Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Denial ❯ Chapter 8
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: priscel 
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 01.29.2006 | Updated On: 06.04.2006 | Pages: 4 | Words: 10.1K | Visits: 262 | Status: Work In Progress
Anime/Manga: Gundam Wing Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 01.29.2006 | Updated On: 06.04.2006 | Pages: 4 | Words: 10.1K | Visits: 262 | Status: Work In Progress
Disclaimers: Gundam Wing or the characters therein are not mine, only Quin. ‘Nuf said.
Warnings: descriptive content, angst, dark, gore, ncs mostly implied and other bad stuff, drug addiction/abuse, flash-backing, oh did I forget to mention death? See first chap for full spiel.
Pairings: . . .
Huggles reviewers. Feedback is appreciated.
---xXxXxXx--- means transition or scene change
Denial
by priscel
seven- urges
The dim street lights, reflected off his auburn hair as he ran his hands through it in hopes of easing his frustration. He strolled along the sidewalks of the industrial district, the eyes watching his movement increased the closer he got to the club - weighing and accessing what he carried of value and if he himself would be of value. His own darted to vacant windows of buildings, the quiet never bothered him, he knew what was there and loved to be apart of it. Even though a part of him cringed when darkness seemed to loom menacingly in the unlit spaces, as if waiting to touch him, lock him back away from the surface once again. He felt separate but aware; he had no control over the kiss and grope he willingly shared with one of hookers as he passed Broad. He watched them half-heartedly while flashes of a slender, black clad youth permeated his mind. His mind’s eye trailing along the youth’s contours; he was angular and all planes like any other boy. But he had hips not overly pronounced that leant curve to his tapering waist. He found any movement the youth's braided brownish, red-gold length to be seductive especially when it swung across that lithesome forms’ round ass.
He became thrilled at the thought of being able to play and run his hands through the mass that seemed almost sentient, alive. The part of him that desperately tried to stay on the surface balked and sicken with his growing interest in the teen he had tried so hard to keep himself away from. He would not voice his name, in fear of himself and the other images it would invoke. But it was too late for that now. His efforts to stop himself were all foiled by a few more droplets of that blissful liquid each day. The dominant part was free to do whatever he wished and the majority of that time was spent watching the boy and his family from a distance, noting his development as his lust grew and overrode the sane part that screamed and fought for some foothold on who he used to be. He was so tired of fighting, of trying to deny that it was him who had did that so long ago. He missed his family so much, but he wouldn’t risk his brothers more pain, give his mother more grief. He wouldn’t.
Before he knew it, he was walking passed the club to the apartments that the owner ran more like a hotel. He entered the three-story complex, nodded to the guard and receptionist at the desk and by-stepped a rutting couple making their way to a room nearby. He watched as he waited for the elevator with disinterested glossy eyes, trying to keep his thoughts on anything but Duo.
He found himself in the elevator, that feeling came again like he wasn’t really there just running on automatic. At the elevator’s stop, he was already swiping the back of his metal key through the hidden card port on the elevator panel. It was an ingenious idea, everyone would think it required a key card when in actuality it only used the key to his home. ‘Oh the things that money can buy.’ Pausing when he heard his voiced thought in duplicate, he shrugged off the strangeness and continued to walk down the short hallway, unlocking the door at the end to step inside a grand livingroom.
He was taken aback by the sheer space but his eyes took on a bored look as roved over his surroundings. In all his life he had never been in a place so big, but memory caught up to him, like it always did when he felt like he was outside his body and in no control, this was theirs. The entire third floor was his and Tyre’s apartment. He remembered when he was kicked out on the street by his mother; he had no place to go and wandered aimlessly until he got to the Park. He ended up sleeping on a bench, only to be awoken from a fitful doze by screams coming from a distant alley. He shivered but not from the fear that he could have been that unanswered plea for help or from the cold but from need, a hunger he couldn’t understand. He didn’t want food. He needed more Ice, the consumable powdered crystal form of Streamers. He went through his bag and pockets but there were no little packs of blue powdered bliss. He slowly realized that he’d left it at home. No. No, not his home. He didn’t have one anymore. Not after what he had done, what he still wanted to do. Time lapsed and he realized he was standing at Tyre’s door, his pained body wanting to collapse from the exertion of walking such a distance - Tyre lived in the middle class section of the colony, more than three miles from the Park.
Stepping away from the memory, Quin kicked off his shoes, threw his gray jack toward the couch. He looked up in time to see it sailing back over the couch to the floor, proceeded by a mumbled curse from the couches’ occupant. He walked over and picked it up before leaning on the couch to look down at the pale skinned man, his eyes trailed down - up passed his sunken cheeks to his black, sleep messed hair splayed on the pillow. The man was thin, too thin to be healthy and like most who used Streamers, slated to die soon from irreversible dehydration and heart failure.
He thought back to when he had found a customer of Tyre’s downstairs in the lobby trying desperately to get to him. He never made it. He knew the symptoms: loss of weight and color, atrophied muscles - eventual paralysis, and the final stages - violent arrhythmias, then a distinctive gasp (death’s toll) before the heart constricted into a knot of tense muscle and arrested. In some, it was said that the heart valves ruptured, leaving the knotted bloodless muscle surrounded by the pooling blood from the body.
Quin found himself smiling and hoping that the boy was a bleeder. He figured the boy must be in the final stages as he watched the boy blink twice more before his eyes remained open. He kneeled beside the boy and put his ear to his chest. He could hear and feel the violent thumping within and he sat up quickly when he felt more than he heard the boys pained gasp for air. He listened and watched, in sick fascination, as the gasp became a choked sound in the boys' throat which became more like a gurgle as the sound passed the boy’s thin slack lips while blood began to trickle from the corners of his mouth. Then Quin’s eyes flitted along twin trails of red to the boys' eyes. He moved closer to look into the sunken, dulling teal eyes and watched as they dilated. The boy moved no more. Quin stuck his hand beneath the boy’s shirt to feel the intense heat coming from the boys’ chest even through the thin hospital gown he wore beneath it. He pressed his hand into that heat, stopping when his hand became moist; ‘the boy was a bleeder.’
A grumble brought him back from his revere this time. He looked over the sleeping figure beneath him with the same fascination as he rested his head on his crossed arms and smiled. He knew he was dying, but Tyre would be dead long before him and he couldn’t die fast enough. A part of him wondered if that’s how Duo or Solo felt about him for what he had done to them.
He thought back to that day again, the day he had found himself at Tyre's door.
- - - xXxX (Flashback) XxXx- - -
Tyre answered the door with sleep mussed hair, eyeing his watch wearily then perking up at the sight of Quin, immediately grabbing his arm and pulling him in. Although Quin stiffened at the too familiar touches, he chalked it up to his friend being sleepy and was happy that Tyre cared enough to let him stay. Another plus was that he gave him Ice as reassurance that giving up the drugs and begging for forgiveness for whatever he had done wrong that him had gotten him thrown out.
Tyre made Ice readily available for Quin, the bright look in his eyes when he first saw his bedraggled, lost friend was replaced with a contemplative one. It was one clue of many he would miss in his need for those little blue, powdered crystals. Quin often caught himself, when dreams wouldn’t cease and he was forced to watch it - relive it all in livid detail while trapped in his body screaming for it to end, he stuffed himself with Ice. He had gotten used to it. So much so that he didn't notice the sharply sour yet bitter after taste of it when he caught himself putting it in his food and drink a few times so he could have it on his breaks from working in the scrap yard.
It wasn’t enough though.
The dreams still came and so did the memories. He moved to liquid Streamers, the dropper allowed him to put its concentrated form in his eyes. He was overdosing, he knew it and didn’t care. Apart of him just wanted to forget and the other part just wanted. He needed it so bad to drown out the memories, the shock that still ran through him from the muffled screams of Solo beneath him. He remembered how he shook when he woke to find Duo’s hair tie in his hand while he lay in a wet spot that was a mixture of blood and semen. He had tried to say it, to convince himself, that the blood was his own but all he had were some bruises none of which were bleeding heavily enough for the deep red smears he had seen. He shivered, feeling sick knowing he couldn’t deceive himself that the blood was Duo’s.
He spent days wallowing in self pity then rending himself numb with the Streamers Tyre supplied. A day later, he was grateful he still had his job. Mr. Schbeiker had asked what had happen with his mother, he muttered nothing and went back to work. After two months, the liquid drops made all his worries disappear. Every day before work he dosed up enough to last until he got back to Tyre’s. Today, he stood atop a pile of scrap, his gloved hands shifting through rubble, grumbling and tossing to his left rotten or rusted junk. Sweat beaded on his flexing swimmers’ frame and a thin line of sweat glisten off the tip of his nose as he worked loose sheets of metal. The jerking motion caused tufts of his sandy brown hair to peek out from under his gray bandanna. He paused, swaying slightly, the merciless heat aided by the simulated sun made him dizzy but he noticed others stilling in their tasks to take a breather like him, so he ignored the roil of his stomach that followed the dizziness.
He began to move to another pile when he tripped over a protruding piece of metal nearly going head first off the side of the pile. He took deep breaths to calm himself, then kneeled down and examined it. He squinted at the reflective surface and half laughed at his luck. It was a pressure valve, similar to the one Mr. Schbeiker needed for one of two broken cranes. Shit, if he could salvage it, it would lessen some of the handpicking they’ve been doing. The more he thought about it, he had just saved his boss a thousand in credits and import costs.
Hours later, his wife beater drooping with perspiration and showing off more of his well-muscled chest, he had worked half of it out. From what he could see, it was in damn good condition too. He was elated. His smiled crumbled when his vision doubled, his knees gave out and he fell to them around the valve. His head dropped, his teeth clicking as his chin hit his chest. He remained still for a while before uncontrollable tremors shook him. His knees hurt from their impact on the ridged parts, but that pain was drowned out by an overwhelming craving, need that made his chest tighten and made him grind his teeth.
