Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ What Music the Darkness Composes ❯ Chapter 1

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Malik has always been scared of the dark, and now, Mariku will make sure his fears are completely justified. Manga!Verse Warnings: slight gore, mind fuckery, and mutual rape

Anime/Manga: Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Horror | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 05.11.2008 | Pages: 5 | Words: 20.7K | Visits: 492 | Status: Completed

a break from Stalker, I wanted to write something that followed the manga timeline. The anime, I find, is a very poor and abridged version of the true plot, and of the character’s personalities. Mariku is much more malevolent, sadistic, and twisted. Yet, he has a sense of sanity to him, intelligence that isn’t seen in the anime. This fic was based on the quote of Malik’s where he said ‘No one fears the dark more than I do… Every night I go to sleep is pure terror.’ I wanted to play on this idea and delve into what exactly he might be so scared of.

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Gasping for breath, Malik ran, and wouldn’t stop. Through a black abyss, shapes came and morphed before his eyes, an invisible ground leading him to what he hoped to be safety. Pillar after pillar, it was his only way of gauging that he was making any progress, and wasn’t just running circles for his amusement. The only noise a soft ticking, and the sound of his shoes clanking against that invisible floor. He was so tired, how long had he been running? Could he judge time by how short of breath he was? Malik felt sick from the physical exertion, and his body ached because of it, not used to straining his muscles so much. Every step he took was a tick on a meter to collapsing, and Malik knew he had to stop soon, or he would have no energy if-…if… He didn’t want to think about it.

His eyes wide from fear, Malik continued to run, trying to find a good hiding place. But there was no where to hide. All above him and around him was just empty space, no top, no bottom, the only thing decorating his hell being rows upon rows of stone columns that stretched high, high up into the artificial sky. Like a tomb. Colors twisted and flowed around him, and it was always so surreal, creating shapes that fused together and formed something else. Mouths, eyes, organs…they formed all around him, and if Malik looked close enough, he could see blood dripping down what he imagined to be the walls of this place. Macabre, this was truly his creation.

Footsteps echoing around him, Malik cried out in relief when he found a particularly large pillar, knowing it was his best chance to hide behind it. Surely, it could conceal his body, right? …Right? Sprinting towards it, Malik lunged, scrabbling his way around it so that he sat in it’s shadow. Breathing erratic and his limbs shaking, Malik hyperventilated to tried and calm his breath. But he was terrified, and he couldn’t help it. He knew how it would end, how it always ended. Breath hitching up, Malik pulled his legs to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, trying to make himself as small as possible. Security.

“Have you given up, light?”

The voice twisted around him, and Malik felt it ghost over his skin, suffocating him. Clutching his hands to his head, Malik began to shake. Malik knew what terror was.

“How sad…you’ve never been so easy to break. Get up. Make it fun!” That cruel laughter… Malik sobbed. He didn’t want to be here!

“Make it fun for me, Malik! Just think of what I can do when I catch you…” Malik shuddered, the voice whispering in his head beginning to make him hysterical. He had to get away. Whatever he did, he had to get away. Malik had to save himself from his own demon.

“I’m going to mutilate you, Malik. I’m going to hold you down and cut you all up, and I’ll start with your back. I’m going to re-carve every. Single. One of the markings. Wouldn’t that be beautiful? It is what created me, after all. Think of it as a dedication to what brought me to you.” The voice grew louder, and Malik sobbed, fisting his hands into his hair and pulled, muffling the sound of his voice. He couldn’t give away his hiding place. And faintly, he could hear the clunking of boots against the floor, echoing around him, just like his voice had. Sound drifted through wave currents, but here, there were no laws of the world. What Mariku willed to happen, happened.

“Get up, Malik, run. Run for me, make this exciting. I can feel your fear, I can taste it, light. We are the same person, don’t think that I don’t know where you’re hiding. I can hear you breathing. In…out. Ah, it’s so heavy. Make it more erratic! Run for your life! I want to hear you gasping, your body begging you to give into me! Get up, run, run! I’m going to catch you in the end anyway. And if you don’t…” That horrible laughter followed when his voice trailed off. It rung throughout the world, warped, twisted, and it would not stop. Insanity.

Those footsteps were getting louder now, and Malik knew that he had to leave, that he had a better chance to run than to hide. But even then… he knew that he had no hope. In the end, if Mariku willed him to lose, he would. It would be better at least, to prolong the pain and torture, and so Malik shakily unfolded his legs and stood, clutching the pillar to help him up. Prolong the inevitable torture and…in the process, lengthen his own terror of the uncertainty of when he would be caught. Taking in large gulps of air to help himself for the exertion ahead of him, Malik was resigned to get away. He couldn’t just sit there, let his dark win, even if he always did. He was Malik Ishtar, the owner of Ra. He was the one in control. Filled with a sense of determination, Malik began to run, his feet heavy and his legs aching, but still, he ran.

“Good boy, light! Where will you go now? Take a left! A right! I’ll only find you in the end!”

“You won’t! Stop it, stop it!” He couldn’t take this anymore, his taunts, the way he played with his emotions, molding his mind the way he wanted it. Mariku was the puppeteer and Malik was the puppet.

“This is my body, I am the owner! Whatever I say will happen, will happen! You’d better start running faster, or I will make this world a complete hell.”

Malik’s legs were deadweights, and they pulled him down. Gravity was against him, and it pressed down him, shoving, invisible hands trying to stop him. But Malik would not get up, and when those hands turned from figurative to physical, Malik cried out and scrabbled on the floor where he had fallen. He tried to crawl, the animalistic part of brain telling him to keep moving, to keep going and save himself, no matter what the cost, but those hands pulled him back, and there were so many of them. They groped around his body, touching and pulling him down when he tried to stand, and Malik was left with only his arms, the hands having taken his legs hostage. Struggling to pull himself forward, Malik contemplated giving up, just ending it all, and letting Mariku take his body. Anything had to be better than the hell he was forced to endure every night, what he put him through…

“Is that it? You’re just going to give up?!” The voice in his head was cruel, and he could hear a snarl. Malik squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore the hands as they continued to jerk on him and pull him back. Those hands were his dark’s creation, and he contradicted himself. He was the one who had made those hands appear and impair his attempts to escape, to run, and yet, he wanted him to keep on trying to save himself. It was sick, sadistic, and Malik knew that he loved it. “If you don’t want to try and get away anymore…I’ll show you what will happen if you don’t.”

Laughter, and then his world was black. Complete darkness, and everything was gone. The pillars, the shapes, the hands, and his ability to feel. There was nothing, nothing at all, and Malik couldn’t even see himself, couldn’t feel himself when he reached a hand up to touch his face. Or at least, he thought he did. A sudden horror ate at him then, terror building up in his stomach when he twisted around, eyes searching desperately for any kind of light. This was fear, this was hell. The terror of having nothing, being nothing in a universe that didn’t even exist. Darkness. Darkness was the universe he had been forced into. And then out of the abyss came the warped sound of his dark’s laughter. It sounded like it had been put through a filter as it drifted through the empty space. At times, it would grow loud, and the pitch would drop before changing to screeching and soft. The only thing that was real in his universe, Malik closed his eyes and concentrated on his sound. At least with his eyes closed, the blackness there was created out of his own will.

And then suddenly, there was a whirring noise, and Malik felt his stomach drop, like he was falling rapidly down to earth. Gravity pulling him like it had before, Malik screamed, flailing wildly as he tried to grab something, anything to save himself. But…was he really falling? All he knew was the sensation, but he could see nothing. His vision did not change, and could still only see the black in front of him. For an eternity, he seemed to fall, and it was starting to effect him physically. He felt sick, and he wanted to throw up, but he knew that here, he couldn’t. Then just as suddenly as it came, it stopped, that feeling of falling, and Malik’s body landed with a thud, on what, he couldn’t see or tell.

Laying still, Malik was too tired to move, his fall taking what little bit of energy he had left from him. Moving his hand along what he thought was the ground, he noticed it was cool. There was air, now, too, stuffy and humid. Moving his fingers again, the ground now had a texture, little bits of the blackness rolling between his digits, almost like sand. Scared to open his eyes, Malik stayed like that for a long time and just listened to the sound of his breathing. He knew that his dark would take him back to the tomb he had been earlier, but didn’t know when, or why he was now in this new place.

“Do you remember, this, Malik? Can you remember without opening your eyes?” His voice drifted towards him, sliding over his skin, and Malik shuddered. He was still here… Malik was silent, and he heard his dark ‘humph’ at him, but at least he was safe for now. In this part of Mariku’s world, he could not hurt him. …With his own hands, anyway.

“No? Then maybe this will make you remember.”

Uneasy at his ominous words, Malik made a move to sit up and turn around, but was shoved back down into the floor when he did so. Scared at what was happening, Malik tried to scramble away, but found he couldn’t. The floor turned from sand textured to smooth and cold, and Malik couldn’t move his arms. It was almost as if he was tied down onto a table… And then he knew. What Mariku would do to him…there couldn’t be anything more sadistic or terrifying. He was going to put him through his initiation again.

Jerking on his restraints, Malik sobbed when he felt a hand on his back, his shirt now gone, and something cool set down in the middle of his skin near his spine. The person, the phantom, the result of what Mariku constructed said nothing when he screamed, begging to be let go. That cool thing on his back moved, and Malik froze up, terrified of it’s sharp point. A knife.

“M-Mariku!” He couldn’t let his dark win, he couldn’t just give up! But he didn’t ever, ever want to go through what Mariku planned to do with him again. Anything would be better than that. Even sacrificing his body up for the cost. Numbness was better than pain. “Mariku!” Screaming when that knife slowly, agonizingly slowly began to push down and break his skin, Malik begged for his dark. “Mariku, stop, stop, stop! Make it stop! You win, you win!”

“Did I ever say this was about winning or loosing?” Mariku’s voice rang out and echoed off what Malik guessed were the walls to this tomb, but he didn’t want to open his eyes to check. “I told you to run, that’s what I wanted. I want to feel your fear, every inch of it. Hate me, please! But I’m not going to stop. Give up, and let me hear your screams.” Horror washing over him, Malik knew that he was telling the truth, and he sobbed to be released over and over. But just as he said, Mariku ignored him, and with a silent command, Mariku’s creation that held the knife slowly began to cut his skin.

It burned, like nothing else he had ever felt, his back on fire as every one of his tattoos were retraced. The knife dug into his skin, and he could feel the blood drip down his sides, slicing him open, running the blade through his skin and tissue. Whatever was conducting the horrible pain Malik felt was sloppy, and more than once, it hit a nerve or muscle. From the beginning, Malik had begun to scream, shrieking from pain and terror, and his voice only got louder when this happened. Excruciating pain was his entire world, and Malik refused to open his eyes. But without his eyes open, the feelings were only intensified. Without warning then, all calmness from the holder of the knife was gone, and the slow cuts were replaced with wild slashes across his back.

Malik screamed, his throat hoarse, but couldn’t keep the vocalation that bubbled up from his throat and poured out his mouth. It hurt so bad, so, so, so bad! His back was being torn to shreds, and he could almost feel pieces of skin and flesh being torn off. Blood no longer came in shortages as it poured down his sides, making the table slick. And Malik had to get away. Continuing to yell and shriek, even through all of the pain and torture, Malik refused to cry. He would not give Mariku the satisfaction of that. He was Malik Ishtar. He would not cry.

