under his cheek.

 

But he was removed from it. He could see the flash of a camera, over and over again. Taki, he half thought, his evidence. For Yuki, he remembered as the second rapist finished. This is for Yuki.

 

When the 3rd positioned himself behind Shuichi and thrust in, he was drifting even further, mind unable to reman connected to the abused body. He watched as though he were an observer. Could see himself spread over the car, his white arse thrust upwards, the man pistonning fast inside him. Blood caked the back of his legs, smeared over his buttocks, coated the man's cock.

 

He could see the man with his eyes closed, head thrown back, ecstasy in his face. How could he be enjoying this?, Shuichi wondered. How could this be pleasure when it was so one-sided? Yuki had made it so he had enjoyed it also. And he had, had yearned for more, wanted more. Wanted Yuki. How could these men be liking this? His own penis remained flaccid. It could find no corresponding desire in this brutal act. This is not how it should be.

 

He could see Taki continuing to take photos, the flash illuminating the tableau before him, capturing it, framing it, sealing it in reality for all time. My shame, my hopes destroyed, my love sullied, he thought. And he cried.

 

The third man thrust one last time and pulled out. He wiped a hand over his now flaccid member, removing the blood and come, and callously reached out and wiped his dirty, bloodied hand over Shuichi's back, smearing it over that white expanse, criss-crossed with red welts from the earlier beating and trickles of blood. He then arranged himself and did up his trousers.

 

He turned to Taki. “Hope you enjoyed the show?” he said gleefully.

 

“Every bit.” Taki answered with a laugh.

 

“Okay, cough up.” the man said, holding out a hand.

 

Taki handed over a wad of money. “For services rendered.” he said with a smirk.

 

“Anytime! That was a prime bit of ass! Would have almost thought he was a virgin!” the man said crudely, laughing.

 

His two friends released Shuichi's arms, uncaring as his body bonelessly slid down the car, to crumple on the ground. He lay there unmoving, not trying to cover himself. Lay there barely breathing, eyes glazed with shock, body shaking in reaction.

 

Taki looked down at him as the rapists moved off. He felt nothing for the battered, abused creature at his feet. He only felt victory.

 

“Just remember,” he said down to the boy. “You're finished now. Or your Yuki is!” and he calmly walked away.

 

Shuichi lay there for a long time. He didn't know how long, time meant nothing. The cold concrete under his body chilled him to the bone, but it still wasn't as cold as the iciness filling his soul.

 

Hiro, he suddenly thought through his pain, his numb mind seeking comfort from a source he could trust, rely on. He struggled to his knees. His whole body ached, bruises covering almost every part of him. He tasted blood in his mouth where he had bitten through both his tongue and cheek, from the split lips and bleeding nose after a particularly brutal punch. He reached down and struggled to pull his shorts up, wincing at the pain and pressure on his torn rear, and other parts of his body.

 

Leaning heavily on the vehicles parked there, he slowly made his way outside, into the night. When he exited, he found himself standing in the rain. He raised his head, letting the drops fall on his face, eyes closed as the cold moisture coated his body. He was soon soaked through, right to the bone. Rain…washing everything away…. washing away the evidence of what had occurred. The outside evidence at least.

 

He dropped his head and took a step. Every movement was extreme pain, his abused body, both inside and out, screamed in protest. Doggedly, Shuichi kept moving forward. Must keep going. Help. Need help. Yuki. Can't go to him. Wont go to him. Must protect him. Always.

 

Hiro, he thought continuously, saying the name like a mantra. Hiro. His friend. Help. Hiro.

 

He finally looked up, gripping the wall. He recognized the apartment block before him. Hiro. He had made it.

 

His legs gave way and he slid down the wall, his grip slackening, unable to hold himself up any longer. He landed on his knees in a puddle, the rain continuing to pool around him. His tears flowed freely, streaming down his face, mixing with the rain.

 

I can't do it, he sobbed to himself with grief. I can't make it!, he cried.

 

A hard object dug into his side. Shakily, he reached his hand into the pocket of his shirt. His cold fingers closed around his cell phone.

 

Hiro, he thought, desperately struggling to bring it out. With shaking hands he pushed Hiro's number, his life line, listening to the ring. Then he heard that familiar voice.

 

“Hello?”