"You never thought of anyone else you just saw your pain;
And now I cry in the middle of the night,
For the same damn thing."
~Because of You –Kelly Clarkson~

For once there were no harsh words thrown at him, no orders barked at him or any form of silent treatment as he was used to. There was no violence involved, no pushing or shoving him around or even yanking of his hair. It was too normal, just not something that they would have done.

He was used to the abuse; used to his red-haired boyfriend coming back home with his hair over his heterochromatic eyes, staggering into room and slumping on the couch, barking out orders at him. He would flinch every single time he felt those mismatched eyes of amber and ruby upon, scrutinizing him like the useless person he was and then lashing out at him some more. He tried his best to please, but again it was never enough.

Urgh, sometimes getting a maid would be better, why did I even bother about you spineless creature in the first place?

He didn't mind getting yelled at or even being punch or flung about the room, even if he had to clean up the mess even before he could treat his own wounds and retreat to the couch to cry himself to sleep. The worst treatment came when he would be dragged, usually by the hair into the bedroom, pushed onto the bed and made to strip. Sometimes, he would until he was done; other times, his clothes would be just ripped off uncaringly, with repeated insults thrown at him.

Stupid bitch, can't even get your clothes off properly, why can't you be a good little whore?

He knew the moment he touched him it was all over; the little control that he had left was immediately ripped out of his grasp and he was left to the mercy of the man hovering above him. He had no time to yelp or cry out when his member was grasped harshly and was stroked in quick erratic thrusts. He always tried to muffle his screams (and moans) in the pillows and sheets, but there was always that unforgiving hand that dug into his baby blue locks and yanked him back up so that sharp teeth could piece the tender skin of his throat. The burn of pain as he was thrust into repeatedly again and again, the tender skin on his behind slapped until it was a bright red on his pale skin; none of those could stop his body reacting, the hardening of his cock and the muffled moans and cries that left his swollen lips.

That's right, moan like the dirty slut that you are.

It was never tender with him; everything hurt, everything was a blur and his vision was mostly red, swimming with black spots the moment he was let go and swept off the bed harshly, the carpeted floor softening his fall just a teeny bit. After rasping efforts to gain back his breath and multiple attempts to get up, he just fell on the floor on his side, facing the bed, looking up wistfully at the crown of red hair on the pillows on the bed, the slender body that had just brutally fucked him that lay with its back towards him. It always ended up like that, and he was always forced to sleep on the couch in the room, because it was a better option than the floor anyway.

Who the fuck do you think you are? You don't even deserve the bed, whore, the couch is considered a luxury already, so don't complain you useless piece of filth.

After he had managed to get himself off the floor, he stumbled towards the bathroom, wincing at the new scars on his body and the old ones that had reopened up in the rough process of fucking. He managed to get himself into the shower and after a few failed attempts, finally managed to get the shower on. He winced as the hot water hit his naked body and tried to ignore the pain that flowed through his veins as the high temperature stung his open wounds. After about ten minutes of standing under the stream of hot rain coming from the shower, he dropped to his knees, covered his face in his hands and finally let the tears flow.

Crying? Shedding tears won't do you any good, slut it didn't help me in the first place why would it help you?

It hadn't been like that. His boyfriend used to be caring and gentle; used to buy him flowers and bring him to restaurants and movies for dates. They used to laugh together, and he used to seek comfort in the warm arms of his boyfriend. They never had hate sex before this; it had always been slow and gentle and warm, with them screaming out each other's names as they reached a mutual climax, following by cuddling and whispered declarations of promises in the afterglow of sex. Back then life had seemed so perfect, and he had believed that he had found himself the perfect man to spend his life with.

You want to drop out of college just to be with a man? You gotta be head over heels for him man.