The pain was overwhelming, and he knew that he would pass out soon from blood loss. Becoming desperate, Malik struggled through the haze of torture as the thing continued to hack away at him. He had to get away he had to get away he had to get away hehadtogetawayhehadto! Feeling his torso slide a little along the table when he tried to move his body forward with his toes, Malik’s mind clicked. Begging to whatever god was listening to him, begging that he would be forgiven for his mother’s death, and return, be saved from hell, Malik jerked his wrist as hard as he could in it’s restraints. It was odd, how he could be in so much agony, and yet, still feel the pain of when he twisted his wrist in the rope, making it grind over his skin. And as his torment grew greater, so did his desperation. Holding back all fear, Malik jerked as hard as he could, and to his overwhelming relief, the rope gave a little slack. Rubbing his wrists into a puddle of his own blood, he used it as lubricant to finally pull his wrist out of it’s bind. It was a sickening thought, using his own blood for lubricant, but…it had to be done. Malik had no choice.

Whatever was cutting him paid no attention to his ministrations, and with renewed determination, Malik reached over to pull his other wrist out, and sobbed when it would not budge. Knowing the only way to save himself, Malik smeared his hand into the same puddle of blood and worked quickly at his other wrist. Giving one last final howl of pain, his wrist came free. And then it was all gone. The pain, the sound of his own screaming, the blood around him, the ropes around his ankles, the knife, the sound of his skin being torn, and that thick, heavy air.

Feeling truly numb, Malik gasped his breath in and out, continuing to shake, the fear the only thing that continued to stay. His mind was hysterical, still living through what had just happened, and begun to hyperventilate. It had all been so real… But so was everything in this world. Tremors not receding, Malik slowly calmed after a long while, gulping in air, still to scared to open his eyes. H-he had thought that he would die there…

“It’s amazing what the psyche can imagine under the right circumstances.” The voice was physical now, and Malik’s heart was gripped with new fear. “Or maybe, you didn’t imagine it at all. Your fear was real, Malik. I could feel it. Open your eyes. I want to see the terror in them.” It was a command, and Malik knew what would happen if he didn’t comply. But did it really even matter anymore…? Slowly, he did as he was told, and opened his eyes, his vision blurry at first but cleared up after a while.

The abyss was no longer that of blackness, twisting colors and columns, or the tomb where he had grown up. Now, it was all gold. Gold walls, gold floor, and a gold ceiling, giving off a distinct feeling of claustrophobia. But like with everything that Mariku created, it was bathed in blood. Literally. It dripped down the walls out of the cracks between the gold slabs, and it pooled on the ground. Red and Gold. They contrasted each other greatly, and Malik felt, once again, sick at the sight of it. He had had enough of blood… And sitting in the center of this new universe was his dark. Upon a throne, he stared down at him, purple cloak draped over his shoulders, the bottom of it rippled down onto the blood covered floor, the red leaking into the purple, melding together until the colors were undistinguishable from each other. His presence, like always, was domineering. His expression, like always, was cold, hard, and the faint trace of amusement graced his lips. His being, like always, made Malik’s blood run cold.

Mariku smiled when their eyes met, showing teeth, and Malik shuddered. “Oh, that’s good… keep looking like that, light. It shows you as what you truly are. Pathetic. A dog scared of the punishment it will receive from its master.” Mariku put emphasis on the last word, and Malik gulped, terror building in his stomach. He had to get away… “It’s over, Malik. It was fun while it lasted, and believe me, you did make things interesting in the end. I congratulate you on escaping from the ropes. Really, I was surprised that you had the backbone to do it. Can you do it again, my light? The night has only just started!” Mariku laughed, his eyes showing the insanity that hid behind him, and Malik despaired. He had created this… this person, this other part of himself…and it would be him that would kill him in the end.

Laughter dying down to a light chuckle, Mariku’s eyes flicked downward with such hate that Malik physically flinched back. Revulsion spinning in his head when his hand landed in a puddle of blood, Malik coughed sharply, bringing a hand to his mouth, fearful that the building sickness inside of him would ignore the rules of this world. Laughing at his fear, Mariku grinned down at him, his smile twisted, like always, a warping reality swirling around him. Despite the realness of the situation and ignoring what might happen to him because of it, Malik glared up at him when he did this. “What’s the matter, light? Don’t you like the way I treat you? I treat you better than how you treated me in the beginning. Don’t you remember?” Amusement gone from his face, Malik had to make a physical effort to keep his expression the same, and not have it waver. He was scared of him… “But now, I’m having my revenge. Come, let’s start the night.” Knowing what those words meant, Malik scrabbled to his feet, desperation and terror taking over him. As quickly as possible, he pivoted on his heel and began to run as fast as he could to what looked like the exit, ignoring the pain and protest that his calve muscles gave.

But Mariku merely laughed once again, and with it, Malik heard a snap. Almost instantaneously, his muscles froze suspended in mid step, and his mind locked up, his body completely stiff, as if in Rigimortis. Heart beating erratically, Malik knew in the back of his mind what Mariku had done. Control over his body gone, Malik felt himself turn slowly to face Mariku once again, and in his hand, he could see the glint of the sennen rod. How he had gotten it here, Malik did not know. Or maybe, it was not the rod at all, only a piece of matter constructed into the shape and color of it to heighten his fear and show Mariku’s control over this world. Malik wouldn’t put it past him… In this world, Mariku did not need something as material as the rod to control what happened in it. Because Mariku was the conductor, and the rod was merely the medium, his conductor’s wand, and with it, he tore agonizing cries from his throat. Music.

Terrified of what he would do to him, Malik’s muscles strained to resist the pull of the rod’s effect, but it was a futile attempt. Even if he had never had the rod used on him, he knew how it worked. It was only sweet irony that he was in this situation; the source of all of his power and ability to act as if he did have control, was now being used on him. Unable to move, his physical self was under the complete control of dark, and even his mind was influenced by it’s affect. He could still feel the basic fear and sickness at the thought of what was happening, but other than that, he could only barely comprehend as he slowly began to walk back to Mariku. Hearing nothing, he did not even have the ability to feel anymore. Were his nerve endings under the rod’s power, as well? So this was what it was like to be a slave to the rod, completely and utterly cut off from the rest of the world, a doll, a puppet, only waiting for a command from it’s wielder. It was morbidly funny, actually. The rod was what gave Malik power, was what had given him his accomplishments, and what was the force behind his actions, and now, it was being used against him. And, in the same sense, so was it to Mariku. It was what he had used to kill his father, and in return, brought Malik out into the outside world.

Body not responding to his brains commands, the messages that it sent where muted through the haze of the rod’s power, and without Malik’s consent, Malik began to slowly walk back to Mariku’s throne. The only thing he could feel being that raw, animalistic fear, Malik watched helplessly as his body betrayed him, step, after step, after agonizing step. Growing more and more scared, Malik’s mouth was dry, and before he could comprehend what was happening to him, he was forced to kneel down at the bottom of his throne, his feet. This was degradation beyond human humiliation, and Malik fought it every inch of the way when he was slowly puppeteered into a bowing position, forehead making contact with the cold, blood covered floor. Mariku smirked down at him, from as much as he could see, and without so much as a flick of his wrist, the invisible bonds holding him snapped, and his mind was relinquished from Mariku’s power. But not completely. His limbs were still held in place, but he could breathe, feel, and move his head.

“How fitting…” Mariku twisted grin graced his lips, stretching up and past the dimension they were in to another plane, creating a pulling effect before his face went back to normality, and was no longer warped. “the dog always sits at his masters feet.” Glaring up with intense hatred, Malik snarled when Mariku laughed at his expression. He would not give into these lies, these insults! Mariku may have beaten him physical, but mentally, he would never give in. “Come on, don’t be like that, light. I am the owner, you are merely my possession. If you are not a dog, then you can be my cat. Let me hear you purr!” Eyes maniacal, Mariku’s foot shifted, and he lifted it so that it rubbed up against his cheek. Staring in revulsion, Malik growled, his steel toed boot hard and uncomfortable as it caressed his cheek. Humiliated at how he was being treated and at what he had been forcibly reduced to, Malik growled and thrashed his head to the side, biting at the air, and made a move to yell, retaliate back at him, but found that Mariku had not given him the decency to talk, his vocal cords restrained.

“Ah ah!” Mariku wagged his finger, still grinning darkly, undermining his hatred as something only in need of chastisement. “You’re not a dog anymore, remember? If you try and bite me…I’ll put you through what all you’ve done to me. I’m much more kind than you are, Malik. But this is my world, and what I say is the law! When I say that I want to hear you purr, I fucking mean it!” Seeing him angry wasn’t a rare sight, his face twisted in rage, veins rising unnaturally but…it was something Malik never got used to. It wasn’t human, the way his face looked, but then again, Mariku wasn’t… Mariku was the embodiment of pain, anger, loneliness…and his appearance gave perfect body to it. From what the elements had been in his making, Mariku was truly the perfect creation. And without so much as a warning apart from his rising voice, Mariku’s leg swung back, came back, and made contact with his jaw. Intense pain was what Malik felt then as the waves of agony radiated through his body, the pivoting point, the area of his cheek and jaw where his foot had been caressing only a moment earlier. Screaming in agony, Malik couldn’t so much as hold his face, not been given the gift of free will over his body. Continuing to howl in pain far after Mariku’s foot left, Malik’s only comfort was that none of his bones had been broken. They couldn’t, not here. Nothing real could happen to him here. But…he could still feel, and that was the source of more fear than if they were in the real world. Sobbing in pain, Malik gasped when Mariku’s boot gently made contact with his throbbing cheek again, stroking it up and down with his foot, still left in his bowing position.

“Oh, that was beautiful, Malik. What wonderful sounds I can bring forth from your throat. Come on, let me hear more of them…” Eyes narrowed, Mariku smiled down at him, and Malik despaired. He spoke in that soft voice, the kind he used only before something truly horrible happened, and Malik shuddered inwardly. “Let’s try a different sound, this time, hmm? Oh, but what can I do to make you vocalize it? Tonight, I’m going to make you cry, light. Cry like the world will when I win this body and create the darkness. But I want to hear it from you, first. I’m close, Malik, and your time is running out that you have this body. I’m going to show you what fear truly is. But…won’t you just try it now, just for me? If you do, I won’t have to resort to make you sob by…other means.” There was a glint in his eye, the light reflecting down from whatever caused it onto his clothes and facial features giving him dark shadows about his face. A look of pure malice, of desire, and of satisfaction of things to come.

“Y-you…” Malik’s voice was croaky at first, but he ignored it, his eyes determined and defiant as he stared up at him. “You abomination! You monster! You demon! This body will never be yours! It is mine, if anything else, by right! My mother was KILLED for me to have this body, and you can’t just simply take it away! I created you, and I can take you back to hell! Cry for you…? I WILL NOT CRY FOR WHAT I HAVE CREATED! I CREATED YOU! You can rule here, but you do not rule me!” Or at least, that’s what Malik hoped he would have said. Words strong in his head, Malik gave a wretched moan when Mariku said these things. Malik could not speak, Malik could not retaliate. Malik was at Mariku’s mercy, and his words had no life.

Having little else to do to convey his outright rejection of what Mariku had asked of him and to show his defiance, the light inside of him that could not die, Malik merely shook his head violently back and forth, gritting his teeth and glared up at him. Raising his eyebrows, Mariku looked amusedly down at him, and demissed his defiance easily. Malik’s will would not be as easily crushed.