“Hey Junior! You ok up there?” He could hear the cautious steps of the speaker, Ref, making his way up to him.
Quin pulled himself together enough to hide the pain in the lazy, tired smile he gave the man as he looked up from his position.
“Yea, Ref. The heat’s getting to me is all. I found this press-”
“Junior, you’re bleeding.” The man was suddenly kneeling before him and pressing a piece of cloth to his nose. Quin blinked, watching the man as he fused, forcing him to sit and checking his head for trauma. Ref treated him like a son and was his voice of reason when he worked sixteen hour days and got no real sleep.
“I’m ok. It’s just the heat.” He repeated taking the rag and squeezing his nose as he tilted his head back.
“I saw you fall.” Ref ran a hand over his bald brown head, shaking his head at the definite look in the boys' hazel eyes. “No, I don't want to hear it. Go on ahead home son. You’ve done enough for today.”
Quin's eyes widen then he shut them quickly and gasped silently behind the cloth from the pain that shot straight to his brain. “Puu-”
“No buts. Every day you’ve been out here for the passed TWO months. Even old men like me need a break. You’re too young to be working like that.”
“I kno. I ‘afta. Phip I ‘on’t ork-”
“No need, son.” Ref shook his head as if the motion alone would put a stop to Quin’s need to explain. “You’ll be fine if you take it slow for a little while. At least make sure you have a day off in every week you work. If you do that I won’t pester you. You got that JR?”
“Yea I ‘earya Ref.”
“Good. Now get. I’ll get one of the other boys to get that valve out. Good job son.” He punched Quin's shoulder lightly, rising to his feet and helping him to stand slowly.
“Th-thanks Ref.” Quin tried to keep his smile but the need was eating away at him, so it became a pained grimace instead.
He struggled to walk calmly out, waving bye to the concerned Mr. Schbeiker as he wondered if the nosebleed was really from the heat because he had never gotten one from coming down before. Further thoughts about it were pushed out of his head by a painful headache and the churn of his stomach. He stumbled, dropping the rag and started to run. He thought he had dosed up enough to last the whole day. He thought of the way he took the drug as medicinal, figuring out just how much was needed to kill the pain from the memories of the hurt he had caused his brothers that always came back like a jackhammer to his head when he didn't take enough. It had worked before. He had never fallen this hard. ‘That night in the park, it hadn’t hurt this much,’ he thought as the streets and cars he passed became a blur.
By the time he made it to the door, he was a quivering mass of need, the keys clinking loudly in his ears. He dropped and fumbled with them many times in his agitation. When he finally got the door open, he fell through and crawled over to his backpack propped up by the leather couch and rummaged for his plastic dropper. He pulled it out and gawked at it in shock. It was empty. It was full the last time he checked which had been right before he left, he was sure. He sucked on the tip but nothing came out. He knew it was pointless to look around the apartment for more because Tyre never kept any there.
He didn’t know how long he was sitting there staring blankly at the walls but he came out of it at the sound of the door opening. I don't remember closing the door, he thought listlessly. A weal smile came across his face when he saw Tyre walk and close the door behind him. Tyre looked down and lifted a brow in question. Early on, Tyre had refused him anymore handouts until he got paid. He didn’t understand why, especially when Tyre knew he was good for the creds. Tyre knew how much he made and since he’d been staying with Tyre he paid him extra, leaving himself with fifty or so creds. Quin swallowed hard when remembered Tyre's refusals as he strained to stand and approached him with knocking knees. They were the same height but he felt smaller for some reason.
“T-Ty, do you . . . do you have some on you. I-I know you said not until . . . b-but I mean I . . . Fuck. I need it badly. I think something’s wrong. I-I had some this mornin’ a-and . . . ” Quin bit down on his bottom lip and balled up his hands into fists hoping to stop his stutter and their shaking.
He glanced up to see Tyre shaking his head 'no' before he could get his mouth to work again, his hazel eyes widen in despair.
“I told you before, I need money. If I keep giving it to you on credit, you’ll think you can get it-”
'No! I've always paid. It was only that one time when Mom had put me out and I didn't have any cash on me.' He swallowed, his thoughts merging with his strained voice. “N-n-no I wouldn’t, Ty. Y-you know m-me. I p-p-promise you. Y-y-you . . . ”
Tyre shook his head again before he continued, “You’ll be like the other addicts and because you know me you’ll think you can get it like that all the time and . . . then you wouldn’t work and I’ll be in some deep shit because my supplies will be dropping because of you. ”
Quin closed his eyes as Tyre’s refusal was followed by more tremors of pain, which he had been fighting off to no avail. He bit down harder on his lip, hoping that buffering pain with more pain would help him think. It did to an extent. Quin didn’t know what he could give as collateral. He didn’t have anything of value. All his music equipment was at his mother's place.
“Hey don’t . . . ” Tyre grabbed his chin, the surprised action forced Quin to open his mouth, his lower lip slipping free of his punishing teeth to reveal a dark red sheen spreading across his trembling lips. “Don’t.”
Quin looked up, startled by the sudden soft intonation of Tyre’s voice. He was smiling at him. He took an unconscious step back, freeing his chin from Tyre’s hold. It was a predatory smile. He had never seen it on Tyre’s face before. It brought back a feeling he’d been having for a while but he kept ignoring. When he did remember, or aware enough of it it was more intense than the creeps that you get when you’re being watched and he felt it stronger whenever he took showers. Every time he would check the room thoroughly, the door was locked and there was always no one there. His legs threaten to give out on him, his fear and uncertainty about his friends' intentions was lost in another mind numbing wave of need and pain. Tyre grabbed his arm, steadying him and pulling him closer.
“... looking so pained . . . ” Tyre licked his lips and gave Quin an appraising look, Quin was still in his scraggily tank and covered in sweat with grit here and there. He moved in closer, breathing in Quin’s musky scent, peering into half-lidded, pained eyes that were now a darker brownish green. “I... I’ll help you. If, if you do some things for me. I-”
“Any- anything.” He answered quickly, his need-hazed mind clearing enough to feel his mouth move and hear the quiver in his voice as his mouth became dryer. He was painfully aware that the usual feeling of detachment that he always got from using the drug was long gone, the pain cementing him to his body to feel it all. Yet, he didn’t feel whole. A sense of loss also came over him; it felt like a part of him had gotten away, closed itself off in the absence of the drug.
Then he heard his words too late. He wanted to yell at himself for letting his mouth run without thinking. The pleased look on Tyre’s face and his body language told him that he bartered to do more than washing dishes or cooking; Tyre’s dark eyes had a lustful gleam to them. He knew then he had bartered a sexual favor for a few more doses. He always knew that Tyre was interested in him and he had told him he didn’t swing that way and had nothing against Tyre being that way. His memories of his brothers pained expression flitted across his mind when he told him this but the drug made those memories blissfully dull, numb. He didn’t know what he felt about the sneer Tyre was sending his way but for the moment his preferences weren’t going to get him what he needed, it didn’t matter anymore. He began to psyche himself out, he could do a hand job, he would just imagine he was masturbating. ‘Yea.’ He decided he’d imagine that he was touching himself with thoughts of a very topless Kayla before him. ‘But what if he wanted more than that?’ He asked himself, holding back his shiver. He didn’t think he could screw Tyre, he wasn’t strong enough to do him doggy style . . . swallowing the nauseous feeling that took him. He thought doggy style would be the only he'd be able to do it and delude himself that Tyre wasn't male . . . blocking the sight of his flat chest and protruding member.
‘May-maybe a blow job,’ he voiced mentally, an echo of the quivering one he had spoken with before. He knew he was desperate. He tried to swallow the lump that lodged itself in his throat again, Kayla had done that for him enough times that he could try it and he’d be damned if he swallowed!
He held out his hand thinking that Tyre would let him dose up before he did his part. Tyre just smiled again and took his hand, pulling him toward his room. A sense of foreboding came over him as he was pulled to Tyre’s room. His legs stop working, causing Trye to tug on his arm to continue their forward motion. Quin tried to pull away but Tyre grabbed both of his arms, just below his elbows and all but carted him into the room. Quin could feel his uneasiness mounting over the constant pain. He didn’t want to do it, he wanted to leave and tell him to go fuck himself, but everything had a price and if he had gone back out there to the streets he knew the payment would’ve been worse. Being used by a friend was safer right? In resignation, he stopped resisting when the stray thought of asking Ref for some creds came to him but that had given Tyre all the time he needed. Quin found himself standing near the dresser furthest from the door when he heard the door shut and the lock click.
‘Why was he locking the door?’
“T-Ty, why di-did you lock it? I-I know where . . . creds. Yea. I-I can go get som-”
“Shhh. This is fine.”
With a pained whimper, Quin started to kneel before Tyre but he was stopped when Tyre caught his chin and tilted his head up, running his thumb over his lips, smearing the blood across them before crushing them with his own. Tyre took his payment in relish, invading his mouth, swallowing Quin’s attempts to breathe before he took his body.
Semiconscious, he laid there limp, thinking that he had never done the things Tyre had done to him to Duo or Solo. He wondered if this was some sort of retribution for what he had done to them, but thought it mostly carelessness on his part because he knew that Tyre watched him at school and always made sure he could leave with him after. The one word that best describes Tyre in his mind was obsessed. When he got his job, he had cut back his use of the blue crystals after what had happen with Duo. Tyre demanded reasons as to why he was cutting back, why he wasn’t coming to see him anymore. He simply told him personal reasons and Tyre stopped hanging around him as much, becoming distant and volatile. He brought him things and so did Kayla because he would forget to pack lunches. So he was always hungry and they brought plenty of food and he was more than happy to accept it. He realized too late that Tyre had been lacing his food with liquid Streamers. After he found out, he tried to stop using it but it hurt too much to stop. He started not to care as long as he got more of it. He ended up buying more of Ice, just upping the amount he took. He became paranoid and made sure his Mother didn’t notice his lack of sleep or avoided answering her questions when he’d go out at night to follow Tyre.