He could still hear his best friend's voice ringing in his ears. They had been childhood friends and worked their way up to college, which led them both have scholarships; his best friend had been accepted on a basketball scholarship while he had gotten in on a literature scholarship. It had been in their second year when he had stepped into the café and found himself face to face with the person who had taken his breath away immediately. The mismatched eyes, the sleek crimson hair that fell casually over his eyes and the cold arrogant look on his face that gave off a "can't touch this" vibe which radiated from his very being. Their eyes had locked and he had immediately looked away in embarrassment and sidled up to Daiki to order their drinks at the counter. After placing his order, he was disappointed to see that the gorgeous man had gone, but with his vanilla shake came a note.

Call me, Kuroko Tetsuya.

With shaking hands, he dialed the number on the note and was pleasantly surprised to hear his called picked up on the first ring and oh, his name rolling out in the most sensual way possible. He was immediately enraptured by the sexy voice at the end of the line and somehow one way or another, he was on a date with Akashi Seijurou. He still remembered being so captivated by the elegant man who just made everything around seem surreal with just his presence alone. He had tried to get this beautiful man to just kiss him after a date that included a five-course meal, an extremely expensive bottle of wine and a sleek black Chevrolet with luxurious black leather seats, but the man had merely smirked down on him with his heterochromatic eyes, a queer quirk of his thin lips and pressed his finger to his lips. He had just melted inside just from the contact.

Sorry beautiful, but I don't kiss on the first date.

They did kiss on the second date, and it was only their fifth date when they had ended up in the bed of Akashi's extravagant penthouse, with the redhead thrusting into him as he let loose a barrage of moans as his wildest fantasies were being fulfilled right there right then. It had seemed like heaven when his lover collapsed on him, his breathing ragged and erratic, pulled him into his arms and whispered the words that he had longed to hear for such a long time.

I love you Tetsuya, you only.

He had never known the full story of how Akashi became who was today. He only knew it involved a gun, drugs, some threatening and also the death of someone called "Shintarou". It had been devastating to his boyfriend, but after learning that he was involved in the dark side of the town, he still had been adamant to leave his side. One day, the redhead just showed up at the door of his apartment (they hadn't been living together yet) and told him with a monotone that he was leaving for Tokyo. Pushing his arms away, he had walked quickly downstairs and the last sight of him was him speeding off in a plain black Audi. He didn't hesitate. He had packed his bags, called Daiki, withdrew all his savings and proceeded to drop out college and take the first train possible to Tokyo.

Is it even worth it Tetsu? But ah heck, I'll do what you want, Satsuki will kill me later.

He had found Akashi a few weeks after he landed in Tokyo, bribing people in the underworld with information until finally, being penniless he ended up at this dingy apartment with faded walls and shitty paintwork, gaping as the redhead glared at him with the barrel of a gun was pressed harshly into his temple. After that moment of recognition, his boyfriend had dropped the gun and he was greeted with the familiar scent of the rich cologne he wore before they ended up yet again, on the bed. Again, he thought that everything would be the same again, because he was back with his love. Little did he know that things would turn out very differently, very different from what he expected.

Tetsuya, I can't bear to hurt you, so please, will you leave now?

He had insisted on staying, and he tried to please Akashi alright. The abuse happened after a week he had moved in, with Akashi coming back with his clothes disheveled, yanking him into the bedroom and forcing him into sex against his will. The next morning, the redhead had apologized and held him and kissed him, and he had of course, forgiven him. However, the second time happened only two days after that incident, and he had pushed against the taller man and begged for him to stop. That only made the redhead even angrier as he rammed him against the wall in the living room of that small worn apartment and fucked him mercilessly, yelling abuse at him. He cried out his name repeatedly, hoping that his lover would come to his senses and realize that he was hurting him, but as Akashi clashed his lips forcefully against his swollen ones and he tasted the cheap alcohol in his mouth, he knew that the Seijurou that had loved him was long gone.

You want me to stop? Hah, you're just a cheap whore who was so desperate for me that you dropped out of college, how stupid can you sluts get?