“You make things so interesting, light, I will give you that. It is my only pleasure, every fucking day,” Mariku grit his teeth on that one word, clenching his hands down onto the armrest of his throne so that his knuckles turned white, “ that I have to stay in the darkness, to think up how the night will be, how I will compose my orchestra of your screams, the vibrato of your pain and the bass of your agony. ‘How will I dominate Malik tonight?’ I ask myself, because here, oh, here…here, this world is mine. You are my slave. Without even a shred of light in my existence, the place that I am kept locked up in, I think up your torture, my revenge. Will the treble be loud tonight? Or will it be harmonious with the deep, clouding melody that I can bend you into? How will I arrange my masterpiece, my art? Splattered with blood, dripping, drip drip down your-OUR skin? Or graced with mental suffering, to create a crescendo of your worst memories? But no, you, Malik…” Mariku looked at him oddly, then, his head at a high angle, as if even the sight of him was disdainful. “You’ve survived it all. You’ve played my pieces wonderfully, oh yes, you’ve taken every note, every scream as your own, and it is with great pleasure that I conduct you, but… your fingers have not cracked under the instrument’s hold. You drift through all of it, just waiting for that next rest, that pause of breath, that moment of silence in which you do not play. Tonight, though, it will be different. Your sheet music will be splattered with blood from a different place, and from here on out, it will forever remain, tainting your eyes.

This is a beautiful body, Malik, and if you are only good for one thing, it is that you take good care of it. But the more I begin to feel, to live, to be alive and breathe,” Mariku gasped then, and he closed his eyes, leaning back into the throne woven out of gold. A god atop his own delusional world. Eyes slowly opening, they stayed half way closed, and Mariku stared up into the never ending ceiling of darkness, “I’ve noticed some things. They frustrate me, Malik, and I don’t know what they are. But I suppose that it’s a sign of my growing control over this body. Sometimes, in the darkness that you lock me in, I can feel. And it’s glorious things that I feel, Malik, truly wonderful. Everything comes alive, every touch, every feeling, every sight… but yet, I have no way to help myself overcome it. It stays, for a long, long time, this feeling… and it is something even I am powerless against. But,” eyes snapping back down to him, Malik looked up in a daze, his mind trying not to concentrate on his words, but Mariku’s control over him here kept him foccusssed, and he could do little to not pay attention, “I have found a way. A way to rid myself of this feeling, and to make you cry and suffer in the process. I have written this piece that you will be performing more delicately and attentively than anything you have ever played before. Every note, every line, ever stroke in my mind has been set down with care, because truly, this will be the piece to complete my repertoire. My masterpiece, Malik, and you will never forget it. Even when it will be me in control of this body, and you in my place, the darkness, the back of our mind, our soul… you will remember the music we will have preformed together tonight, your body my orchestra, and I your conductor. …I think it’s time for warm ups now, Malik. Let’s hear your scale in D Minor!”

Eyes gleaming, Mariku threw his hands out to the side, a demented grin on his face, and with it, an unbearable pain shot throughout Malik’s body. Pain, pain, pain! It was always pain here, it never stopped, but neither did the agony that came with it. It wasn’t something he could get used to, never, and Malik screamed in anguish. It was as if many thousands of needles were puncturing his skin, his internal organs, electricity coming with them as it created a torturous prison of agony that he could not escape from, slave to his own body with no hope to escape. He screamed and screamed, squeezing his eyes shut as hard as he could, still in the same bowed position. It was strange, how he could feel this pain, yet not feel his own nerve endings enough to move. Maybe, Mariku was slipping up… Electricity radiating in waves through his veins, Malik was tired… Fatigue was what he felt. Fatigue and pain were the only truly real things in this world… His legs had been tired, his arms, his feet, his mind… Malik just wanted it to be over. Mariku could win this night, he just didn’t want to be hurt anymore…

“Faster, Malik, faster! Keep up with the tempo, or you will be left behind!” His eyes and laugh were maniacal.

It was fire, then. Electricity no longer plaguing his mind and body, it was fire now as it prickled against his skin. Burning, scolding hot fire, like he had been dumped into a pot of boiling water, looking up to see the lid close over him, sealing his fate. Awash with new pain, more screams were tore from his throat, feeling as if his vocal chords would snap and be torn to shreds. The fire enveloped him, licking at his senses and scalding his psyche. This was torture, this was true torture. Back still sensitive to touch, it was what hurt the most, as if his tattoos were alight with fire as it tore into his skin and spine. His eyes were blurry, open now, and he couldn’t see straight, the only sight being that of Mariku leaning back onto his throne, eyes half closed as he gazed down upon him, a look of pleasure upon his face. Revolted that he could find pleasure in the torture that was being put upon himself, Malik did not even have a fleeting thought of this, his mind focused solely upon his pain. But he could not free himself, now. What Mariku wished, Mariku got.

Flames coursing through his body, burning him alive, charring his skin, something snapped inside of his mind, and before he knew it, he was writhing upon the ground, having new found control over his body. Twisting in pain at his dark’s feet, Malik screamed, rubbing at his body to try and rid himself of those torturous, invisible flames. Desperation taking over his mind, it battled with his pain, trying to become the foremost thought in his mind. Humility and pride gone, Malik used his new control over his voice to it’s greatest use.

“MARIKU, MARIKU, MARIKU, MAKE IT STOP! ANYTHING, ANYTHING BUT THIS!” Throwing himself quite literally at his feet, Mariku sobbed, his body writhing from torture he was being put through. Terrified for his life, Malik’s mind did not reason with itself that this wasn’t real, that none of it real. But then again…if that was true… was Mariku just an illusion as well? This world, was it only, truly, all in his mind? “MAKE IT STOP, PLEASE, PLEASE-AH!” Having somehow managed to pull his deadweight body up the steps of the platform of which Mariku’s throne resided, he reached a hand out shakily through his haze of pain to clutch his leg. …Mariku couldn’t be an illusion; his body was all too real. Holding onto him like a pillar, an anchor, his lifeline, Malik pulled the rest of his body closer to him, holding onto his leg with both arms now. If Mariku could feel his body’s violent tremors as he tortured him, feel the pain he was putting him through, then maybe he could stop it. After all, Mariku had control over this reality. But instead of the pain having ended, he only felt it increase. A sharp, stinging sensation drove straight through his middle, puncturing him, a sword, and it twisted in his body, tearing his organs and flesh, scraping it all up and down the blade merciously, making Malik’s back arch into a beautiful arc, screaming louder than he ever had before. That was what Mariku’s description of it had been. He was being punished for touching him. A slave had no right to touch their master without permission.

But what was customary with Mariku’s world, everything changed drastically, quickly, on a dime, and just as sharply as it had come, the pain stopped. It was as if Malik had been drowning, held down underwater, fighting for breath, and once his invisible attacker finally let him go, he broke the surface, gasping for breath. Gulping air into his lungs, the air around him felt like a gallon of freezing water had been dumped onto him, his skin not recognizing the feeling of cool air, and not fire. Shudders racking his entire body, Malik shuddered, still gasping for breath, scared that it would be taken from him. Leaning his head slowly down so that his forehead touched the ground, Malik’s hands shakily found their way to his hair, nothing feeling right as he held himself, terrified, mind still in post traumatic shock. Had that been Mariku’s masterpiece? It couldn’t have been, and the thought terrified him. Could there be worse things than what he had just endured? Trembling when he felt a finger lift his chin up, Malik was reluctant to open his eyes.

“Oh, Malik, you know the rules. Your performance was beautiful, but I do not want to see your resignation enough to hold onto me. I disgust you, terrify you, you hate me, and that’s exactly the way that I want it. Don’t see me as your savior, because I will be the one who will drive that sword through your back in the end. Did you feel it? My metaphysical creations? My power is growing, Malik. There’s no need to hold back your tears, I will understand perfectly. Everything will be gone, your body, your family, your power…it will all be mine. Just give in and cry for me, and maybe, I won’t kill you slowly.” Mariku’s eyes were half lowered in the way that they always seemed to be, and he bent over in his regal throne, face inches from his own as he grabbed his chin. As if Malik had the strength to look away… Mariku’s eyes were like a cobra’s. Beautiful, they entranced him and terrified him all in the same, but yet, he couldn’t look away as they lured him closer, closer until striking. Venomous.

“Look at me, Malik.” Jostling his head, Mariku demanded his attention, and Malik’s eyes slowly moved up to meet his, ensnared in their soulless depths. “Do you know how beautiful, you are, Malik?” This, he was not expecting, and now, Malik looked at Mariku out of his own free will, terrified and uneasy at this sudden change. “You should see yourself, light, and you would see how beautiful you truly are. Your face is so tired…tired of my torture, out of breath and sweating, your body trying to recover from me, even though it knows it’s hopeless. Your strength is gone, your body merely a vessel to hold yourself, to hold me, and your limbs are limp from the many gifts I have given you. Such terror I see in your eyes… they hold life, Malik. Emotions as they twist and flow, creating a tapestry of sorrow and pain, hatred and anguish. I want to see them all, taste them all, feel your suffering. Don’t look away, Malik. Because…these feelings, these things that happen to me only occur when I think of you in pain, or see you at my feet, writhing, screaming…” Closing his eyes, Mariku’s head tilted up, his mouth open slightly, breathing slowly. “It’s not a bad feeling, no, no, it’s absolutely wonderful. It’s exhilarating and makes me sweat, but…I can’t get rid of it, only when it dwindles down to an agonizing ache in the back of my mind. And now, it’s back. I can feel it, omote, because watching you suffer is the most fun I can ever have.” Eyes lifting open half way, Mariku gazed down at him through long eyelashes, his breathes having become shorter.

“Y-You’re sick.” Revulsion was what Malik felt, utter and complete revulsion. How could a creature, even one such as Mariku, ever take so much…pleasure in another being’s torment? Their creator, none the less? But…if he was his god, then why couldn’t he smite him down to hell? ‘Because that’s where he was born from,’ he reasoned with himself, his mind just wanting to give in to what torture would befall on him, and survive the night like all others. And Malik despaired.

“Oh, but,” Mariku’s eyes were cold, and the smile on his face radiated malevolence, “light, you were the one who made me this way.” Narrowing his eyes, Mariku jerked his hand to the side and let go of his chin, making Malik’s head move with the motion, his neck moving into an uncomfortable position. Sitting back up onto his throne, Mariku’s face moved away, and Malik tensed outwardly at this.

“You take everything for granted,” his voice was harsh, cruel, and he could see the raging jealousy and blame behind it, “all of the feelings you have, your emotions, your family… But I want none of that! You created me, and I will be the one to destroy you! Give and take, Malik!” Gritting his teeth together, Mariku’s face warped like it often did when he got excited or angry, stretching out into the plane of another dimension. Unease growing quickly in his stomach, Malik flinched away when he felt something like needles pricking his arms, having been caused by Mariku’s sudden and intense hatred. “You’ve taken everything from me, even before I was born, before I had a chance. But now, it’s my turn. You know what it’s like to have a body, Malik, and you can help me. I know you know what this feeling is. Sometimes, at night, when I don’t have enough strength to call you here…I watch through our mind as you fix this problem, this feeling. You moan, and scream, and writhe, and sweat. It is such beautiful torture, and I can almost even pretend that it’s because of me that you do this. But no, it’s not my influence, it’s this feeling, this thing that happens to our body. You know what it is, Malik.”