His need for the drug blinded him to all this as he laid there in pain. He came back to himself to wonder if what he was feeling now - disgusted, filthy, ashamed and other things he couldn’t name - if this was what they had felt when he hurt them as everything greyed out.
The oldest was a man with stark white hair, his beard and mustache grayish in comparison was stylishly cut to break at the line of his thin pale lips. He sat in a black tweed suit, his black felt hat in his lap with one white gloved hand toying with the feather in its brim. Quin was struck by the man’s face, he seemed almost kind with his soft features, prominent cheekbones and aristocrat flare but when he smiled . . . Quin couldn’t stop the shudder that went through him, there was something else there in that smile. Before he could get a good look at the other two guys, Tyre came over to him and pulled his head back so that he was up on one foot with his one knee on the floor. A hmm of appreciation and a draft was his only indication that Tyre was displaying him.
“Your entertainment lady and sirs.” Quin squeezed his eyes shut, both his hands holding onto the hand pulling his hair. He could feel the flush of embarrassment darkening his cheeks.
When he heard movement, he froze. Then, he groaned wondering why they wouldn’t just let him die or sleep or something, he felt so tired. Even wrecked with pain, he had fought Tyre the entire time he used him; bit him back when he could, and when he could do nothing else but feel Trye above him the pain from his withdrawal gave him something else to focus on until Tyre caused greater pain. He huffed mentally, ‘This was why he was being careful,’ before he could close his legs, the towel was ripped away, his legs held apart and then the hand in his hair was gone, replaced by several other hands, one gripped tightly around his throat keeping him in a kneeling position as another pinched his nose shut.
“Oh Duky, I didn’t really believe Tyre would give us this young man. He seemed rather . . . ” The woman glanced over at the white-haired man as he approached and her contentment was clearly seen across her face as she touched Quin’s chest and pinched his nipples. “...attached to him. I wouldn’t blame him. Such a pretty boy. Although, Tyre, I didn’t think you would get him to agree to use Crystalis?”
“Lily please. He’s an addict. He came begging for more and willing to do any thing for it. I’ve been giving him samples of it, weaning him off Streamers original by upping the concentration in his dropper little by little and taking some back when he wasn’t looking. The clear liquid didn't alter the dark blue color of the original. It was so easy.” Tyre said dispassionately, hoping that the monotone drawl in his voice was enough to hide how he really felt. He couldn’t help the small smile that crept at the corners of his mouth as he watched Quin struggled and defiantly keep his mouth shut and his eyes closed despite Lily’s . . . stimulating touches. He frowned inwardly when he noticed Quin’s flushed face darkening in hues and his chest heaved in its demand for air.
“Perhaps I should thank you, even though you were reluctant to give me his work address. I could have simply had the boy brought to me but your betrayal to him makes this so much the sweeter.” The cultured voice of the white-haired man boomed in Quin’s ear, over the ringing that was already there and his struggle to not give in.
“He’s a stubborn thing and he can hardly move . . . ” Duke peered up at Tyre from his position behind Quin, smiling when he saw Tyre’s jaw clenched, tightening his smile and the hand at his side fist as he ran his hand along Quin’s back and lower. “... still so stubborn, even after you had a go at him, hm? Tsk Tsk and he wants to refuse to give us a bite. The shame!” He said with a theatrical flare that had his acquaintances laughing, while Lily continued to entertain herself with Quin’s body.
“Shame on you Quin. Trying to make yourself pass out so you miss this whole experience. I highly doubt that you can do that, there are ways of waking you up, boy. You don’t want to miss the fun. No, we . . . ” His eyes watched Tyre as his hand moved between Quin’s legs, “can’t have that,” he squeezed Quin’s balls viciously. Quin gave a strangled scream, his panicked almost hazel eyes snapped open and swivelling to Tyre, “ . . . now can we?”
Pain. Quin struggled to close his legs again. His hands drifted down from his neck, releasing the hand at his throat for want of removing the rough hand that kept his balls from shriveling up and trying to crawl up inside his body. But each time he was about to grab for the hand in between his legs, a sudden jerk or pull had his hands going back to claw at and fend off the groping hands and biting teeth. Tears leaked down the sided of his face as he held eye contact with the one person he feebly hoped would put an end to it. He shuddered, panting out his anguish as Tyre gave him a remorseful look. Hope flared in his chest at that look.
“No we can’t.” Came the cold and lustful reply that killed hope quicker than Quin had felt it bloom in his chest.
And Quin deflated with it. Although he continued to combat the people holding him, he seemed to hang in their grip. Tyre put his emotions aside quickly and poured the shot glass of Crystalis into Quin’s mouth. Quin choked and tried to spit it out but a mouth covered his, forcing him to close it against the probing tongue that soon followed.
“Aww come on Poppet, don’t spoil the party. He’s your partner Tyre, he has to participate, get him to.” She whined and turned her glossy eyes to Tyre briefly before returning to Quin trying to get him to give her an open mouth kiss.
“Quin.” Duke stated, running his hand through Lily's shoulder length hair, some silent communication passed between them and she mouthed the abused youth's name, moving closer to him.
Duke smiled as Tyre let his startled expression slip from beneath the lust he had been showing them when they used Quin’s name. He had thought he had been careful not to mention his name.
“Quinny. Quinny. Can’t you taste it? Doesn’t it make you feel good? Don’t hog it all, it’s not fair to the rest of us. Give us a kiss.” Lily crooned after releasing his lips only to cover them with her own again. Quin fell back into the arms of his tormentor, gulping for air through his nose when he managed to free it from the hand that held it. The pain made him tremble and he was barely aware that the hand still holding his balls began to roll them. He tried to turn his head away from Lily who lapped at the corners of his mouth where the drug he hadn’t swallowed dripped as she pushed herself up against him.
Tyre, gritted his teeth as he watched Lily lick Quin’s lips again then nip her way down his jaw to his neck where she suckled his adam’s apple. Duke became impatient and knew how Lily was an adamant contender that she didn’t sell what she didn’t try, but he really didn’t care what she wanted, he wanted to see the effects of Crystalis before he went to Earth. The boy had already become slack in his arms, but he wanted to be sure that he swallowed it all and wasn’t just holding it in his mouth. He was about to inflict more pain when Quin arched up into Lily, a moan slipping passed his lips. Lily locked lips with him immediately, moaning into his mouth. Duke smiled, that was one of the immediate side effects of Crystalis.
Tyre watched. His groin tighten at Quin’s wanton display as he eagerly let them do whatever they wanted, obeyed their commands without resistance, took more of the drug glutenously and cried out in pleasure at his own pain. After some taunts from Lily around her mouthful of Quin and questions from Duke as to how Tyre had rode him as he focused on doing that himself, he joined in, trying to get as much of Quin away from them so they would preoccupy themselves with each other.
He felt empty inside.
He needed to know the day. ‘It’s still daylight,’ he thought, ‘maybe early morning.’ He decided against walking and got his legs to stop wobbling long enough for him to crawl to the TV and read the date as the newscasters began their opening report.
He read the date several times. At that moment, the newscaster's report the happenings around L2 went unheard, the date was the only thing visible to him. His mind couldn’t comprehend no matter how many times he did the numbers. He didn't want to accept that so much time had passed . . . it had been four days.
His knees buckled under him and he fell sideways, his naked side making a wet smack against the floor. He cringed and gritted his teeth as the impact sent waves of pain crashing through his body. He wrapped an arm around his middle, wincing as he tried to curl up into a fetal ball but eventually he settled for lying still on the floor.
Choking on the foul taste in his mouth and hating the fact he didn’t even have the strength to spit, he laid there thinking. ‘Four days,’ he had been the wanton whore of Tyre's little drug party. He held back a sob as he felt it, even now through the pain and his self revulsion, he needed. It seemed that once they were done, they left him. Tyre had left him on the floor like a broken and forgotten toy. He felt something warm run across his nose, then his other cheek. He swiped at it, letting his hand drop heavily to the floor in front of him. He stared at it as he tried to bring his knees up to his chest, it was tears . . . blood tinged tears.
He was so close to letting go when he heard Tyre’s approach. Suddenly, chilled hands grabbed his hips and lifted them up, turning him on his side. He bucked weakly, a groan of pain slipping passed his lips when he felt the warm wet spot he had been lying in cooling on his backside.
Quin fought with Tyre as he tried to check, clean, staunch and treat what he could. Then he was rushing out again to return with another man. Quin clung to the covers as the man approached, sweat beaded on his brow as he shook from the chill. He feverishly looked from one man to the next. He thought that Tyre would have left him alone once he was done, not whore him out to someone until he died. He asked himself why couldn’t Tyre just let him bleed to death alone.
He tried to listen when he realized the two were talking, catching only ‘sterile’, ‘sedative’ and ‘unorthodox’ when he saw Tyre shaking his head no and telling the man that he was a user. Well it was more like he pointed to the little packet of blue powder on his bedside table. The man had nodded back and they were on him. Tyre flipped him onto his stomach and held his hands above his head as the man spread and bound his ankles to the bedposts then put a pillow beneath him so his butt was raised. Quin's struggles soon acquiesced to weak whimpers and then pained cries as a poignant antiseptic was used and he felt himself spread where it had been numb before. Quin’s screams of agony increased in volume as the man cleaned and stitched him up inside. Both men sighed in relief and tensed when Quin's cries abruptly died. Tyre felt the hands in his go limp, with worried eyes, he kept his eyes on Quin's red tear stained face and gathered some comfort from the erratic pulse he felt in the wrists he held.
For days, Tyre waited on him hand and foot, forced him to eat and drugged him up with Streamers when he couldn’t stand his pained moans or if Quin woke up screaming at night. Quin remained mostly unresponsive to him, except when Tyre’s hands lingered where he didn’t want to be touched, flinching away from it. As soon as he was able to move he started locking the door after Tyre left soup on his bedside table, then locking it thirty or so minutes before Tyre returned from ‘work’ at night. He didn't care if he didn't eat. He didn't want him to touch him.