He still loved Seijurou and he believed that if he could help him, he would get better. He snuck out of the apartment when the redhead went to "work" in the morning and found a job as a kindergarten teacher, which was great for him as it didn't need much qualification and at the same time he loved children. With the job came the money and he spent it all on his lover, buying his favorite food, getting him new clothes, and it soon became a routine, where he believed that he was pleasing his boyfriend. Occasionally, Seijurou returned his efforts and ate with him and curled his arm around him on the bed, burying his face into his hair. However, most of the time, the food and effort were wasted and it ended with him being pounded into the floor, the sofa or the mattress, trying to stop the tears flowing down his cheeks because he knew Seijurou got even angrier when he saw the tears.

Crying again? All you know how to do is cry you damn bitch, now stop sniveling and let me fuck you properly.

He had given up trying to please him then. He continued going to work, wearing long sleeves and high collars or turtlenecks to hide the angry bruises on his arms, wrists and neck from his colleagues and the children. He put a smile on his face to hide the pain in his heart and he forced laughs and smiles when talking over the phone to Daiki. It had become so easy now to put on a mask and show to the world, like he was alright and that dropping out of college to be with his yakuza-involved boyfriend was the best choice of his life. Soon, the money left his hands the moment it reached them; Akashi would demand him to give him his pay and he would disappear somewhere else before coming back, his breath stinking of cheap booze and sex and the violence would start again.

What do you even need money for you useless bitch? Like that pathetic job you have would do you any good, god.

The refined, confident man that he had grown to love was gone, out of his sight and he had come to terms with that fact long ago. However, he still stayed, because deep down inside his heart, he still loved Seijurou with all his being. Besides, there was no point going back now. No point going back to Daiki and Momoi, no point going back to his parents to beg them for forgiveness. He had accepted the fact that his future was long gone, and that the only life he had of him was with Seijurou. How ironic, he had dreamed of walking the aisle down to his beloved redhead, saying the vows with him and reading out his own confession to him, slipping on matching wedding bands and then a simple tender kiss to seal the joining of their fates. He knew that was impossible now; what more of a future he could dream of.

For better, or for worse, for richer, for poorer, for in sickness and in health, to love and cherish 'till death do us apart.

He hates the fact that he still gets aroused even when he is forced into sex against his will. Maybe it's because it's Seijurou, and he's the only person that he has ever loved so deeply, madly and truly. He had given up his bright future to be with the redhead and despite the abuses that are thrown his way, he submits to the redhead, still tries to make him happy. He still moans whenever that perfect cock of Seijurou's is shoved into his ass or into his mouth and he still cries out Seijurou's names whenever he comes hard onto the sheets or onto himself. He likes to think that they are just roleplaying and whenever the angry sex is over, Seijurou would gather him into his arms and kiss him tenderly and tell him he loved him. But the times never came, and he would be left on the floor, covered in cum and tears and hurting from the inside out.

Heh, look at you, coming from just having my cock in your mouth, how much of a slut are you really?

He rinsed the soap off his body and slowly walked out of the shower, drying himself and slumping down beside the bathroom door as he wearily reached out for the first aid kit. After cleaning his wounds and patching himself up, he slouches back into the bedroom, naked except his towel and sees Seijurou looking at him from the bed, his pants still on him, the piercing gaze on him. He dropped his eyes immediately and stood still, clutching his towel tightly as though to protect himself. Squeezing his eyes shut, he prayed to whatever god out there that he wouldn't get beaten again, or even fucked again. If he was going to get more, he wasn't sure if he could stand it.

"Come here, whore."

He winced involuntarily. When was the last time Seijurou used his name? He padded his feet softly across the threadbare carpet and walked quietly and quickly to the bed, reaching the foot of it and at a nod from the redhead, sunk down on his knees, head bowed, waiting for the redhead to say something. He did not expect for the ex-yakuza member to sweep him into a hug and pull him close to lie against the cheap headboard of the creaky excuse of a bed, his face buried into his hair as thin slender fingers, now calloused and rough, stroked his bare chest and shoulder.

"Such a good little pet, you're all mine right, Tetsuya?"