A sick realization as to what exactly this feeling Mariku was so fascinated about, Malik did know. All too well, he knew, and it scared him; because for Mariku to feel this, it meant that he was growing slow, but steady control and dominance over his body. But the more immediate danger scared him more. Mariku had said that Malik could end this feeling, and there was only one thing that he could mean. His body under the control of Mariku at the moment, the threat of loosing his will over it was even greater now. Malik was terrified. A sudden exhale from Mariku, and he watched in horror as his hand slowly traveled down his chest to his legs and crotch.

“God. You know, I’m tempted to throw everything away, everything I’ve planned to make you scream again. Hear your voice as you-” His eyes closed, and Malik’s muted horror could do nothing to stop the movement of his hand, or the words that spilled out of his mouth, twisted, wicked, disgusting. “-moaning and crying, bleeding, your skin covered in blood that I had make come from you, cut you open and,” Mariku groaned sharply, the pit of sickness and terror only growing in his stomach. These were not things sane people said. These were things sick, deprived people said. Murderers, spurning genocide, atrocities, rapists. Malik slowly started to inch his way backwards, crawling slowly, petrified of the thought of Mariku’s eyes opening, his center of attention being on him. More than ever, Malik did not want to know the way that Mariku planned to make him cry. “-take it out. What would your vocalization be, then? Piercing, begging for mercy as you lose touch from reality, blood, blood, oozing, dripping down your arms and legs, smearing over your face, my face. Pretty, it’s so pretty your blood is. I’d lick it up, and when I ran out, more cuts I’d give you, with the rod? THEN you’d be screaming, and I’d do something else as you finally started to die. I’d take you, rip your clothes and tie them around your eyes-no! I-I’d want you to see every part of it as I rid you of…”

Mariku was growing delusional, his breaths coming in pants again, eyes shut, head tilted up towards the ceiling, his words starting to slur and become less controlled. But when he started to groan loudly, the movement of his hand becoming a little faster, Malik couldn’t take it anymore, the terror, the suspense of if he would open his eyes. Scrabbling to his feet, Malik sprinted as far away as he could, not knowing where the exit was, only that he had to get as far away from his dark as possible. Malik didn’t want to be anywhere near him when he masturbated over imagining torturing him.

Heart beating rapidly, Malik felt the tell tale sign of restriction when his legs started to lock up. Every step he took became more forced, and took more effort. Knowing full well what was happening, Malik’s eyes grew wide in terror, willing himself to move, to keep going, and not fall back into the demon’s trap. It was as if everything slowed down, his mind, his movements, and that dull sense of terror in his stomach. His body finally slowing to a stop, Malik fell to the ground, his muscles no longer under his control, and their new puppeteer not giving him the decency to stand. Head resting on the cool, gold floor, there was another puddle of blood right in front of him, and his heart froze up when he saw Mariku’s reflection in it, standing right behind him, kneeled, running his hands over his back. But he could feel none of this, and knew that the image he was seeing was only another one of Mariku’s illusions. It did nothing to help his fear.

“That was a stupid thing to do, Malik.” He could no longer think straight, a thick, heavy cloud settled over his mind. “You know there’s no escape.”

And there wasn’t. Limbs moving on their own, Mariku willed him to stand up, and Malik felt like a doll. Just a living, breathing doll. But here, he did not breathe, and he could only faintly tell when Mariku made him face him again, the situation similar to when he had first tried to run. Malik slowly began to step towards him.

“That’s the spark of defiance I love, Malik.” Mariku wore his twisted grin, marring the face that was at one time, Malik’s and Malik’s alone. He was still sitting atop his throne, but his posture was different, and there was something behind his eyes that Malik could not read. Those eyes, dead to the world, was Malik’s only weakness, the weakness that he had created, the weakness that was supposed to have made him strong. “I’ll enjoy crushing it in the end.” His footsteps ringing out in the circular room, he would sometimes step into a puddle of blood, his bare feet making a squishing sound when he did so. And if he concentrated hard enough, Malik could almost feel the oozing sensation of the blood between his toes. Malik wasn’t even surprised when he felt that his voice had been once again restricted as well.

There was nothing that Malik could make out of this situation, whether it be Mariku filtering his thoughts, or it’s being in a whole. He was scared, he knew that, but for so many different reasons. For Mariku to feel arousal…he was becoming more in tune with Malik’s body, and he was becoming harder to suppress. There was no telling what would come next, and Malik was faced with that same undeniable fact: Mariku would one day take over his body. The days were becoming fewer, and it was beautiful irony that, at the height of his achievements, head of the ghouls, a runner in the finals, the one thing that could stop him was coming out now. If Mariku took control during the duels…it could jeopardize everything he had worked for. But now, this wasn’t the main thing on Mariku’s mind, and what was, was the forefront in his fear, the only bit of hope he had left being that Mariku couldn’t physically touch him here. Or at least…he prayed it was still true.

Mariku narrowed his eyes when he continued to walk back to him, the distance he had gained between them now closing. Lifting his hand, Mariku beckoned him towards him, mocking him and the situation he was in. Seeming to become impatient, Mariku sped up the process, and Malik finally reached the throne, but unlike he had done before, making him bend down and kneel at his feet, Malik felt himself walk slowly up the steps to Mariku himself. Horrified, Mariku’s eyes narrowed farther in wicked amusement as he reached him at the top where he was positioned, right in front of him, praying that the laws of this universe still applied, and that Mariku could not touch him.

But fate had never been kind to him, and to his absolute horror, Mariku manipulated his body, Malik’s legs moving on their own as he leaned forward, slowly crawling onto his lap, legs on either side of him, straddling his waist. Mariku had never been so close, out of the entirety of his existence, and Malik could feel the hatred and anger inside him, so, so close, as it radiated off of him, a physical aura. Malik stared wide eyed down at him, his facial features the only thing he had control over, for Mariku’s own sick amusement. His arms moving, the moved themselves over Mariku’s head, so that he was leaning almost over him, Mariku’s face level with his own.

“Hello, light.” The cords of Mariku’s control broke suddenly

Malik needed no words then to express his utter terror then, and without a second thought, he did the most productive thing he could do then, and screamed. It was, in all senses, the quintessence of his fear, the very embodiment of the horror, the trepidation that he felt, and everything he could not express that trickled down into that scream. He screamed for Mariku’s birth, he screamed for his father’s death, he screamed for the bit of control that slipped out of his fingers every day, he screamed for the way that he was finally touching Mariku, and he screamed for the terror he felt when he could not move away, locked in position. Trying to jerk away, to leave this madman, Malik felt he couldn’t, Mariku still leaving his body partly disabled, for he could jerk, and pull, and twist all he wanted, but could not move from the fundamental position that Mariku kept him in.

A look of complete pleasure on his face, Mariku’s eyelids once again lowered partly, his head tilted up to look at him while he screamed, and Malik felt revulsion when one of his hands slid slowly up his back. Gasping, Malik stilled suddenly, his eyes still wide, fear filling them completely as Mariku slowly ghosted his hand up and down his back. Closing his eyes, Mariku’s mouth was closed as he touched him. His hands finding their way to the bottom of his shirt, Malik gasped again, but did not scream, his mind going into a temporary lockdown as he felt Mariku touch his bare skin. Nails scraping almost painfully over his back, Mariku smoothed his palm all down and around his skin, memorizing, studying him, and with every movement of his hand, Malik grew sicker. This couldn’t be happening.

“It’s such a strange thing, our body.” Mariku’s voice was soft as he spoke, looking directly into his eyes, his other hand now joining the first as they continued to touch him. “Such smooth, beautiful skin…our father, marring it, but yet, it remains a masterpiece of human fabrication. Our mother, who gave her life to create you, us, me…” Fingers trailing slowly upward, Malik squeezed his eyes shut sharply when he pressed down at the very bottom of his tattoo. Digging his nails into his skin, Mariku growled and Malik’s back arched, eyes snapping open at the sudden pain, scared to have his back touched. “Look at me. Watch me as I own you.” Eyes cold and hard, Mariku played the part of the master, and commanded him to watch him, which Malik did, having no other place to look at. His eyes drew him in… “This skin is what harbors life, Malik, and so cruelly you keep it from me. Who are you to deny me the right of life? You created me to help you deal with the initiation, but once my purpose was over, you cast me aside, left to sit and wallow in the dark, rotting away…” Unable to hold back the tremors of fear, Malik shook softly, hyperventilating quietly as Mariku traced his tattoos. Every hieroglyph was touched, rubbed over, traced as Mariku spoke. Malik did not like to have his back touched. “But now-…no, not anymore. I’m going to claim this body for my own, fully and completely. I am who you are, Malik Ishtar. I am your identity, your self, a part of your soul, and without me, you would be nothing. Nobody. Simply an heir to the Ishtar clan, living your life in darkness… But I changed that. I was the one who brought this body out of the dark and into the light! I am you, Malik Ishtar!”

Nails digging into his back sharply, Mariku dragged them down, and Malik’s back arched once again, making him throw his head back and scream in pain, in fear. And just as his body moved, so did Mariku’s. Back moving itself into the same position, his eyes closed, and instead of screaming, he let go of a low moan, a hiss at the end. Because they were linked through the mind, the soul, and the body as well. At the height of Malik’s pain and Mariku’s twisted pleasure, Malik’s arms were jerked down and their bodies were pressed together, Mariku’s lips making contact with his own.

He knew it would have come, that it would have happened eventually, and no matter how Malik tried to put it off, it would do no good. But that did not change the absolute wrongness of it. Because…Mariku was the quintessence of Malik himself. He was his hate, his pain, his anger, his deviation from the world. Mariku understood what Malik himself could not, who no one else could, his sturdy rock when he was in a time of darkness. But yet, it did not stop Mariku from shoving his tongue into his mouth, Malik unable to bite down out of fear and instinct from Mariku’s control over his body. His tongue, his hands, his body, his mind…they were all a part of him, identical. This was Malik, all of him. Mariku was himself, the part of him that he could not repress, no matter how hard he tried. And it was wrong, but Malik could not stop himself, Mariku, from taking control over him sexually.

Unable to draw away, their breaths were hot, and Malik was forced to endure the way Mariku’s tongue moved in his mouth, it’s length the same as his own as he tasted him, himself, their body.

“I want to know the full extent of what I can do, what we can do.”

Mariku dragged his fingers back down his back, creating gashes in his skin, and Malik could feel the blood form then. Screaming again (because it was the only thing he could do now), Malik arched into Mariku’s mouth, their lips pressing closer together as Mariku did the same, the feeling of pain mutual. But it was almost a familiar feeling, because Malik knew his body well, and that thought alone only built the sick feeling inside of him. Hot, hot, hot, their breaths were heavy as Mariku finally drew away.

“Do you not like this, Malik?” Mariku’s voice was husky, and his eyes a little wild as he slowly trailed his hand over the cuts he had made on his (their) backs. “The pain? The pleasure that I have bestowed upon you?” His eyes were narrowed once again, and Mariku looked up at him in a manner that was not directly insane. But Malik knew that he was testing him, that his answer would mean something, even if they both knew what his response would be. “Answer me, Malik! I have given you the gift of speech!” And testing his voice, Malik knew he was right, a garbled slur coming out of his mouth.