Aside from that, there were no other marks on his face. The rest of his bruises and cuts, he could hide beneath his long sleeved shirt. He knew how odd it would seem for him to be wearing such warm clothing considering the weather controllers still had it set on hotter than hell out but he couldn’t stay here at night, not now that he was better. He had called in to work and found out that Tyre had called him out sick. He put his thoughts aside on when Tyre had done that and arranged to get some light work by doing inventory at night. It was cooler at night so his recuperating body wouldn’t suffer too badly from wearing thicker clothing. He knew he was a bit on the thin side after over a week of soft foods and soup but he would gain quickly once he got his appetite back, he had to. He needed to take care of some things.
He was almost to the door when he was accosted by Tyre. Quin was stunned into stillness by Tyre’s thanks to him and learned he was now his partner in the club he took over. Once he got over the initial shock, he tried to shove Tyre away only to have his path to door completely blocked. Tyre grabbed his arms making him grind his teeth in pain at the reawakening bruises on them. He was spun around and then pressed bodily by Tyre against the door.
Quin balled his fists at his sides. He wouldn’t let it happen again, but Tyre surprised him and whispered that the white-haired man insisted that someone as appealing as him work with Tyre to promote the club. Tyre told him that without him he wouldn’t have gotten the extra money or the owner to give him the club. He thanked him again. He handed him several vials of clear liquid. Quin eyed them as he rolled them over in his shaky hand and Tyre laughed as he pressed his hand closed around them. He told him there's no going back to weaker stuff and that Crystalis would make the world fall away. He then opened the door and walked with him to work.
That's how it always started with him. Unlike his comrades he liked to talk. Quin knew that was how the man had wormed his way into him with gentleness and words that the others who used him lacked. It made him unconsciously trust the man and crave the reprieve his company gave. Although it always came down to Duke taking or him servicing the man in some way, regardless of his refusal. Once Duke had his feel of, he would pet and cuddle with him afterwards. He told him he had staying power and that he was amazed that after a day of being with Harve, the worst of them, he would still go to work the following day.
Work, was all he had then. It was the only thing that grounded him and kept him sane. No matter how Quin had tried to get away, they got to him through the drugs. They would cut off his supply for however long it took for him to go to Tyre. Oh there were other dealers but they had someone watching their guinea pig and made sure that the dealer knew costs of selling to him. When Quin had no choice but to go to Tyre, Tyre would make sure that he overdosed, ensuring that he would be their willing whore.
He hated it.
He remembered how Tyre had looked when he showed up at the apartment that time, it was the last time they would trick him into being their fuck toy. He had walked home, naked. His hair was matted red and he was clutching a hairy, bloody mass in his hand. He realized that Tyre wasn’t paying attention, ‘Probably thinking about his turn with me tonight.’ Tyre’s smile confirmed Quin’s assumption and he was satisfied that the crazed look in his tinged hazel greens was shadowed by his unusually red bangs when his eyes met Tyre's brown. He watched as it registered to Tyre that he was standing naked before him and Quin’s grin grew as he saw Tyre's eyes trail down his form to settle on the hairy, blood clumped mass he clutched in his right hand. He watched as confusion clouded Tyre's face and as his scrutinizing eyes narrowed then widen at the string of blue and pink tissue peeking out from between his loosening fingers.
“I-I . . . " Quin's body trembled in shock, making him stutter. He swallowed watching Tyre's almond-shaped eyes follow the motion of his throat before he continued. "I-I told Harve I’m noone’s bitch.” Quin’s glossy eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled at Tyre’s horrified expression as his words sank in and he opened his hand to reveal the bloody mass of tissue and hair. He lifted his hand toward Tyre while Trye moved closer to gore in Quin's hand, drawn to it like a moth to a flame, fully aware of the danger he was in because his toy was now a killer. Quin petted it before he dropped it at Tyre's feet. Tyre blanched and stepped back as a testicle rolled free of the mass and left a red streak as it came toward him.
Quin closed the door and went to shower, leaving Tyre gasping for words.
The following day he was sent for and that night he learned the name of his other abuser, Boughs. Before he killed him, he learned from him that his abusers were not from L2 and that the last one colony bound was the woman, Lily.
Though, Quin would find out too late that Lily knew about his activities and had already sent a vid message to Duke's Sanc residence. She made sure she encoded the message because Duke had warned her of his relatives, particularly one oddly browed-blond, whose natural inquisitiveness led her to be a snoop in his affairs on more than one occasion.
Quin wasn't surprised when Lily sought him out. He had not heard the murders hit the news yet. He had been careless the first time with Harve but calculating the second time, so he thought he still had time. The moment he was seized by large men when he entered her suite and Lily, even though drugged, told him she didn’t want to die yet; he knew he'd lost his easy cover. She smiled prettily, her eyes wide and glossy as she gave him a quick peck on the lips. She waved her hand at her guards and told them to make him more malleable, so they roughed him up. She then had him stripped and tied to the bed. She caressed his bruised cheek as he turned his head away from her and whispered, "a good fuck poppet before you send me off."
She dismissed her guards. She told them they'd receive their last checks a week from that day and murmured to herself with a distant look in her eyes that she was tired of it all. She had one of the guards drag in a chest before he left and she scooped out of it a ball gag and was fastening it onto Quin while she gave him the names of their main suppliers and transferred one of her accounts to his name.
She told him she always looked after her special boys and she made him enjoy it as she used him. She described each toy in the chest and their use before she demonstrated on him. The few times he had been lucid around her told him that she had used them on him before. She was riding him when she decided she wanted to end it. She flipped them so that he was on top, untied his hands and let out an involuntary gasp when they flew to her neck. She had been expecting it. She liked experiencing asphyxia during sex but she couldn't stop her body from responding as she choked and grabbed a hold of his hands trying to pull them away from her throat.
Tears fell from his eyes as he gritted his teeth and tried to stay focused on strangling her and not the orgasm she was bringing him to. Her face showed her fear but she urged her body, made her legs hold her hips against him as she rocked them, her moist walls continued to work and caress his cock. Her fearful look melted into a pleased smile, even though she still choked, her hands ran up his arms before her eyes rolled back into her head and she arched up into him one final time.
Quin screamed as he followed her into orgasm, he released her neck and dropped his head to her shoulder as he came hard inside her. He shivered, the waves of pleasure still hitting him, weakening him as he pushed himself up and out of her. He peered over the folds of his arms to see her mouth frozen in her last pleasured moan, her eyes half open yet vacant and her body cooling beside him. He pulled the cover around himself and cried.
He smiled. He never would have thought he would’ve been this well off at twenty-four. Still, with his credits, he hadn’t been able to find Duke, and that first name was all he had to go on. Quin wasn’t going to give up though, after he watched Tyre die he was going to travel to Earth and track him down and hopefully have a pet to keep him company. He smiled, taking out his faithful dropper and watched the clear liquid move like oil inside. He thought of the teen who'd make a good pet before he frowned and took enough to silence the distressed yammering in the back of his head. He smiled at the silence and continued to create images of a prostrated, braided brunette in his mind.
Tbc...
Ok, the drug I concocted here is in two forms and three concentrations, starting from the lowest: Ice -a consumable powder, is sometimes referred as Streamers; Streamers- liquid form; Crystalis - the most concentrated liquid form of the substance, oily or viscous quality to it.
Shesh that was another hard one to write. I hope I got Quin’s state of mind across. What do you feel for him?
Thank you for the reviews and the other pilots will make their debut soon.
Warnings: descriptive content, angst, dark, gore, ncs mostly implied and other bad stuff, drug addiction/abuse, flash-backing, oh did I forget to mention death? See first chap for full spiel.
Pairings: . . .
Huggles reviewers. Feedback is appreciated.
---xXxXxXx--- means transition or scene change
Denial
by priscel
seven- urges
The dim street lights, reflected off his auburn hair as he ran his hands through it in hopes of easing his frustration. He strolled along the sidewalks of the industrial district, the eyes watching his movement increased the closer he got to the club - weighing and accessing what he carried of value and if he himself would be of value. His own darted to vacant windows of buildings, the quiet never bothered him, he knew what was there and loved to be apart of it. Even though a part of him cringed when darkness seemed to loom menacingly in the unlit spaces, as if waiting to touch him, lock him back away from the surface once again. He felt separate but aware; he had no control over the kiss and grope he willingly shared with one of hookers as he passed Broad. He watched them half-heartedly while flashes of a slender, black clad youth permeated his mind. His mind’s eye trailing along the youth’s contours; he was angular and all planes like any other boy. But he had hips not overly pronounced that leant curve to his tapering waist. He found any movement the youth's braided brownish, red-gold length to be seductive especially when it swung across that lithesome forms’ round ass.
He became thrilled at the thought of being able to play and run his hands through the mass that seemed almost sentient, alive. The part of him that desperately tried to stay on the surface balked and sicken with his growing interest in the teen he had tried so hard to keep himself away from. He would not voice his name, in fear of himself and the other images it would invoke. But it was too late for that now. His efforts to stop himself were all foiled by a few more droplets of that blissful liquid each day. The dominant part was free to do whatever he wished and the majority of that time was spent watching the boy and his family from a distance, noting his development as his lust grew and overrode the sane part that screamed and fought for some foothold on who he used to be. He was so tired of fighting, of trying to deny that it was him who had did that so long ago. He missed his family so much, but he wouldn’t risk his brothers more pain, give his mother more grief. He wouldn’t.
Before he knew it, he was walking passed the club to the apartments that the owner ran more like a hotel. He entered the three-story complex, nodded to the guard and receptionist at the desk and by-stepped a rutting couple making their way to a room nearby. He watched as he waited for the elevator with disinterested glossy eyes, trying to keep his thoughts on anything but Duo.