There was it, the usage of his name in about…two years? He couldn't remember. He coudn't answer the question. He knew the consequences that awaited him if he didn't answer it. He shuddered, took a deep breath and got ready to say the answer, but it died in his throat as he stared blankly at the door. Seijurou doesn't seem to notice, playing with the baby blue strands of his hair and licking slowly at the shell of his ear. It has been a while since he had been so affectionate, but still that conscience inside of him bubbled up, telling him that he should go while he can, before Seijurou decides to use him as sexual relief again. Again, he failed to say those words, because he still loves the redhead, so he bit back the words that his conscience wants him to say, and instead chooses to say the words he knows the redhead loves so much, killing his conscience yet again in the process.

"Yes, all yours Seijurou-sama, all yours."

The next day, he woke up to an empty bed. Pulling his clothes on, he walked gingerly out of the room with a pair of long pants and a turtleneck on, flinching as he took in the redhead's presence in the kitchen, the heterochromatic man still naked. He immediately dropped his eyes to the floor and approached the redhead carefully, waiting for the usual to come upon him. He knew that no matter what he did, or what he said, the redhead never took his word for it anymore, because he had to keep reminding himself, the Seijurou he knew was gone, never to come back. He knelt on the floor before the rickety barstool that his lover was perched upon and folded his hands on his lap, waiting for the usual.

"Feed yourself slut, and go that work you do, it's payday right?"

He nodded quickly and drew his head down tighter to his chest, afraid of speaking, afraid that the words that came out of his mouth would betray him. He heard the scraping of the chair against the rickety floor and he smelt the smoke that was from the cigarette in the redhead's lip, and he flinched away from it as Akashi came towards him, flicking the cigarette that was still lit in front of him. He didn't have time to react as his lover yanked him up back his hair and bit his neck harshly and forced him down on his crotch.

"Suck slut, and feed yourself. There's no more food in the kitchen so you better bring some back when you come back. It's all your fault isn't it? Forgetting that there was no more food."

He could only comply, and he knew no matter what he did, he could only obey the orders that Seijurou forced on him. He wanted Seijurou to be happy, he told himself as he lifted the soft cock up and slipped it inside his mouth, applying pressure as the flesh in his mouth hardened. He ran his tongue over the entire length, tracing the vein on the cock and sucked hard, closing his eyes as fingers dug roughly into his scalp and Seijurou began to fuck his mouth. The only he had was a hiss from above before the redhead's seed spilled into his mouth and fingers roughly grasped his chin back and he was made to swallow.

"Swallow whore, that's the food you're getting until your lunch break at your job."

He collapsed on the floor after Seijurou threw him down harshly, wiping his cock on his hair and walking towards the bathroom to shower and dress. Whimpering quietly, he limped towards the sink and washed the semen off his hair as best as he could, grabbed his jacket and keys and ran out of the door to work. He slowed down after the fifth turn, coughing and crying as he stumbled against the cold wall, wiping his tears away. It had always been like this; Seijurou refused to get anything for breakfast every time the food ran out and he would be stuck with only last night's meager meal plus Seijurou's come in his stomach. He coughed twice, checked his reflection in a nearby window and walked to the kindergarten he worked in, plastering a fake smile as he gazed fondly at all the children.

It'll be fine, Seijurou will come back tonight, and it will be fine, like always.

The last thing he expected to hear when he came back, the fear catching up to him as he struggled to grasp the plastic bag properly in his weak fingers was the siren of the police. He gasped as his eyes met familiar dark blue ones, the plastic bag slipping his weak grasp as he recognized Daiki, his source of comfort and assurance over the years. He couldn't help himself as he slipped over the pebbles on the pathway and barreled himself into Daiki's arms, sobbing in relief. Warm, strong arms wound around him and pulled him tight, and a hot breath fanned over his forehead.

"Tetsu! Why are you here?"

He blinked in surprise as he opened his mouth to answer him. I live here that's why, but something stopped him as he realized that Daiki was wearing his police uniform, and that he was on duty, which explained the blaring sirens behind him. He blinked vaguely and the word stuck in his throat as he took in all the other uniformed men armed with guns and batons, their eyes locked on the door leading to the entrance of the building that he lived in. The fear started to build up in his throat and he snapped his gaze around him, looking for a redhead.