“I-” His voice trailed off, unused to so much abuse. But what was he to say? This was his time to show Mariku that he was not afraid, that he could beat him, that he could not control him, that Malik bowed to no one. Only…he would if it was the truth. Through it all, Malik found that he could not lie to Mariku, because it was, most directly, lying to himself. Mariku knew all of his thoughts, all of his feelings. It would be no good to lie. “I-…” A pause, and Malik held back the apprehension that he felt, “have I ever liked pain, Mariku? Pain is what brought you here, because it is something that I cannot deal with, that I am…scared of. Yes, it hurts. Everything you have done has hurt me! But,” his eyes were strong now, with renewed life. Even if his fear, his pain, his terror were true, he would not bend to this monster. He was in control of his actions, and the results that they caused. Malik determined his own life, not fate. “I will never give in to you. I will send you back to hell, so that you can never return! You monster! You horrible, horrible bastard! You can’t control me! If you are truly myself, then I can defeat you! You will never make me cry!”

Mariku’s eyes grew insanely mad with every passing of the words that left his tongue, but Malik did not back down. And he did not back down when Mariku began to laugh in the way that only he could. Wicked. Demented. Dimensions pulling at his face, Malik could feel the anger that built up in him with his words, but he did not back down! Malik would show him that he was strong. But what use was strength if he could not physically defend himself? Or at least, this was the question he would have asked if he had a chance before Mariku grabbed him sharply by the neck and lunged at him. His body not able to hold both of their weight, he fell backwards off the throne, taking Mariku with him.

Malik’s eyes were wide when he hit the floor, an intense pain shooting through his head and back as he made contact with the gold ground, Mariku’s extra weight on top of him only adding to the feeling. But if he could feel pain, did that mean that Mariku had let him control his body again…? It was yes, because Malik was now able to twist and gasp beneath him as Mariku choked him, both hands around his throat. Eyes wild and wide, Mariku’s true insanity and rage showed through, and Malik could feel the emotions that lay beneath them. Anger, bitterness, fear… Because even though he was now choking him, Malik scrabbling at his arms desperately to get him off, Mariku knew that Malik would win in the end. He might win the physical battle, but he would not win the war of the psyche.

Gasping for breath, Malik clawed at his arms, desperate to get away and save himself, even though he knew he could not die. It was an animalistic response, one that his instinct told him to do, and he followed it. Trying to pry his hands off of his neck once he learned that scratching and hitting him wouldn’t work, Malik began to feel light headed, everything twisting and swirling together, like the walls of the first room had been. Hands tightening, Mariku growled, a twisted grin on his face as he watched him struggle to stay alive in this world. In one last desperate attempt to save himself, Malik kicked at him, his leg making it’s mark. His hands instantly leaving themselves from his neck, Mariku gasped, his eyes wide, and Malik did the same. It was a double sided sword, since Malik was now able to breathe freely, but he could also feel the pain that Mariku felt between his legs. They really were connected…

“Fuck you…” Mariku growled, biting his lip, the anger still present in his eyes, but for the most part it had left, although he was still straddling his waist, not leaving. It was pointless for Mariku to try and kill him in this place, or any. Malik was his host, and without him, their body would die. Trying to relieve the pain a little, Malik squeezed his legs shut, but gave the smallest of smirks to the dark above him. He could be a martyr if it meant saving himself as well.

Breathing heavily, grateful for his renewed breath, Malik panted, planning his next move, and nervous of what Mariku would do. He did not forget the kiss, and he did not forget the way that he had masturbated over the thought of himself in pain. But he did not know what Mariku could do, what Mariku was planning. And since Mariku was god over this world, he could do little to save himself from what Mariku wished. All he could do now was sit and wait it out.

“That’s a shame, Malik.” Mariku twisted his leg so that they rested fully on either side of him, making Malik feel claustrophobic. Sheep in the Lion’s den… “But I suppose that you cannot fully appreciate pain, since you’ve let yourself become so ungrateful for feelings. You’ve been spoiled on them, Malik. Oh, your pain, your fear, your love, your hatred, your embarrassment, your jealousy, contentment, joy, sorrow, happiness… at one point, I would have given anything to feel those things, even my sorry excuse for life. But, oh no, not anymore Malik.” Mariku’s smiles were always clouded in darkness and foreboding. “With feelings, comes mercy and regret. There is no room for the powerful if there is sympathy for the weak. I don’t need feelings, Malik. Without them, I am stronger. But…I have been both blessed and cursed. I can feel pain. Every inch of it I can feel as it moves throughout my body, enveloping me, taking me under…” his words were low, soft, and he leaned over so that wherever the source of light was coming from was blocked, and Malik could see his face as it became dark, eyes now closed. Malik’s heart beat faster. Mariku stayed still for a while, his eyes closed, mouth open slightly, as if he was feeling what he was describing in a euphoric state. His eyes closed, Malik was now looking at a mirror. “It’s like being plunged into what I imagine water feels like, cut off from world with only one thing to hang onto, and it becomes your everything. Sharp, intense, it’s the only thing I know…And it’s the only thing that I want to know. I want the WORLD to feel my pain as I overthrow the unstable pillars of government and human sustainment. But first, I’ll start with you.” His mouth was shut tight, an odd expression, and Malik looked warily up at him.

This was all wrong, everything. The way that Mariku was touching him now, and the way that he could succumb to his will so easily. It was not right, the fundamental laws of this universe beginning to falter and sway with every second that went by that they made contact. Because if Malik was himself, but Mariku was as well, wouldn’t one of them be fake, superficial in the least? Malik was the original, for god’s sake, HE WAS ALIVE!, but then how could they touch in this place? Mariku shouldn’t be able to touch him…he was not real, couldn’t do any real damage, just a ghost, a phantom, an illusion that he had created. But if Mariku was physical, then that meant that his psyche was as well, that his mind, their mind, was beginning to topple and crumble in the confusion of which to follow. Should it take orders from himself, Malik? Or should it take orders from himself, Mariku? And maybe that was why they could make contact, now, the lines of reality blurred and warped. Just like Mariku.

“Are you that confident?” He would have to tread the waters of Mariku’s allowance carefully. “I won’t let you do it! You think that you can hurt me, make me cry!? Big words, for someone who doesn’t even have a name, a body of their own. So you steal mine! A false hope! I’m going to send you back to hell.”

“Shut up!” Mariku’s growled, veins starting to rise in his face as he hit him hard across the face, making Malik’s head roll to the side with the force of it. A double edged sword, Mariku’s head moved to the left as well, the invisible force of his hit being used back on him. Connected, they felt the same pain, the only difference was how they dealt with it. “You little fucking liar! You fake, you-…you!” Raising his hand again, Mariku punched him in the stomach, both gasping with the force of his blow. His anger was intense, and he did not care that he could feel the pain that he bestowed upon Malik as he hit him again, in the face. Mariku’s words were childish, shallow, and everything that he embodied. How could he retaliate if he knew that everything Malik had said was true? He knew that Mariku knew that he was truly the fake. Mariku, the charlatan, Malik, the original. And maybe, that was his only true fear. Malik could play on this; Mariku was not the only one who harbored the ability to twist and deform the mind.

“A fake!?” Malik yelled back, trying to kick his legs again, but Mariku had learned from his mistake and kept him held down. “I created you, and I can kill you! I will! You are mine, and I have control over you, you monster, demon! You’re a parasite, living off of my body! Without me, you would die! Who is the fake, now? I control you!” Rage bubbling up inside of him, it finally spilled over the top as Mariku punched him one last time, making Malik gasp, losing his breath.

“Big words, for someone who’s too weak to even defend themselves.” Mariku leaned down so that their faces were inches apart, hissing at him through his teeth, eyes once again narrowed. Legs trapping his own, Mariku held down his arms as well. Caged. “We’ll see who’s truly in control.” His expression was odd then as he looked down at him, moving his head to a high angle, studying his face, mouth open the slightest bit. “Ah-…” Mariku’s eyes lowered to their normal state, no longer wild and insane (or, more like, as wild and insane.). Letting go of one of his arms, he reached out to touch his face, and Malik flinched when he did so, expecting a harsh blow, surprised when his touch was soft. The situation becoming dangerous, Malik stayed as still as he possibly could as Mariku trailed his hand down his face, ghosting over his skin, sometimes drifting down to his mouth. Keeping his mouth closed tight, Malik breathed through his nose, chest rising and falling a little erratically. Scared, he didn’t know what Mariku was up to, and even if he truly was in control, Mariku was right when he said that here, he wasn’t. Here, he was at a disadvantage. Malik still didn’t want to be hurt, he wasn’t stupid. Having leaned in closer, Mariku watched him silently as he touched his lips, slowly moving over them with a single finger, making Malik’s heart beat faster.

“Is this really my body?” Voice as quiet as his touch, Mariku’s eyes were critical, judging, but something else lay behind them. He could not be read. Continuing to stroke his fingers over his lips, Malik shuddered, not liking how his body covered his more than ever. “This, this? Is this what I look like? Is this what I will gain when I take over, my rightful inheritance?” He cocked his head to the side slightly, his expression still soft, but held danger, yielding to any inhibitions Malik might have had. “Is this what people will see me as? It’s soft, this body, my body.” Fingers leaving his lips momentarily, Malik squeezed his eyes shut when he felt his hand move to the curve of his cheek, stroking, touching, memorizing. “…Beautiful.”

Malik didn’t know what his words meant, not that he ever did. They were insane, truly, and he would often ramble inconherritantly, repeating phrases over and over, seeming to have an obsession with the thought of language. Speaking now, Mariku’s words were veiled, their meaning different from what he initially comprehended them as. Mariku wanted something, meant something, but Malik could not figure it out. His words were narcissistic.

“You-, I feel like life.” His fingers trailing downward, they stopped underneath his chin, Mariku creating pressure there, making Malik gulp, not liking him so close to his neck. “So human…I could kill you so easily. All I’d have to do is jab up.” Emphasizing his point, he pushed up harder and closer to his neck. “Right here, I can feel your life, our life, resting in my hands. Blood blood and veins that carry it right here underneath this thin layer of skin. Ah…” Moving his hand a little, Mariku found one of his veins, pressing down on it. “Right here. I can feel it pulsing, our life…” He gave that demented grin that he so loved to wear, tracing the artery up and down his neck, Malik’s fingers twitching against the floor. If he moved… no, it was out of the question. He had to get away, somehow, anyway, but it was all the same. Malik couldn’t be anywhere near him, but yet, he couldn’t move. He needed to wake.

“This, ah-!” Pressing down a little too hard, Mariku gasped when he felt the feeling of his finger underneath his own chin. “This…” Calming himself down when he had begun to give in to his familiar psychosis, Mariku moved himself closer to his neck, face resting just above it. Nervous of what he was doing, Malik glanced down to see Mariku staring up at him, those eyes entrancing him, ensnaring him in their bottomless depths. “Is this the basis of our life?” Voice a quiet whisper, it came out soft, a quiet hiss near the end. Eyes staring wide down at him, Malik froze, not daring to move an inch. This was dangerous, a cobra ready to strike right next to his neck. “Just this, is all? You’re so helpless.” Exhaling, his breath was hot against his skin as he rested his mouth just above his neck. He was delirious. “If you look like this, I wonder what we taste like…” Closing his eyes, Mariku leaned in the rest of the way, trailing his tongue along his neck.