He found himself in the elevator, that feeling came again like he wasn’t really there just running on automatic. At the elevator’s stop, he was already swiping the back of his metal key through the hidden card port on the elevator panel. It was an ingenious idea, everyone would think it required a key card when in actuality it only used the key to his home. ‘Oh the things that money can buy.’ Pausing when he heard his voiced thought in duplicate, he shrugged off the strangeness and continued to walk down the short hallway, unlocking the door at the end to step inside a grand livingroom.
He was taken aback by the sheer space but his eyes took on a bored look as roved over his surroundings. In all his life he had never been in a place so big, but memory caught up to him, like it always did when he felt like he was outside his body and in no control, this was theirs. The entire third floor was his and Tyre’s apartment. He remembered when he was kicked out on the street by his mother; he had no place to go and wandered aimlessly until he got to the Park. He ended up sleeping on a bench, only to be awoken from a fitful doze by screams coming from a distant alley. He shivered but not from the fear that he could have been that unanswered plea for help or from the cold but from need, a hunger he couldn’t understand. He didn’t want food. He needed more Ice, the consumable powdered crystal form of Streamers. He went through his bag and pockets but there were no little packs of blue powdered bliss. He slowly realized that he’d left it at home. No. No, not his home. He didn’t have one anymore. Not after what he had done, what he still wanted to do. Time lapsed and he realized he was standing at Tyre’s door, his pained body wanting to collapse from the exertion of walking such a distance - Tyre lived in the middle class section of the colony, more than three miles from the Park.
Stepping away from the memory, Quin kicked off his shoes, threw his gray jack toward the couch. He looked up in time to see it sailing back over the couch to the floor, proceeded by a mumbled curse from the couches’ occupant. He walked over and picked it up before leaning on the couch to look down at the pale skinned man, his eyes trailed down - up passed his sunken cheeks to his black, sleep messed hair splayed on the pillow. The man was thin, too thin to be healthy and like most who used Streamers, slated to die soon from irreversible dehydration and heart failure.
He thought back to when he had found a customer of Tyre’s downstairs in the lobby trying desperately to get to him. He never made it. He knew the symptoms: loss of weight and color, atrophied muscles - eventual paralysis, and the final stages - violent arrhythmias, then a distinctive gasp (death’s toll) before the heart constricted into a knot of tense muscle and arrested. In some, it was said that the heart valves ruptured, leaving the knotted bloodless muscle surrounded by the pooling blood from the body.
Quin found himself smiling and hoping that the boy was a bleeder. He figured the boy must be in the final stages as he watched the boy blink twice more before his eyes remained open. He kneeled beside the boy and put his ear to his chest. He could hear and feel the violent thumping within and he sat up quickly when he felt more than he heard the boys pained gasp for air. He listened and watched, in sick fascination, as the gasp became a choked sound in the boys' throat which became more like a gurgle as the sound passed the boy’s thin slack lips while blood began to trickle from the corners of his mouth. Then Quin’s eyes flitted along twin trails of red to the boys' eyes. He moved closer to look into the sunken, dulling teal eyes and watched as they dilated. The boy moved no more. Quin stuck his hand beneath the boy’s shirt to feel the intense heat coming from the boys’ chest even through the thin hospital gown he wore beneath it. He pressed his hand into that heat, stopping when his hand became moist; ‘the boy was a bleeder.’
A grumble brought him back from his revere this time. He looked over the sleeping figure beneath him with the same fascination as he rested his head on his crossed arms and smiled. He knew he was dying, but Tyre would be dead long before him and he couldn’t die fast enough. A part of him wondered if that’s how Duo or Solo felt about him for what he had done to them.
He thought back to that day again, the day he had found himself at Tyre's door.
- - - xXxX (Flashback) XxXx- - -
Tyre answered the door with sleep mussed hair, eyeing his watch wearily then perking up at the sight of Quin, immediately grabbing his arm and pulling him in. Although Quin stiffened at the too familiar touches, he chalked it up to his friend being sleepy and was happy that Tyre cared enough to let him stay. Another plus was that he gave him Ice as reassurance that giving up the drugs and begging for forgiveness for whatever he had done wrong that him had gotten him thrown out.
Tyre made Ice readily available for Quin, the bright look in his eyes when he first saw his bedraggled, lost friend was replaced with a contemplative one. It was one clue of many he would miss in his need for those little blue, powdered crystals. Quin often caught himself, when dreams wouldn’t cease and he was forced to watch it - relive it all in livid detail while trapped in his body screaming for it to end, he stuffed himself with Ice. He had gotten used to it. So much so that he didn't notice the sharply sour yet bitter after taste of it when he caught himself putting it in his food and drink a few times so he could have it on his breaks from working in the scrap yard.
It wasn’t enough though.
The dreams still came and so did the memories. He moved to liquid Streamers, the dropper allowed him to put its concentrated form in his eyes. He was overdosing, he knew it and didn’t care. Apart of him just wanted to forget and the other part just wanted. He needed it so bad to drown out the memories, the shock that still ran through him from the muffled screams of Solo beneath him. He remembered how he shook when he woke to find Duo’s hair tie in his hand while he lay in a wet spot that was a mixture of blood and semen. He had tried to say it, to convince himself, that the blood was his own but all he had were some bruises none of which were bleeding heavily enough for the deep red smears he had seen. He shivered, feeling sick knowing he couldn’t deceive himself that the blood was Duo’s.
He spent days wallowing in self pity then rending himself numb with the Streamers Tyre supplied. A day later, he was grateful he still had his job. Mr. Schbeiker had asked what had happen with his mother, he muttered nothing and went back to work. After two months, the liquid drops made all his worries disappear. Every day before work he dosed up enough to last until he got back to Tyre’s. Today, he stood atop a pile of scrap, his gloved hands shifting through rubble, grumbling and tossing to his left rotten or rusted junk. Sweat beaded on his flexing swimmers’ frame and a thin line of sweat glisten off the tip of his nose as he worked loose sheets of metal. The jerking motion caused tufts of his sandy brown hair to peek out from under his gray bandanna. He paused, swaying slightly, the merciless heat aided by the simulated sun made him dizzy but he noticed others stilling in their tasks to take a breather like him, so he ignored the roil of his stomach that followed the dizziness.
He began to move to another pile when he tripped over a protruding piece of metal nearly going head first off the side of the pile. He took deep breaths to calm himself, then kneeled down and examined it. He squinted at the reflective surface and half laughed at his luck. It was a pressure valve, similar to the one Mr. Schbeiker needed for one of two broken cranes. Shit, if he could salvage it, it would lessen some of the handpicking they’ve been doing. The more he thought about it, he had just saved his boss a thousand in credits and import costs.
Hours later, his wife beater drooping with perspiration and showing off more of his well-muscled chest, he had worked half of it out. From what he could see, it was in damn good condition too. He was elated. His smiled crumbled when his vision doubled, his knees gave out and he fell to them around the valve. His head dropped, his teeth clicking as his chin hit his chest. He remained still for a while before uncontrollable tremors shook him. His knees hurt from their impact on the ridged parts, but that pain was drowned out by an overwhelming craving, need that made his chest tighten and made him grind his teeth.
“Hey Junior! You ok up there?” He could hear the cautious steps of the speaker, Ref, making his way up to him.
Quin pulled himself together enough to hide the pain in the lazy, tired smile he gave the man as he looked up from his position.
“Yea, Ref. The heat’s getting to me is all. I found this press-”
“Junior, you’re bleeding.” The man was suddenly kneeling before him and pressing a piece of cloth to his nose. Quin blinked, watching the man as he fused, forcing him to sit and checking his head for trauma. Ref treated him like a son and was his voice of reason when he worked sixteen hour days and got no real sleep.
“I’m ok. It’s just the heat.” He repeated taking the rag and squeezing his nose as he tilted his head back.
“I saw you fall.” Ref ran a hand over his bald brown head, shaking his head at the definite look in the boys' hazel eyes. “No, I don't want to hear it. Go on ahead home son. You’ve done enough for today.”
Quin's eyes widen then he shut them quickly and gasped silently behind the cloth from the pain that shot straight to his brain. “Puu-”
“No buts. Every day you’ve been out here for the passed TWO months. Even old men like me need a break. You’re too young to be working like that.”
“I kno. I ‘afta. Phip I ‘on’t ork-”
“No need, son.” Ref shook his head as if the motion alone would put a stop to Quin’s need to explain. “You’ll be fine if you take it slow for a little while. At least make sure you have a day off in every week you work. If you do that I won’t pester you. You got that JR?”
“Yea I ‘earya Ref.”
“Good. Now get. I’ll get one of the other boys to get that valve out. Good job son.” He punched Quin's shoulder lightly, rising to his feet and helping him to stand slowly.
“Th-thanks Ref.” Quin tried to keep his smile but the need was eating away at him, so it became a pained grimace instead.
He struggled to walk calmly out, waving bye to the concerned Mr. Schbeiker as he wondered if the nosebleed was really from the heat because he had never gotten one from coming down before. Further thoughts about it were pushed out of his head by a painful headache and the churn of his stomach. He stumbled, dropping the rag and started to run. He thought he had dosed up enough to last the whole day. He thought of the way he took the drug as medicinal, figuring out just how much was needed to kill the pain from the memories of the hurt he had caused his brothers that always came back like a jackhammer to his head when he didn't take enough. It had worked before. He had never fallen this hard. ‘That night in the park, it hadn’t hurt this much,’ he thought as the streets and cars he passed became a blur.
By the time he made it to the door, he was a quivering mass of need, the keys clinking loudly in his ears. He dropped and fumbled with them many times in his agitation. When he finally got the door open, he fell through and crawled over to his backpack propped up by the leather couch and rummaged for his plastic dropper. He pulled it out and gawked at it in shock. It was empty. It was full the last time he checked which had been right before he left, he was sure. He sucked on the tip but nothing came out. He knew it was pointless to look around the apartment for more because Tyre never kept any there.