"Tetsu? Eh, why are you so skinny-oh! Shut it boss, I know I know, the job!"

He didn't register when Daiki had let go of him and he stumbled to the ground, weak from fatigue, pain and hunger, but Daiki's arms caught him and there was shouting in the background. He was lifted onto a stretcher and saw the blurred image of a young brunette with glasses peering intensely at him. He reached up and murmured Daiki's name and he appeared immediately, grasping his delicate hand carefully in his big one.

"Why are you here Daiki?"

"I'm here for a job." Duh, Captain Obvious. He struggled to speak, but a loud voice blared across the street.

"Men, he has been confirmed dead. The target has taken his life. I repeat, Akashi Seijurou, case file number #201346 has committed suicide and is dead!"

The fear hit him as he heard his lover's name and he pushed himself up, ignoring the shouts from behind. He barreled through the thong of police officers and forced himself into the elevator and clicked the button for his floor immediately. Daiki managed to get in beside him and glared at him indignantly, clutching his chest due to shortness of breath.

"What the hell Tetsu?"

"Seijurou is my lover!"

He all but screamed at Daiki, rendering him speechless and rushing out of the elevator the moment the door opened onto the floor that he lived on. He burst into the apartment and was immediately thrown back by two officers clad in dark blue. Ignoring their attempts to hold him back, he screamed and struggled, trying to fight with his weak body. It couldn't be, Seijurou was strong, Seijurou wasn't dead, Seijurou wouldn't kill himself, Seijurou would still be there…

He vaguely registered shouting and barely recognized Daiki's voice amongst the throng and suddenly, he was on his knees, staring at the blank face of his heterochromatic lover. Blank amber and ruby eyes stared unblinkingly forward, the blood that splattered behind his head formed a halo around the crimson tresses. He still looked like the elegant, charming man that had effortlessly stole his breath away at the café. Except this time, he wasn't moving anymore, his smirk seemed glued to his face as he lay spread-eagled on the worn carpet of their small dingy apartment, the silver gun that had taken his life laying loosely in his left-hand. His lips quivered as he gazed upon the still face of his lover, wait, correct that, ex-lover.

"Seijurou…Seijurou! SEIJUROU!"

He was screaming his voice hoarse as he tried to lunge forward at Seijurou's body, trying to hold him one more time, trying to check that he was still alive, trying, just trying to see if he could get Seijurou to look at him once more. How ironic, it was pretty much the physical embodiment of his daily thoughts, trying to get back the Seijurou that he knew he loved; the Seijurou that he knew loved him. He cried and he fought, and he didn't even realize that Daiki had come up behind him and pulled him away gently, trying to sooth him with gentle words while speaking into his intercom at the same time, calling for someone named Wakamatsu. He beat Daiki's chest in protest, his weak arms flailing in a pointless effort of trying to push Daiki off; to get back to Seijurou's side.

You don't understand Tetsuya…I'll hurt you, I'll hurt myself. And to be honest, I rather hurt myself then hurt you.

Remember, Tetsuya, no matter what I do to you, please remember that I loved you once. You were once loved by me, and you are the only one I have ever loved.

I love you Tetsuya, so won't you please, leave me?

A/N:

Huzzahhh guys! Just a teeny AkaKuro oneshot for Chii (shirodaa on Twitter) before I go into full exam-Saiyan mode! I understand, Akashi seems a little OOC here, but I basically made him a yakuza who had been defeated and stripped off his power and basically goes deranged without the power in his hands. This is also my first attempt at smut/sex and I hope it's okay D: I don't think it's one of my best, but I hope you guys can fave/review this and give me your opinion!

I will go into full-exam mode after this and after my Midyear exams, I will finally reply all my reviews which I have not! Honestly I feel like such a bastard for not thanking my reviewers, but I will find the time to do so after midyears finish mid-March. Look forward to my other fics as well as the continuation to "Ashes Relit" and "Purple Lilacs"!

Danke! /bows

/runs off before pre-exam stress catches up with me