The feeling was repulsive, sickening, but yet, Malik could do nothing to stop it, and didn’t think he could if he tried. Moving in closer to him, Mariku forced Malik’s head to the side so that he had better access to his neck. Starting to hyperventilate, Malik shuddered as Mariku dragged his tongue all up and down his neck, pausing sometimes to suck on the skin before licking him again. Always, with his tongue. It must be the favorite part of his body… Breath hot and heavy, Mariku’s body closed in around him, again making him feel claustrophobic, and Malik was reminded of one of what the people of this land called a vampire. Smothering him, Mariku stopped with his tongue to kiss his neck, all up and down, retracing the trail of saliva he had left behind. His lips were cold, and his breath was hot, a contrast to his own skin, and Malik could feel the way his mouth moved on him. Every inch of him he could feel, and sometimes his teeth when he got a little too excited. His hands holding him down, his mouth, his breath, the way he would make small noises in the back of his throat, his tongue, slowly moving over his skin, his hair as it moved with his head, his legs, heavy as they held him down, supporting his body which leaned on his own; Malik felt it all, and it was only intensified with fear.

Chest rising and falling erratically, Malik couldn’t hold it back anymore, that raw terror of having his dark so close to him, to have his mouth on his neck. Vulnerability. Beginning to wake up from his state of mental and physical hindrance, Malik became aware to what exactly he was letting happening to himself. Becoming angry at what Mariku was doing and himself for giving in so easily, he jerked his arm out of Mariku’s grasp quickly, taking him off guard, and punched him in the stomach with as much strength as he had. Mariku’s eyes grew wide and he coughed, clutching his stomach, and Malik did the same, feeling the same sensation as he had. He should really get to start learning that they could feel the same things…

Flipping himself around onto his stomach as quickly as possible, Malik’s heart beat faster as he tried to scrabble to his feet, knowing that he would, once again, make Mariku incredibly angry. Crying out, Malik felt a hand grab his ankle, pulling him back towards it’s owner’s body, making his arms give out from the sudden movement, his chest hitting the floor. Grabbing his arm and wrenching him back onto his back, Mariku growled, slamming his hands onto either side of his head, leaning in close to him. If possible, Malik’s heartbeat increased.

“What did you think that’d do?” Mariku growled, seeming to recover quickly from his hit. Oh, Malik was so naïve… “Save you? HA!” Throwing his head back, Mariku laughed manically, the sound warping through the air as his face began to do. Gritting his teeth, Malik ignored the danger of the situation and used his palm to thrust up hard against his chest. Gasping again, Mariku’s eyes were wild, and he screamed loudly, grabbing his head where it rested precariously between his hands. Eyes wide, Malik grabbed at his arms to try and stop him, but it did no good and Mariku slammed his head hard against the ground. His mind going into shock, Malik felt the pain as it shot out through his head. Vaguely, he could see Mariku above him through his now blurred vision, and despaired when it did not appear as though he felt his pain as well. Seeming to understand this as well, Mariku continued to laugh, and slammed his head against the hard, gold ground, blood from the floor smearing itself onto his hair. Malik felt like his head was going to crack open any minute.

“Punishment!” Mariku screamed at him, that same, dark laugh tearing through his throat and enveloping him in pain and terror, his grin of amusement plastered onto his face. “Your fingerings were wrong! You played the wrong note! You fucked up my soliquey!” Continuing to bang his head onto the ground, Malik screamed each time he was hit. His mind was hazy through the pain as it overwhelmed him, all he could feel being Mariku’s fingers as they held his skull, gripping his head between his palms. How was it that Mariku seemed so strong? As if he could crush his head at any moment, the way that his hands were bigger than his own, more powerful, masculine, if they were the same person? Was it truly, truly all in his mind? Or maybe, it was only an illusion of his own. “I’m going to make your brains splatter on the floor! Fuck!” With a particularly forceful hit, Mariku let go of him suddenly to clutch his own head, eyes wide as he shook, his teeth gritted.

“F-Fuck…” Shaking his head from side to side, Mariku moaned, seeming to finally feel the pain in full force.

It was always like this, after Malik felt pain in this world. It would reach an unbearable level, and it would hang there, suspended. But yet, he could not die, and no real damage could be done, but he could still feel the pain… His mind clouded, Malik gave his own moan as he bit his lip, the pain not yet receding, the back of his head throbbing as if it had truly been cracked open. Opening his eyes only the slightest bit, the light that he saw made him cry out and squeeze them shut again, making him dizzy. His head hurt… but so did Mariku’s. At least he could get away with some amount of a feeling of satisfaction there. Justice.

“Is the world not enough?” Mariku’s voice was quiet, and Malik’s eyebrows furrowed at the sound of it. He recovered so quickly… Malik didn’t like to be in such a state of raw vulnerability while Mariku was fully capable to comprehend reality. Or…what was left of it. “I asked a fucking question, I expect you to answer.” He turned his head slowly over the should to meet his now opened eyes, expression full of malice and hatred.

“I don’t even know what that means…” Talking hurt, and Malik clutched his head while he did so, groaning at the pain that shot out in his skull.

“Of course you don’t!” Mariku yelled, growing more and more angry, slamming his fist onto the ground when he turned to face him. “Look what all you fucking have! Everything, while I have nothing! Is the world not good enough for you!? Is that it, is that why you want to deny me the right to live, you fucking-…! Oh, you want it all for yourself! Everything! You wouldn’t want to share with me, that’s why! You’re scared I’m going to take it from you!” His accusations sharp, Mariku made his way back over to him, Malik not being able to get away quickly enough, finding himself face to face with his own personal demon. Mariku gestured with his arms wildly, his voice rising with every statement of hatred and blame, and Malik couldn’t help but wonder if it was true. “I’m fucking sick of you, you fake! I deserve this! Me! This body is mine!” Reaching out for him, Mariku took a hold of both his arms suddenly so that he was trapped between them. The familiar feeling of fear returning, Malik struggled in his grasp, not liking the way that their skin made contact. His skin. “It’s time that I show you this! I am going to show you how much control I have! This is my master piece!” Laughing suddenly and sharply, Mariku threw him to the ground, Malik in a daze at what was happening.

“Let me admire the instrument which I will be playing!” Grinning manically, Mariku continued to laugh that horrible laugh, the one that made Malik’s hairs stand straight up on the back of his neck, the one that signified hatred itself, the one that plagued his dreams, his nightmares.

Grabbing the bottom of his purple shirt, Malik’s eyes widened as he tore it suddenly with such force that it ripped straight up the middle. He knew he had to get away, just as before, but with much more need. This he could never let happen. The feeling of cool air against his now bare stomach, Malik scrambled to get away, but Mariku caught him easily and flung him to the ground again, as if to show his power as he moved his body so that it covered his own. Trapped, Malik felt his skin against him and the danger that surrounded him. Everything was dark around the edges, terror, perhaps as it sunk into his mind, that ever growing terror as Mariku tore away the rest of his shirt, shredding it to little bits, his torso now bare. Thrashing wildly, Malik screamed, hitting his arms, not understanding why his body felt so weak, petrified that this was the end; he was truly caught.

Continuing to scream, Mariku growled, still grinning, and Malik knew that he was relishing in his terror, in his dominance over him. Throat going hoarse, Malik was cut off sharply as Mariku’s lips made sudden, harsh contact with his own. His screams muted, Malik’s eyes widened and he beat against his arms and back, trying in any way to get him off, his legs restrained by Mariku’s weight. Bucking up against him, Mariku groaned into his mouth, starting to feel dizzy from lack of oxygen. He was trying to suffocate him.

The feeling was surreal, his own lips against his own, and Malik knew that they were truly his. Familiar. They felt the same as when he touched them with his fingers, as if he were kissing a mirror. Only this mirror was cracked, and his fingers bled when he ran them over the surface. Screaming desperately, Malik tried to twist away, but Mariku’s hands moved to hold him, all the while his lips never leaving. He kissed him with an open mouth, moving as though the other party was responding with enthusiasm. Tongue against his lips, Malik was repulsed, keeping his mouth closed tight. He wouldn’t let this demon conquer him. Feeling light headed, Mariku broke away suddenly and Malik gasped for air, only to have Mariku grab his jaw, grinning down at him.

“If you are me, and I am me, who are you? A fake!” Trashing his head from side to side, Mariku smacked his cheek when he tried to move. “Your instrument is perfectly in tune! Let it sing, Malik! Play it well!” Giving him no preparation, Mariku smashed their lips together again suddenly. His actions were growing roughing, and his lips were beginning to bruise as he kissed him over and over again, mouth never leaving his own. Screaming into his mouth, Malik screamed for real when he felt something jab into his side, but refused to open his mouth as Mariku’s tongue continued to lick his lips through the kiss. As he refused, Mariku’s impatience grew, and that horrible stabbing feeling continued over and over, growing in force. One particularly hard stab into his side, and Malik’s eyes shot wide open. It felt as if he had just been stabbed, and he could almost feel the blood gushing out of his side as the sword inside the wound twisted to heighten his agony. Not being able to take it anymore, Malik’s mouth opened wide as he screamed into Mariku’s own. …And he took the opportunity.

Grinning, Mariku shoved his tongue into his mouth, and Malik’s eyes stayed wide. It was wet, big, and it violated his mouth, disgusting. It was his tongue he was using to do this! Mockery! Horror growing, Malik’s body shook, petrified. It was as if his body knew what was happening, and it was confused. Weren’t his lips his and his alone, his arms, his hands, his face? But how, if they were truly his own, could they be touching, molesting, degrading him now? Mariku’s tongue running over his own, Malik jerked back against the floor, trying to get as far away from it as possible. But Mariku caught him, suppressed his attempts to free himself, and grabbed his hair, pulling his head back so that his throat was exposed. Leaning farther over him, Malik’s mouth stayed open, his eyes wide, terrified as Mariku grinned darkly down at him. Moving to lick his bottom lip, his tongue now focused on his face. Over his chin, his cheeks, forehead, everywhere Mariku licked him, memorizing him thoroughly. Malik’s hand twitching, he was scared. So, so scared, and he didn’t know why, or how.

Hadn’t he always been afraid of Mariku? Always, from the beginning? Why was it so different now? Was it because of how Mariku was touching him, licking him, owning him with his own body and the helpless feeling that came with it? Or maybe…he had never been scared of him at all. He had just been something that rested quietly in the back of his mind, soft, a quiet whisper when he spoke to him. Only now was he dangerous, that Malik saw him as a threat as he slowly gained control over his body.

“Smooth…” Mariku breathed next to his ear, licking the tip of it, and Malik felt his body heat up. This was humiliation… “My body tastes good. Mmmhmm…like right here.” Dragging his tongue down, he sucked on his jaw, grabbing his chin so that he couldn’t shake away. He could feel his mouth as he sucked on the skin there, over and over for a long while, his skin starting to hurt from the abuse. …Would it truly be worth it to fight back, if in the end he would only lose, anyway? He had tried, many times, and maybe, the only way to escape was to give Mariku what he wanted… Letting go of his chin, he finally withdrew, and Mariku looked down, pleased. Glancing fearfully up at him, Malik froze when he saw the mark on Mariku’s face, mirroring the one that he had created on his own. A hickey, dark, right on the lower part of his jaw. Seeming to know that Malik understood, Mariku leaned down to lick the spot, and Malik shuddered in repulsion. But when he shoved his tongue back into his mouth, Malik didn’t hold back, and bit down as hard as he could.