He didn’t know how long he was sitting there staring blankly at the walls but he came out of it at the sound of the door opening. I don't remember closing the door, he thought listlessly. A weal smile came across his face when he saw Tyre walk and close the door behind him. Tyre looked down and lifted a brow in question. Early on, Tyre had refused him anymore handouts until he got paid. He didn’t understand why, especially when Tyre knew he was good for the creds. Tyre knew how much he made and since he’d been staying with Tyre he paid him extra, leaving himself with fifty or so creds. Quin swallowed hard when remembered Tyre's refusals as he strained to stand and approached him with knocking knees. They were the same height but he felt smaller for some reason.
“T-Ty, do you . . . do you have some on you. I-I know you said not until . . . b-but I mean I . . . Fuck. I need it badly. I think something’s wrong. I-I had some this mornin’ a-and . . . ” Quin bit down on his bottom lip and balled up his hands into fists hoping to stop his stutter and their shaking.
He glanced up to see Tyre shaking his head 'no' before he could get his mouth to work again, his hazel eyes widen in despair.
“I told you before, I need money. If I keep giving it to you on credit, you’ll think you can get it-”
'No! I've always paid. It was only that one time when Mom had put me out and I didn't have any cash on me.' He swallowed, his thoughts merging with his strained voice. “N-n-no I wouldn’t, Ty. Y-you know m-me. I p-p-promise you. Y-y-you . . . ”
Tyre shook his head again before he continued, “You’ll be like the other addicts and because you know me you’ll think you can get it like that all the time and . . . then you wouldn’t work and I’ll be in some deep shit because my supplies will be dropping because of you. ”
Quin closed his eyes as Tyre’s refusal was followed by more tremors of pain, which he had been fighting off to no avail. He bit down harder on his lip, hoping that buffering pain with more pain would help him think. It did to an extent. Quin didn’t know what he could give as collateral. He didn’t have anything of value. All his music equipment was at his mother's place.
“Hey don’t . . . ” Tyre grabbed his chin, the surprised action forced Quin to open his mouth, his lower lip slipping free of his punishing teeth to reveal a dark red sheen spreading across his trembling lips. “Don’t.”
Quin looked up, startled by the sudden soft intonation of Tyre’s voice. He was smiling at him. He took an unconscious step back, freeing his chin from Tyre’s hold. It was a predatory smile. He had never seen it on Tyre’s face before. It brought back a feeling he’d been having for a while but he kept ignoring. When he did remember, or aware enough of it it was more intense than the creeps that you get when you’re being watched and he felt it stronger whenever he took showers. Every time he would check the room thoroughly, the door was locked and there was always no one there. His legs threaten to give out on him, his fear and uncertainty about his friends' intentions was lost in another mind numbing wave of need and pain. Tyre grabbed his arm, steadying him and pulling him closer.
“... looking so pained . . . ” Tyre licked his lips and gave Quin an appraising look, Quin was still in his scraggily tank and covered in sweat with grit here and there. He moved in closer, breathing in Quin’s musky scent, peering into half-lidded, pained eyes that were now a darker brownish green. “I... I’ll help you. If, if you do some things for me. I-”
“Any- anything.” He answered quickly, his need-hazed mind clearing enough to feel his mouth move and hear the quiver in his voice as his mouth became dryer. He was painfully aware that the usual feeling of detachment that he always got from using the drug was long gone, the pain cementing him to his body to feel it all. Yet, he didn’t feel whole. A sense of loss also came over him; it felt like a part of him had gotten away, closed itself off in the absence of the drug.
Then he heard his words too late. He wanted to yell at himself for letting his mouth run without thinking. The pleased look on Tyre’s face and his body language told him that he bartered to do more than washing dishes or cooking; Tyre’s dark eyes had a lustful gleam to them. He knew then he had bartered a sexual favor for a few more doses. He always knew that Tyre was interested in him and he had told him he didn’t swing that way and had nothing against Tyre being that way. His memories of his brothers pained expression flitted across his mind when he told him this but the drug made those memories blissfully dull, numb. He didn’t know what he felt about the sneer Tyre was sending his way but for the moment his preferences weren’t going to get him what he needed, it didn’t matter anymore. He began to psyche himself out, he could do a hand job, he would just imagine he was masturbating. ‘Yea.’ He decided he’d imagine that he was touching himself with thoughts of a very topless Kayla before him. ‘But what if he wanted more than that?’ He asked himself, holding back his shiver. He didn’t think he could screw Tyre, he wasn’t strong enough to do him doggy style . . . swallowing the nauseous feeling that took him. He thought doggy style would be the only he'd be able to do it and delude himself that Tyre wasn't male . . . blocking the sight of his flat chest and protruding member.
‘May-maybe a blow job,’ he voiced mentally, an echo of the quivering one he had spoken with before. He knew he was desperate. He tried to swallow the lump that lodged itself in his throat again, Kayla had done that for him enough times that he could try it and he’d be damned if he swallowed!
He held out his hand thinking that Tyre would let him dose up before he did his part. Tyre just smiled again and took his hand, pulling him toward his room. A sense of foreboding came over him as he was pulled to Tyre’s room. His legs stop working, causing Trye to tug on his arm to continue their forward motion. Quin tried to pull away but Tyre grabbed both of his arms, just below his elbows and all but carted him into the room. Quin could feel his uneasiness mounting over the constant pain. He didn’t want to do it, he wanted to leave and tell him to go fuck himself, but everything had a price and if he had gone back out there to the streets he knew the payment would’ve been worse. Being used by a friend was safer right? In resignation, he stopped resisting when the stray thought of asking Ref for some creds came to him but that had given Tyre all the time he needed. Quin found himself standing near the dresser furthest from the door when he heard the door shut and the lock click.
‘Why was he locking the door?’
“T-Ty, why di-did you lock it? I-I know where . . . creds. Yea. I-I can go get som-”
“Shhh. This is fine.”
With a pained whimper, Quin started to kneel before Tyre but he was stopped when Tyre caught his chin and tilted his head up, running his thumb over his lips, smearing the blood across them before crushing them with his own. Tyre took his payment in relish, invading his mouth, swallowing Quin’s attempts to breathe before he took his body.
xXxXx
The next thing Quin was aware of was the musky heat at his back moving away and something hot sliding out of him, leaving deep-seated pain in its wake. The tight grip on his hands was loosening as the bed dipped, then they let him go completely to bounce lightly on the stained sheets.Semiconscious, he laid there limp, thinking that he had never done the things Tyre had done to him to Duo or Solo. He wondered if this was some sort of retribution for what he had done to them, but thought it mostly carelessness on his part because he knew that Tyre watched him at school and always made sure he could leave with him after. The one word that best describes Tyre in his mind was obsessed. When he got his job, he had cut back his use of the blue crystals after what had happen with Duo. Tyre demanded reasons as to why he was cutting back, why he wasn’t coming to see him anymore. He simply told him personal reasons and Tyre stopped hanging around him as much, becoming distant and volatile. He brought him things and so did Kayla because he would forget to pack lunches. So he was always hungry and they brought plenty of food and he was more than happy to accept it. He realized too late that Tyre had been lacing his food with liquid Streamers. After he found out, he tried to stop using it but it hurt too much to stop. He started not to care as long as he got more of it. He ended up buying more of Ice, just upping the amount he took. He became paranoid and made sure his Mother didn’t notice his lack of sleep or avoided answering her questions when he’d go out at night to follow Tyre.
His need for the drug blinded him to all this as he laid there in pain. He came back to himself to wonder if what he was feeling now - disgusted, filthy, ashamed and other things he couldn’t name - if this was what they had felt when he hurt them as everything greyed out.
xXxXx
He came to, shaking, still naked and covered in fluids as Tyre hauled him up by his hair off the bed and half-dragged him into the bathroom telling him to get cleaned up. He eventually found himself on the shower floor, mesmerized by the hot spray of water, ‘real water . . . only the rich,’ he thought, no matter how many times he showered the water still amazed him. He curled up on the shower floor as his stomach twisted up inside. His mind became blank as he vomited what Tyre had made him swallow and passed out next to the putrid goo as the water washed it away.xXxXx
He awoke at the feel of being moved. His eyes snapped open in alarm and his hands tried to brace his fall when he was dumped in the middle of the livingroom floor. The muscles in his thighs bunched in pain at the impact and his hand went to rub the pain away to encounter his bare, wet skin and a towel tied loosely around his waist. He rose up baring his weight on his wobbling forearms as he panted, trying not to pass out from the pain in his ass. After what seemed like forever, through his own panting and the continuous throb in his head, he could hear something filtering through it all. He could hear voices - Tyre’s and at least one was a woman. He lifted his heavy head to look up through his soaked, matted fringe to see four people. A few minutes later, he recognized them as Tyre’s ‘business associates,’ that was what Tyre had told him when he came back early from work one day and was shooed out the room because they were in a deep discussion. He felt their eyes on him then as he did now, watching him, examining him. He shivered. The one woman of the group, early forties, was a pretty blond and seemed so meek that no one would have suspected her of anything like this.The oldest was a man with stark white hair, his beard and mustache grayish in comparison was stylishly cut to break at the line of his thin pale lips. He sat in a black tweed suit, his black felt hat in his lap with one white gloved hand toying with the feather in its brim. Quin was struck by the man’s face, he seemed almost kind with his soft features, prominent cheekbones and aristocrat flare but when he smiled . . . Quin couldn’t stop the shudder that went through him, there was something else there in that smile. Before he could get a good look at the other two guys, Tyre came over to him and pulled his head back so that he was up on one foot with his one knee on the floor. A hmm of appreciation and a draft was his only indication that Tyre was displaying him.
“Your entertainment lady and sirs.” Quin squeezed his eyes shut, both his hands holding onto the hand pulling his hair. He could feel the flush of embarrassment darkening his cheeks.
When he heard movement, he froze. Then, he groaned wondering why they wouldn’t just let him die or sleep or something, he felt so tired. Even wrecked with pain, he had fought Tyre the entire time he used him; bit him back when he could, and when he could do nothing else but feel Trye above him the pain from his withdrawal gave him something else to focus on until Tyre caused greater pain. He huffed mentally, ‘This was why he was being careful,’ before he could close his legs, the towel was ripped away, his legs held apart and then the hand in his hair was gone, replaced by several other hands, one gripped tightly around his throat keeping him in a kneeling position as another pinched his nose shut.
“Oh Duky, I didn’t really believe Tyre would give us this young man. He seemed rather . . . ” The woman glanced over at the white-haired man as he approached and her contentment was clearly seen across her face as she touched Quin’s chest and pinched his nipples. “...attached to him. I wouldn’t blame him. Such a pretty boy. Although, Tyre, I didn’t think you would get him to agree to use Crystalis?”
“Lily please. He’s an addict. He came begging for more and willing to do any thing for it. I’ve been giving him samples of it, weaning him off Streamers original by upping the concentration in his dropper little by little and taking some back when he wasn’t looking. The clear liquid didn't alter the dark blue color of the original. It was so easy.” Tyre said dispassionately, hoping that the monotone drawl in his voice was enough to hide how he really felt. He couldn’t help the small smile that crept at the corners of his mouth as he watched Quin struggled and defiantly keep his mouth shut and his eyes closed despite Lily’s . . . stimulating touches. He frowned inwardly when he noticed Quin’s flushed face darkening in hues and his chest heaved in its demand for air.
“Perhaps I should thank you, even though you were reluctant to give me his work address. I could have simply had the boy brought to me but your betrayal to him makes this so much the sweeter.” The cultured voice of the white-haired man boomed in Quin’s ear, over the ringing that was already there and his struggle to not give in.
“He’s a stubborn thing and he can hardly move . . . ” Duke peered up at Tyre from his position behind Quin, smiling when he saw Tyre’s jaw clenched, tightening his smile and the hand at his side fist as he ran his hand along Quin’s back and lower. “... still so stubborn, even after you had a go at him, hm? Tsk Tsk and he wants to refuse to give us a bite. The shame!” He said with a theatrical flare that had his acquaintances laughing, while Lily continued to entertain herself with Quin’s body.
“Shame on you Quin. Trying to make yourself pass out so you miss this whole experience. I highly doubt that you can do that, there are ways of waking you up, boy. You don’t want to miss the fun. No, we . . . ” His eyes watched Tyre as his hand moved between Quin’s legs, “can’t have that,” he squeezed Quin’s balls viciously. Quin gave a strangled scream, his panicked almost hazel eyes snapped open and swivelling to Tyre, “ . . . now can we?”
Pain. Quin struggled to close his legs again. His hands drifted down from his neck, releasing the hand at his throat for want of removing the rough hand that kept his balls from shriveling up and trying to crawl up inside his body. But each time he was about to grab for the hand in between his legs, a sudden jerk or pull had his hands going back to claw at and fend off the groping hands and biting teeth. Tears leaked down the sided of his face as he held eye contact with the one person he feebly hoped would put an end to it. He shuddered, panting out his anguish as Tyre gave him a remorseful look. Hope flared in his chest at that look.
“No we can’t.” Came the cold and lustful reply that killed hope quicker than Quin had felt it bloom in his chest.
And Quin deflated with it. Although he continued to combat the people holding him, he seemed to hang in their grip. Tyre put his emotions aside quickly and poured the shot glass of Crystalis into Quin’s mouth. Quin choked and tried to spit it out but a mouth covered his, forcing him to close it against the probing tongue that soon followed.
“Aww come on Poppet, don’t spoil the party. He’s your partner Tyre, he has to participate, get him to.” She whined and turned her glossy eyes to Tyre briefly before returning to Quin trying to get him to give her an open mouth kiss.
“Quin.” Duke stated, running his hand through Lily's shoulder length hair, some silent communication passed between them and she mouthed the abused youth's name, moving closer to him.
Duke smiled as Tyre let his startled expression slip from beneath the lust he had been showing them when they used Quin’s name. He had thought he had been careful not to mention his name.
“Quinny. Quinny. Can’t you taste it? Doesn’t it make you feel good? Don’t hog it all, it’s not fair to the rest of us. Give us a kiss.” Lily crooned after releasing his lips only to cover them with her own again. Quin fell back into the arms of his tormentor, gulping for air through his nose when he managed to free it from the hand that held it. The pain made him tremble and he was barely aware that the hand still holding his balls began to roll them. He tried to turn his head away from Lily who lapped at the corners of his mouth where the drug he hadn’t swallowed dripped as she pushed herself up against him.
Tyre, gritted his teeth as he watched Lily lick Quin’s lips again then nip her way down his jaw to his neck where she suckled his adam’s apple. Duke became impatient and knew how Lily was an adamant contender that she didn’t sell what she didn’t try, but he really didn’t care what she wanted, he wanted to see the effects of Crystalis before he went to Earth. The boy had already become slack in his arms, but he wanted to be sure that he swallowed it all and wasn’t just holding it in his mouth. He was about to inflict more pain when Quin arched up into Lily, a moan slipping passed his lips. Lily locked lips with him immediately, moaning into his mouth. Duke smiled, that was one of the immediate side effects of Crystalis.
Tyre watched. His groin tighten at Quin’s wanton display as he eagerly let them do whatever they wanted, obeyed their commands without resistance, took more of the drug glutenously and cried out in pleasure at his own pain. After some taunts from Lily around her mouthful of Quin and questions from Duke as to how Tyre had rode him as he focused on doing that himself, he joined in, trying to get as much of Quin away from them so they would preoccupy themselves with each other.
xXxXx
Quin came to in the middle of the living room floor. The familiar position left him grasping for memories that evaded his waking mind. He tried to move but he was sluggish, his body felt like it was full of lead and didn’t react when he willed it to move. Then he could feel. He was a mess of aches, sharp pricks of pain, blood and then he noticed he was wet . . . he was covered in gunk he couldn’t determine. He didn’t want to think about what it was. After sometime, he got up to his knees. They were wobbling beneath him as he straighten up using the coffee table when vertigo swept through him. He fell forward onto the low table and then slid down it so that he sat on his knees when he lost consciousness.xXxXx
He woke again, this time to a squishy feeling and a tingling numbness in and between his legs. It was a strange feeling and roused him completely with the need to move. Images, fragments of memory assaulted him as he became more aware of himself - memories of being pounded into and in many being used by all of them at once. He wasn’t sure if he had anything to vomit up but that didn't stop his body from dry heaving.He felt empty inside.
He needed to know the day. ‘It’s still daylight,’ he thought, ‘maybe early morning.’ He decided against walking and got his legs to stop wobbling long enough for him to crawl to the TV and read the date as the newscasters began their opening report.
He read the date several times. At that moment, the newscaster's report the happenings around L2 went unheard, the date was the only thing visible to him. His mind couldn’t comprehend no matter how many times he did the numbers. He didn't want to accept that so much time had passed . . . it had been four days.
His knees buckled under him and he fell sideways, his naked side making a wet smack against the floor. He cringed and gritted his teeth as the impact sent waves of pain crashing through his body. He wrapped an arm around his middle, wincing as he tried to curl up into a fetal ball but eventually he settled for lying still on the floor.
Choking on the foul taste in his mouth and hating the fact he didn’t even have the strength to spit, he laid there thinking. ‘Four days,’ he had been the wanton whore of Tyre's little drug party. He held back a sob as he felt it, even now through the pain and his self revulsion, he needed. It seemed that once they were done, they left him. Tyre had left him on the floor like a broken and forgotten toy. He felt something warm run across his nose, then his other cheek. He swiped at it, letting his hand drop heavily to the floor in front of him. He stared at it as he tried to bring his knees up to his chest, it was tears . . . blood tinged tears.
xXxXx
Somehow he made it to his room, leaving a bloody trail behind him. The tears had stopped by the time he got into his bed. The next thing he was aware of was the loud boom of the door to his room being thrown open and his blanket ripped away from him. Tyre was there and his face was contorted in so many expressions that Quin’s pain idled mind couldn’t focus on any one expression long enough to sort them all. But the dominant expression that consumed Tyre's high cheek boned face was fear and what could have been regret. It didn't matter now. He felt the darkness at the edges of his mind calling, offering the comfort of unconsciousness. He closed his half lidded eyes and turned his head away from him.He was so close to letting go when he heard Tyre’s approach. Suddenly, chilled hands grabbed his hips and lifted them up, turning him on his side. He bucked weakly, a groan of pain slipping passed his lips when he felt the warm wet spot he had been lying in cooling on his backside.
Quin fought with Tyre as he tried to check, clean, staunch and treat what he could. Then he was rushing out again to return with another man. Quin clung to the covers as the man approached, sweat beaded on his brow as he shook from the chill. He feverishly looked from one man to the next. He thought that Tyre would have left him alone once he was done, not whore him out to someone until he died. He asked himself why couldn’t Tyre just let him bleed to death alone.
He tried to listen when he realized the two were talking, catching only ‘sterile’, ‘sedative’ and ‘unorthodox’ when he saw Tyre shaking his head no and telling the man that he was a user. Well it was more like he pointed to the little packet of blue powder on his bedside table. The man had nodded back and they were on him. Tyre flipped him onto his stomach and held his hands above his head as the man spread and bound his ankles to the bedposts then put a pillow beneath him so his butt was raised. Quin's struggles soon acquiesced to weak whimpers and then pained cries as a poignant antiseptic was used and he felt himself spread where it had been numb before. Quin’s screams of agony increased in volume as the man cleaned and stitched him up inside. Both men sighed in relief and tensed when Quin's cries abruptly died. Tyre felt the hands in his go limp, with worried eyes, he kept his eyes on Quin's red tear stained face and gathered some comfort from the erratic pulse he felt in the wrists he held.