Mariku drew away quickly, and Malik shrieked from the pain, blood filling both of their mouths as it dripped down his chin, blood filling Mariku’s mouth as well. It worked, as it got Mariku off of him, and showed him that he would not give in, that he was not a someone who would just sit back and let things happen, but… damn. It hurt.
“You want to know the main difference between you and I?” Mariku glared down at him, blood tainting his lips, marring their naturally flushed color. Moving his head so that he blocked the light from Malik’s view, Mariku’s eyes widened suddenly and he grinned with malice and insanity. “I LIKE THE PAIN!” His laugh distorted and his face demented, Mariku spit the blood from his mouth onto Malik’s face. Before he could even move to wipe it off, he felt something move his arms back and restrict them behind himself at the wrist. A rope, maybe, a fabrication of this universe able to be bent and manipulated at Mariku’s command. Sitting straight up, Malik’s heart beat faster as he tried to inch back clumsily away from him. With his hands restricted, what left did he have to save himself with?

“What’s wrong, little Malik!? Are you scaaaared?” Mariku sung his words out, lifting up at the end and cutting off. Standing up, Mariku towered over him, and Malik cowered in morbid horror. This was it. It would begin now, he knew. “Why? You were acting like such a tough little boy before!” His voice was sickeningly sweet, mocking him, a demented grin on his face. “Why, can’t you stand up and fight!?” Mariku put emphasis on the last word, the sweet tone to his voice dropping as he growled. Lifting his foot up, he kicked him in the side of the head, making Malik fall back, dazed. He was becoming used to the pain… “Get up!” Mariku bent down, pulling him up and hissed into his face, but Malik merely stared dejectedly back at him. That was it. He gave up. He just wanted to wake up… “Fight back!” Malik refused.

Growling, Mariku flung him back to the ground, and Malik thrashed to regain his footing, but it was futile and he fell back harshly, Mariku’s body crushing him down almost as soon as he hit the floor. His eyes were wild, harsh, and he seemed to begin to lose what bit of temper he had left. “If you won’t fight me back, then I’ll just go right ahead! Scream, Malik, cry! This body is mine!”

That still same crazed expression on his face, Mariku’s hands grabbed at his belt, and Malik’s eyes widened when he unbuckled it and threw it aside, landing with a thud on the ground. “M-Mariku!” He was getting scared now. He couldn’t…he wouldn’t seriously… he couldn’t! “It’s too late now, Malik! Six years too late! I’m claiming this body for my own! The rightful owner! I’m going to own you!” Hands fumbling with the button on his pants, Malik screamed, trying to kick his legs up. He had to get away, away, away! He was crazy, crazy! This couldn’t be happening, not even in this world! If his body was his, and it was the same, shared between them, then…Mariku couldn’t rape him.

“What the fuck are you doing!? Are you crazy!!? Get off of me! S-Stop, stop!” His voice wavered, and a muted terror began to build inside of his chest, a dark pit as it ate away at his insides, taking hold of his heart and mind as it plunged him into freezing water. Realization. Terror. Malik thrashed underneath his dark, himself, jerking his hands against their invisible restraints. If only he could get them free!

“Crazy!?” Mariku laughed sharply, his face stretching until it fit back in place with normality. “We’ll see, soon! Soon!”

His hands were smooth, soft as they rubbed against his skin as he fumbled with his pants, but only because they were Malik’s own. Those hands…they were stolen. Stolen as they finally got them unbuttoned, Malik’s heart dropping with the zipper as it was pulled down.

“You’re kidding! You have to be! Mariku, stop it, just stop! You can’t do this, you can’t! It’s not possible!” He had to see the truth! There was just no way that he could possibly go through with what he implied. Or at least…Malik hoped. Mariku paused for a moment, his hands stopping, and he merely looked down at him.

“Well then…” he studied his face, a look of amusement on his own, “I suppose we’ll find out, won’t we?” His hands resumed, and slowly, torturously, he began to pull his pants down his legs, eyes never wavering. “This is my world, Malik. This is the one thing that I have that you have not stolen from me. Who is there to speak up against my will if I am the solid, concrete ruler? Here, I can do whatever I want! And if I want to own you, I can.” On his last word, he pulled down sharply, Malik completely naked, wondering vaguely if Mariku had willed his underwear away out of laziness.

They were still, then, staring back at one another, frozen by fear and locked by hatred. He could feel the air against his skin, all of it, and Malik’s hand twitched. Naked. Malik didn’t dare to move. Mariku finally breaking eye contact from him, his gaze slowly wandered downward, and Malik gulped as he looked at his bare chest and down, down, everything below that. But…their bodies were identical. Surely, they looked exactly the same. Why should he be so fascinated…? Tracing a finger down his chest, Mariku’s eyes flicked back up to meet his own, and Malik began to breath heavily. Fast, fast, he needed oxygen!

“Look at us, look at me, look at you…” Mariku’s voice was no longer loud and grating. He always changed so suddenly… “Look at our body, light. Look how perfect it is. Look at what all you’ve kept from me. So beautiful… this is the only thing that I will ever need.” He closed his eyes, straddling his hips again, and tangled his hands into his hair. Pulling his head back, Mariku leaned over and breathed deeply into his hair. Malik stayed perfectly still, terrified, his heart so loud he feared that Mariku could hear it. It grew quicker and quicker, and louder and louder every instant. It grew louder --louder --louder!

Moving away, Malik sighed internally when he left, although his hands did not. Cupping his face, they traveled slowly down his body. Down his chest, past his ribcage, down, down past his belly button, continuing down his thighs, stopping at his knees where Mariku’s hands rested then. Stroking, they moved all up and down his thighs, his hands behind his back as Mariku continued to stare at him, a malevolent smile upon his face. Closing his eyes, Mariku hummed a little, and Malik was left alone to watch and feel as he touched him. “This is how I feel like, if your skin is mine.” Mariku’s eyes stayed closed, but his mouth did not, and he spoke quietly, a whisper, pleasured expression on his face. “Am I as smooth, as beautiful? Do my knees feel the same, my thighs? Ah…” Mariku’s hands reached the underside of his knee and pressed up sharply, making them both gasp. Indirectly, Mariku was touching himself. Mutual molestation. Narcism.

He groaned, eyes staying closed, and Malik shut his as well. His world was now all touch, the feeling of Mariku’s hands running over his legs, and his body sitting atop his waist. Smooth, their skin connected beautifully, no contrast between cold and hot. No, absolutely the same. And through their connection, Malik could almost feel Mariku touching him, touching himself, touching Mariku in return. The concept was like looking into a mirror with another behind him. On and on his reflection went with no sign of stopping. “Piano, Malik. It has started, but I grew sidetracked. Let’s follow the music that I have written. You play softly now, Malik, not forte. Your screams are for later. I want to hear melody.”

With their eyes closed, Malik could feel. Feel as if he had never been connected to the world at all. Feel as though he was newly born. Feel as though he was…Mariku. “Hmm…” Mariku made a noise in the back of his throat, hands now moving in front of him, to his chest. This made him nervous, worried, and Malik didn’t know what he was playing at. He hated him. It was the only purpose to his life, and declared time after time of his ideas of how he should go about killing him, but yet… here he was, touching him, petting him, stroking his skin, a mutual give and take of touch and suppressed pleasure. He had to have something up his sleeve. Mariku’s hands moving to his chest, Malik gasped when he ran his finger over his nipples, the feeling sudden and sharp. Squeezing his eyes shut, Malik breathed through his nose, scared to open his eyes. Swirling his fingers over them, Mariku groaned above him, making Malik feel sick. He didn’t want to know anything of his pleasure…

It went on for a long time, Mariku’s touches, as they moved down his body, softly, gently, contradicting himself. “I think this is all, Malik.” He hadn’t spoken in a while, and Malik flinched when he did. “Every bit of our body I’ve touched. Everywhere. Oh, but one place I have yet to… I think the music is about to crescendo.” Opening his eyes at the tone of Mariku’s voice, he saw Mariku grinning down at him, his face the embodiment of hell itself. Eyes widening further, Malik choked when Mariku’s fingernails dug sharply into his chest. Digging down, he wouldn’t stop until Malik screamed. He could feel the pain, the torment as his skin was ripped open and the tissue was marred, Mariku’s nails more torturous than any of his illusions could ever be. In one last final attempt to quell his pain, Malik gave in, and screamed.

Loud, loud he screamed, kicking his foot against the ground, struggling, thrashing to get away. Through the sound of his voice that was ripped from him, Malik could hear Mariku laugh in the background as he then began to drag his nails slowly downward down his chest. Pain, pain, pain! His chest was on fire and everything was blurred, Malik’s head thrown back and his cries continuing as Mariku tortured him. Blood seeped down his sides, and couldn’t tell if it was all his or not, because he could feel blood dripping onto him as well. From Mariku’s chest. Give and take, they were connected, but it was Malik who was vocal. He could not hold back the feeling of pain.

“You’re fighting now, eh!?” Gashes, gashes. His hands continued to scrape down his chest, creating rivets of blood to spill down his sides. This was torture, this was anguish, and the feelings took him over. He just wanted it to end! “For your life! Is that wait it takes, Malik!? Pain to get you to respond!?” A particularly loud laugh, and everything went still, Mariku’s hands leaving him, but Malik continued to scream, bucking underneath him. “Well…I think I’ve grown impatient. I can’t wait anymore. The climax of the piece is now! Struggle, try and get away! I want to hear your screams as I fuck you hard into the ground. My body; I will own you!”

Everything seemed lost then, his hope, the life line that he had hung onto that Mariku would surely not go through with this… his rope snapped. Hyperventilating, Malik was helpless, and he felt it in himself, the feeling of not being able to control what was happening, control the situation when Mariku finally moved off of his legs, only to grab them and shove his thighs apart. He couldn’t scream. It was as if he was suspended in time, forced to watch as he would be raped by himself, the thing that he had created. Malik had… never even had a kiss before. He was terrified. It wasn’t supposed to be like this! HE WAS MALIK ISHTAR! And yet, so was Mariku, and…what he willed here, happened.

“Remember this day, Malik!” His eyes were insane, filled with rage and twisted amusement. Mariku undid his own pants.

“Remember how I will take everything away from you, Malik!” His hands were cruel as he pried his thighs apart when he tried to close them. Mariku was already hard, and Malik knew why he had made him scream.

“Remember how I will hold you captive in your own arms, Malik!” His grin was everything that Malik was scared of. Mariku stroked his growing erection, and Malik was able to feel his touches on his own member.

“Remember how I will take this body from you, Malik!” His laughter was filled with hatred and malevolence. Mariku groaned with that same grin as he lined himself up, not bothering to prepare him, not even giving him the decency of fully removing his pants.

“Remember me, Malik Ishtar!” His body was hot as he laughed at the terror that resided on his face. Mariku thrust into him sharply.

And Malik understood how he planned to make him cry.

Searing pain was what he felt then. Pure, unadulterated pain as it rippled through his body, too much friction as Mariku moved into him. Terror, terror, terror! Malik screamed with everything he had when Mariku moved over him, hands slamming themselves down onto either side of his head. His body couldn’t cope with it, couldn’t deal with the thing that was being shoved inside of him, even more so that it was his…own. Mariku was his own, himself. He was Mariku. And he was raping himself.

He pushed in, hard, and Malik sobbed, his back arching, and he would give anything to be away from that place. Away from Mariku, away from himself as he was defiled. Oh, it hurt. So, so bad as he was stretched cruelly without lubrication. But above all else was the feeling of wrongness. This was wrong, absolutely wrong, with every meaning of the word. It was wrong how Mariku groaned in pleasure above him, it was wrong that Malik could feel Mariku’s pleasure, and that he reacted from him. It was wrong how Mariku talked to him, looked at him, spoke to him, raped him, himself, his own body. It was wrong that Malik couldn’t get away.