For days, Tyre waited on him hand and foot, forced him to eat and drugged him up with Streamers when he couldn’t stand his pained moans or if Quin woke up screaming at night. Quin remained mostly unresponsive to him, except when Tyre’s hands lingered where he didn’t want to be touched, flinching away from it. As soon as he was able to move he started locking the door after Tyre left soup on his bedside table, then locking it thirty or so minutes before Tyre returned from ‘work’ at night. He didn't care if he didn't eat. He didn't want him to touch him.
xXxXx
Over a week later, he stopped locking himself in his room and got dressed for work. He looked at himself in the mirror, tracing the reflection of his bow shaped lips. They were bruised in such a way that they were a deep red and he idly thought of a similar color of lipstick that Kayla wore occasionally. He didn’t know anyone with lips that were naturally that red. ‘Did they make a concealer for lips?’ Kayla would know, he thought about calling her but his voice was very scratchy at best, his throat was still sore for a variety of reasons he wouldn’t put to thought. He followed the line of his nose in his reflection and settled on his eyes, they were not the color they were before. They both held a yellow tint in the irises, it bothered him and always brought him to an abrupt stop when he passed the bathroom mirror. He would start to question who it was he saw there but then turn away.Aside from that, there were no other marks on his face. The rest of his bruises and cuts, he could hide beneath his long sleeved shirt. He knew how odd it would seem for him to be wearing such warm clothing considering the weather controllers still had it set on hotter than hell out but he couldn’t stay here at night, not now that he was better. He had called in to work and found out that Tyre had called him out sick. He put his thoughts aside on when Tyre had done that and arranged to get some light work by doing inventory at night. It was cooler at night so his recuperating body wouldn’t suffer too badly from wearing thicker clothing. He knew he was a bit on the thin side after over a week of soft foods and soup but he would gain quickly once he got his appetite back, he had to. He needed to take care of some things.
He was almost to the door when he was accosted by Tyre. Quin was stunned into stillness by Tyre’s thanks to him and learned he was now his partner in the club he took over. Once he got over the initial shock, he tried to shove Tyre away only to have his path to door completely blocked. Tyre grabbed his arms making him grind his teeth in pain at the reawakening bruises on them. He was spun around and then pressed bodily by Tyre against the door.
Quin balled his fists at his sides. He wouldn’t let it happen again, but Tyre surprised him and whispered that the white-haired man insisted that someone as appealing as him work with Tyre to promote the club. Tyre told him that without him he wouldn’t have gotten the extra money or the owner to give him the club. He thanked him again. He handed him several vials of clear liquid. Quin eyed them as he rolled them over in his shaky hand and Tyre laughed as he pressed his hand closed around them. He told him there's no going back to weaker stuff and that Crystalis would make the world fall away. He then opened the door and walked with him to work.
xXxXx
Despite his promise to himself, he was abused countless times in the following months by Tyre and his colleagues. Some partnership. When he found himself with Duke, the man would be sitting in a cushioned, high back chair watching the simulated fire flicker in the fireplace. Often he had him laid across a low sofa, covered in a thin sheet until the detached feeling Quin got from the drugs began to wane. Duke had told him once that he was amazed, how out of all the others that they overdosed on any form of Streamers or introduced to its most potent form - Crystalis - to, he continued to live.That's how it always started with him. Unlike his comrades he liked to talk. Quin knew that was how the man had wormed his way into him with gentleness and words that the others who used him lacked. It made him unconsciously trust the man and crave the reprieve his company gave. Although it always came down to Duke taking or him servicing the man in some way, regardless of his refusal. Once Duke had his feel of, he would pet and cuddle with him afterwards. He told him he had staying power and that he was amazed that after a day of being with Harve, the worst of them, he would still go to work the following day.
Work, was all he had then. It was the only thing that grounded him and kept him sane. No matter how Quin had tried to get away, they got to him through the drugs. They would cut off his supply for however long it took for him to go to Tyre. Oh there were other dealers but they had someone watching their guinea pig and made sure that the dealer knew costs of selling to him. When Quin had no choice but to go to Tyre, Tyre would make sure that he overdosed, ensuring that he would be their willing whore.
He hated it.
He remembered how Tyre had looked when he showed up at the apartment that time, it was the last time they would trick him into being their fuck toy. He had walked home, naked. His hair was matted red and he was clutching a hairy, bloody mass in his hand. He realized that Tyre wasn’t paying attention, ‘Probably thinking about his turn with me tonight.’ Tyre’s smile confirmed Quin’s assumption and he was satisfied that the crazed look in his tinged hazel greens was shadowed by his unusually red bangs when his eyes met Tyre's brown. He watched as it registered to Tyre that he was standing naked before him and Quin’s grin grew as he saw Tyre's eyes trail down his form to settle on the hairy, blood clumped mass he clutched in his right hand. He watched as confusion clouded Tyre's face and as his scrutinizing eyes narrowed then widen at the string of blue and pink tissue peeking out from between his loosening fingers.
“I-I . . . " Quin's body trembled in shock, making him stutter. He swallowed watching Tyre's almond-shaped eyes follow the motion of his throat before he continued. "I-I told Harve I’m noone’s bitch.” Quin’s glossy eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled at Tyre’s horrified expression as his words sank in and he opened his hand to reveal the bloody mass of tissue and hair. He lifted his hand toward Tyre while Trye moved closer to gore in Quin's hand, drawn to it like a moth to a flame, fully aware of the danger he was in because his toy was now a killer. Quin petted it before he dropped it at Tyre's feet. Tyre blanched and stepped back as a testicle rolled free of the mass and left a red streak as it came toward him.
Quin closed the door and went to shower, leaving Tyre gasping for words.
xXxXx
It all fell in place like clock work. His abusers usually spoke to each other at the end of the week, each making sure they had their turn before work called them away or the weekend came and always sent for him to be brought to them in a seedy, destitute area of the colony where his screams or pleas would go unnoticed by the multitude of others. He was glad that for his revenge, money wasn't going to be an issue. He had the money because of the tricks the bastards had used to get him into their beds. Tyre, was another matter. He knew how to keep him in check.The following day he was sent for and that night he learned the name of his other abuser, Boughs. Before he killed him, he learned from him that his abusers were not from L2 and that the last one colony bound was the woman, Lily.
Though, Quin would find out too late that Lily knew about his activities and had already sent a vid message to Duke's Sanc residence. She made sure she encoded the message because Duke had warned her of his relatives, particularly one oddly browed-blond, whose natural inquisitiveness led her to be a snoop in his affairs on more than one occasion.
Quin wasn't surprised when Lily sought him out. He had not heard the murders hit the news yet. He had been careless the first time with Harve but calculating the second time, so he thought he still had time. The moment he was seized by large men when he entered her suite and Lily, even though drugged, told him she didn’t want to die yet; he knew he'd lost his easy cover. She smiled prettily, her eyes wide and glossy as she gave him a quick peck on the lips. She waved her hand at her guards and told them to make him more malleable, so they roughed him up. She then had him stripped and tied to the bed. She caressed his bruised cheek as he turned his head away from her and whispered, "a good fuck poppet before you send me off."
She dismissed her guards. She told them they'd receive their last checks a week from that day and murmured to herself with a distant look in her eyes that she was tired of it all. She had one of the guards drag in a chest before he left and she scooped out of it a ball gag and was fastening it onto Quin while she gave him the names of their main suppliers and transferred one of her accounts to his name.
She told him she always looked after her special boys and she made him enjoy it as she used him. She described each toy in the chest and their use before she demonstrated on him. The few times he had been lucid around her told him that she had used them on him before. She was riding him when she decided she wanted to end it. She flipped them so that he was on top, untied his hands and let out an involuntary gasp when they flew to her neck. She had been expecting it. She liked experiencing asphyxia during sex but she couldn't stop her body from responding as she choked and grabbed a hold of his hands trying to pull them away from her throat.
Tears fell from his eyes as he gritted his teeth and tried to stay focused on strangling her and not the orgasm she was bringing him to. Her face showed her fear but she urged her body, made her legs hold her hips against him as she rocked them, her moist walls continued to work and caress his cock. Her fearful look melted into a pleased smile, even though she still choked, her hands ran up his arms before her eyes rolled back into her head and she arched up into him one final time.
Quin screamed as he followed her into orgasm, he released her neck and dropped his head to her shoulder as he came hard inside her. He shivered, the waves of pleasure still hitting him, weakening him as he pushed himself up and out of her. He peered over the folds of his arms to see her mouth frozen in her last pleasured moan, her eyes half open yet vacant and her body cooling beside him. He pulled the cover around himself and cried.
- - - xXxX (End Flashback) XxXx- - -
A fleeting feeling of sickness passed over him, bile lapped at the back of his throat as he opened his eyes to stare down in hate at the figure beneath him. Tyre’s fitfully sleeping form gave a pained moan and he thought it was fitting that he dies that way. Watching the once chiseled chest before him rise and fall with each labored breath, Quin idly played with the bracelet he took from Lily, and thought about all the money in the account she gave him. He didn't try to understand why she did what she did but the information she gave him was more than enough evidence to incriminate several high officials and their factions. It also showed that L2 was their testing ground, the numerous human guinea pigs and how their termination went unnoticed. Even after the Streamers threat was understood, no one noticed the untimely deaths of the poor, orphans or homeless people because more came to take their place.He smiled. He never would have thought he would’ve been this well off at twenty-four. Still, with his credits, he hadn’t been able to find Duke, and that first name was all he had to go on. Quin wasn’t going to give up though, after he watched Tyre die he was going to travel to Earth and track him down and hopefully have a pet to keep him company. He smiled, taking out his faithful dropper and watched the clear liquid move like oil inside. He thought of the teen who'd make a good pet before he frowned and took enough to silence the distressed yammering in the back of his head. He smiled at the silence and continued to create images of a prostrated, braided brunette in his mind.
Tbc...
Ok, the drug I concocted here is in two forms and three concentrations, starting from the lowest: Ice -a consumable powder, is sometimes referred as Streamers; Streamers- liquid form; Crystalis - the most concentrated liquid form of the substance, oily or viscous quality to it.
Shesh that was another hard one to write. I hope I got Quin’s state of mind across. What do you feel for him?
Thank you for the reviews and the other pilots will make their debut soon.