The only thing he had left, Malik screamed, and would not stop. He screamed for his pain, his despair, and the feelings twisting and churning inside of him. His chest rose and fell erratically, and Malik didn’t notice when Mariku had finally moved in all the way to the hilt. He was still then, but it did not stop his cries of agony, and only more were ripped from his throat as he moved back, every horrible feeling heightened by his own length. He didn’t understand! Didn’t understand how Mariku could be doing this to him. Didn’t he know the pain he was putting him through, the things that he was making him think, jeopardizing everything he thought he had previously known about the world!? And maybe…that was why. Mariku was born of hatred, and he was childish. If he could not have life, then nobody else could.

“Treble, treble! I can feel it all, Malik! I can feel the vibrations of your instrument, our body!” A new wave of agony fell upon him as Mariku thrust back into him, faster, this time, and with more strength. Grabbing onto his hips, Mariku dug his fingers into his skin as he slammed into him, making Malik scream, his throat burning.

It was all hazy, dark, and Malik could feel only Mariku as he thrust in and out and back into him, his virginity eradicated by himself. He was humiliated, shamed, petrified… all at once, and his emotions closed over him. He was drowning in them, the feelings of it all, of the rape, and he was so tired, just like how he had been before. Everything ached. His chest, his arms, his legs, and the place where Mariku was defiling him. Mariku’s body was sturdy against his own as he moved, grinning, always grinning as he owned him. His face was flushed with pleasure, and every so often he would groan, throwing his head back as he thrust harder. And Malik could feel it. Could feel Mariku’s pleasure, could feel the way how Mariku thrust inside of him, the way his body was so tight against his erection, and it sickened him.

Unable to control what was happening, Malik knew he was hard, and it was torturing him. No contact and only rough abuse, he cried out every time he was trust into, his insides burning and his cheeks as well, humiliated, terrified. Every so often when Mariku would thrust into him, his stomach would slide against his erection, and every time he did this, Malik moaned. He hated it, hated it! It was supposed to be terrible, horrible! He shouldn’t be feeling pleasure from this! Something hot on his skin, Malik’s voice hitched up when he realized it to be little glops of his own precum splattering onto his stomach.

“Aha!” Mariku’s head tilted at an angle as his hips moved forward, abusive as they tormented him, the source of his own agony. “You like it, you like it! The audience applauds, Malik! You little slut! I want to hear you scream. Scream, Malik! I’m going to fuck you harder until you do!” His words were disgusting, filthy, and he did just that as he thrust harder into him, making Malik’s head hit against the floor. Hands tied behind his back, he had no support as he was rocked into hard, over and over again, forced to sustain and endure the torture, Mariku’s face above his own, that horrible grin burning into his psyche.

Voice now raspy from abuse, it burned to talk, to speak, to vocalize in anyway, and Malik sobbed when Mariku moved faster. He could not scream, didn’t have the will to, and if he didn’t, Mariku only moved faster, harder, and more cruelly. And faintly, through it all, he began to feel that overwhelming sense of despair, depression as it plagued him. Was that what was building up in his stomach the entire time? Choking on his own breath, Malik was rocked into the floor by Mariku’s body, his body, and when he jerked his hips forward at a new angle, that feeling inside of him spilled over. It was a flash of white pleasure, something inside of him that made him tense up and his toes curl. A sharp moan, and he could hear Mariku moan above him as well. And that was it, that was the boiling point. Pain, he could take. Torment, he could withstand. Terror, he could live through. But pleasure he could not. No, not at the hands of the person who would take everything from him. Unwillingly, Malik lost the night, forfeited it to Mariku as tears slowly began to leak from his eyes. He couldn’t hold it back. He was disgusted with himself.

And of course, Mariku saw him. His expression was beyond pleasure, beyond satisfied as he watched him give in and give up. After all, his descent into despair was what he had worked for this entire time, and drunk in his depression as he cried. Knowing what had caused his sudden and uncharacteristic submission, Mariku moved his hips at that same angle, rocking forward into him, making Malik moan through his sobs. He did it again, over and over, harsh, fast, and it was making Malik delirious. A slave to feeling, he wanted desperately to cum, to have Mariku’s hands, his hands on his erection, stroking him to climax.

“I-It’s the final major.” Mariku’s voice slurred through his pleasure, being able to feel the same sensation as his prostate was hit with every one of Mariku’s thrusts. “Scream, Malik, scream! Remember this Malik!” His twisted face the last thing he was able to see, everything was plunged into blackness.

A sudden surrounding of nothing, Malik gasped, hyperventilating, terrified of the dark, and he twisted, trying to touch something, anything. But Mariku was there. Mariku’s touches were still there, and his hands were still upon his hips. It was horrible irony, then. Mariku, the cause of his pain, his torment, his destroyer, and the thing that kept him from hysteria. Blackness, darkness, nothingness… Malik was scared of the dark, and Malik was scared of Mariku. But it was Mariku who he was forced to concentrate on as he thrust in and out of his body. Able to see nothing, feel nothing, Mariku was his only piece of physical embodiment, even if he couldn’t see him. Forced into a world of nothingness, Malik couldn’t even see himself, feel himself. All he knew was the way that Mariku slowly began to become more erratic with the way his hips moved.

Hitting his prostate over and over, Malik felt heat build and pool in the pit of his stomach near his abdomen, and he cried out every time he was rocked into, not knowing if it was any longer from pain as much from torturous pleasure. He couldn’t focus on just one feeling, instead, they mixed together, homogeneous to his mind. Hands on his face, they were invisible, but he could feel them, and Malik knew that they were his dark’s. They touched him all over as he continued to ravish his body, their body. Cupping his face, he kissed him deeply, and Malik sobbed into his mouth, still moaning each time that he was thrust into. Feeling saliva drip onto his lips when they parted, Malik screamed sharply when something hot scorched his back. It was gone suddenly, just as suddenly as it came, and Malik shuddered, somehow still able to feel the floor underneath him, his restrained arms propped underneath the curve of his back, his head resting right next to a puddle of blood.

Tore from unreality, everything came back in a flash, the gold, the throne, the ceiling, the blood covered floor, and Mariku’s face as he used him for his own pleasure. His senses heightened from the darkness, Malik was torn between the feeling of security for being able to see and the raw terror of having Mariku back with him once again.

“F-fuck!” Mariku groaned, and he gripped his hips sharply, slamming him down onto his erection, Malik beginning to grow numb to any pain he might have felt, his mind warping itself the way that Mariku wanted it. All he could feel now was his building climax and the want to cum. “This is it, light! My masterpiece! The end! Scream, scream loud! Forte forte!”

He knew he was close, knew that it was almost all over, but all he wanted was Mariku’s hands on him. Malik disgusted himself, and yet, he cried out in pain when Mariku lost control of himself and thrusted wildly into him. Fast, fast, fast! It was all he was, the vessel for Mariku’s pleasure, his pleasure directly. That heat building, he could think of nothing else other than how good it felt to have that thing inside of him rubbed against, …and how scared he was. How scared he was to have Mariku climax. It would be like sealing him to his fate. Malik was so scared.

And without warning, Mariku bestowed him with agonizing pain. It was nothing that he had ever felt before, nothing that could ever be described. Nothing human at all. It was not fire, or electricity, or searing pain. It was…what Mariku was feeling. It was Mariku, himself, and everything he had ever lived through. With their bodies so close, with the end coming so quickly, reality was warped, and Malik had direct sight into the thing that was Mariku. It was darkness, worse than the darkness that he had been plunged into. It was a twisted hell that dripped in his mind over and over, moving, swirling into an abyss that had no end and no beginning. Pain. Fear. Sadness. Anger. Hatred. This was Mariku. This was what he created.

Grabbing his erection suddenly, Mariku’s hand gripped him tightly and pumped him up and down, no rhythm, mirroring the way that he was moving inside of him now. Throwing his head back, Mariku moaned again, his eyebrows furrowed. And with one last erratic thrust, Mariku’s expression was void of all hatred. It was the one time that he was free from everything, from the fear of not having his own identity, and from the hatred to how the world had slighted him from his birth. Cumming inside of him, it was hot, and he jerked is hand up suddenly. With that one movement, with Mariku so close to him, sharing his orgasmic haze, Malik came all over his chest. His orgasm was the most intense thing that he had ever felt, and unlike Mariku, it was the embodiment of his terror, his horror, his pain. It burned, it hurt, but it purged him of everything. It was a moment of complete bliss, of complete torture, and he could feel Mariku above him, holding onto his hips, kissing him with intense passion. It was completeness, of Mariku, himself, connecting. Pain, pain, pain. Terror, terror, terror. Hatred, sadness, fear, horror, disgust… It all morphed into one, twisting, swirling, becoming him.

Mariku’s laughter.

And then it was gone.

-

Malik sat straight up, screaming, his eyes wide, a cold sweat covering his face and body, the tell tale signs of tears on his face. His eyes were wild and they darted around the room, teeth chattering from intense fear, and he had goose bumps all up and down his arms. Breaths coming short, he choked up, and dry heaved, coughing. Eyes wide, he stared down at his lap, not recognizing where he was at first. He had just been…- Malik felt sick. Th-That couldn’t have happened. There was no way in hell. I-It was just an illusion. It had to have been.

“Malik!” Light flooding into his room, Malik looked up suddenly, his eyes still wide, petrified. That had all been just too real…

Rishid squinted into his room, eyes not adjusting to the darkness at first before he saw him sitting up in bed. Rushing over to him, he reached out to steady his shaking shoulders. “Malik, I heard screaming! Was anyone here, what’s wrong!?” Looking up at him, Malik did not at first comprehend who he was, still living in that horrible world… “Answer me! …Was it him?” Hands on his shoulders trying to calm him, Malik woke up to reality. Shoving him away, Malik glared, covering up his fear. He couldn’t let anybody ever see him in such a state. Mariku was the only one who could do this to him…

“Did I tell you that you could touch me!?”

“But master Malik…”

“Shut up, I don’t care!” He could see the hurt in Rishid’s eyes, the way he always looked when he yelled at him. Malik couldn’t help it. He had to show the world how strong he was. He had to show the world that he was not weak, that he was not the same person that Mariku made him to be.

Still glaring at him, the façade dropped suddenly, and Malik broke down. His shoulders slumped and his cold expression dropped. He was so tired… but this would be the end. After the finals, everything would turn around, it would start going right. He was almost there… Could almost taste it. Malik could feel it. There was no reason for him to be scared. Mariku could not hurt him. Mariku could not touch him, only in his dreams did he have control over him, when he lost consciousness and his mind went into lock down. Illusions couldn’t hurt anybody. They weren’t real.

“…Malik, are you sure there was no one here?” Rishid looked worriedly down at him, but he did as Malik said and stayed away from him. Malik didn’t really feel like being touched now, after the dream he had just had…

“Yes.” His glare gone, Malik’s voice was still cold.

“Then what is this, Malik?” Confused, Rishid gestured with his hand and Malik slowly lifted a hand up to his jaw. Stomach dropping, he felt a small mark there where blood had risen right underneath his skin. The mark was still there. But…how!? How, how!? Terrified, Malik’s mind reeled. Illusions couldn’t leave physical marks. The only way that Mariku could have touched him was if-…if… He was real. His terror residing in his stomach, Malik leaned over and grabbed the garbage can quickly and threw up. He couldn’t take it, couldn’t take that horrible fear and realization that ate away at his insides. No, no…it was all wrong. He couldn’t be real, he couldn’t! …Could he?

In the back of his mind, Malik heard laughter.

---

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