"Come on… Let me in, why don't you!" the voice behind him says. "Do it. Accept me. Come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, come on."
He could hear the rattle of a broken chain on metal, he could smell the stench of an unwashed body. Haise froze, every hair on the back of his neck raising as a chill ran down his spine.
"Always fighting me… always suppressing me," the voice said again.
"No!" Haise said, balling his fist, his teeth grinding together.
"Let me in," the voice said as the rattle behind him got louder.
He knew better than to turn around, knew better than to acknowledge the presence behind him. The problem was he could easily feel him, he knew he was getting closer.
"You think you are better than me, don't you?" the voice whispered again, closer now.
Grinding his teeth, he could feel as his nails bit into the flesh of his palm. He could not give in, he could not allow this. He needed the being— this presence to go away.
"Oh now you are too good to even answer, is that it, Haise?"
Gasping, his eyes opened, seeing the blackness surrounding him, a cloud of memories washing around him. It made his head spin and his body vibrate.
"Come on, come on! Why do you even try fighting? What good does that do?" the voice said, right behind him now. He could almost feel the warm breath on his ear. A remembrance of a time long ago wanted to flash before his eyes, but before he could grasp it, it went up in smoke. A smoke that lingered around them, licking at this ankles.
"Turn and look at me, look at us," the voice said.
"No!"
"Coward."
A sinister chuckle behind him, close enough the rumble from it fell on his back. The stench even stronger with each breath he took in. He knew he should move away, get out of there, his feet stuck to the floor.
"It is simple," the voice said, this time right in his ear, lips brushing over his skin, "just accept your fate."
Hands on his hips, thumbs rubbing over his hip bone— he should fight, he should run. He should do anything but stand there allowing this. His body would not allow him to move, as if he had no control over it anymore. There were moments when Haise had to wonder who was in control of his body. Was it him or…
"Always thinking too much, trying to shut me out." that voice, a voice so familiar, yet no where he could put his grasp on. It was a voice as familiar as his own. Once he thought he remembered it, it was gone just as quickly.
Hands grabbing at his hips harder, he felt the presence behind him, pressing into his back. As the seconds ticked by, the pressure was more and more. His heart slamming in his chest.
"Stop fighting," the voice whispered, a wet tongue licking at his ear. Fingers pulling at his shirt, cool on his skin.
Biting his lip, he felt the tears well in his eyes. He was fighting, always fighting. He was not even sure why he was fighting anymore. What was the point? The presence was always there, always mocking him, never leaving him alone.
"Haise…" the voice sang in his ears, their hands under his shirt, his skin burning with every cool touch. "Haise…"
"St-stop!"
"Never. You can never rid of me. Have you not learned this?"
Those hands, they dug into his flesh, pulling at him, daring him to fight back.
Fight back! Fight back!
A garbled cry and he was biting his lip again. The buckle to his belt undone as the dirty fingers played with the button.
He was frozen in place, allowing this presence to take him over. A single tear ran down his cheek as the voice laughed behind him.
"So weak, so weak without me, Haise."
His mind screamed what his voice could not. He wanted to push this presence away, he wanted to wash himself from the stench and filth— he wanted to welcome it with open arms.
"Fight all you want, you will never rid of me."
Cool lips on his neck, teeth sinking into his flesh and a cry escaped his mouth. The presence was consuming him, feeding on him— and he was allowing it. Hands pushing his pants down, falling around his knees. Another tear following the trail of the first, he felt the flesh being torn from his neck as his briefs were pushed away.
"Ah, Haise, if only you would make this easy. Come on, come on, come on, come on!"
"No!" he managed to yell out, his fist balled so tight his nails breaking the skin, drops of blood falling on the floor. Moisture of blood from his neck covering the collar of his shirt, he knew he had to fight, he was giving in too easily. Their bodies tightly pressed as the roll of the presence's hips rocked into him. Gasping, he felt the hardness slip between his cheeks.
"No!" he cried out again.
"Yes," the voice whispered in his other ear, licking around the shell of his ear, fingers dancing over his lower abdomen, lower and lower. Blood stained fingers wrapping around his cock, holding it, not moving. "There is no point in fighting, you will never beat me."
"Ah! No!"
"Yes."
The hardness against his bottom, slowly sliding up and down, the breath on his neck sour, the stench only growing with each passing moment.
His stomach turned, his mind swirled. There was no escaping. This presence had him, surrounded him— kept him standing still.
The hand on his cock slowly started to move up and down, making a labored gasp choke out of him. Tears fell easily off his face as the hand continued to stroke and pump, the hardness behind him speeding up as the breath on his neck only grew stronger.
"Say it," the presence said.
"No!"
"Say my name."
"I don't know—"
"—You do!"
The hand around his cock tightened, stroked harder. Crying out, Haise felt his head go back, resting against the presence. His body was giving in, his mind was still fighting, iron walls slamming down the moment something made sense.
Nothing made sense. This made no sense. Any other moment, any other time, his body would listen, his body would fight. It just stayed there, allowing this presence to do as it willed. His chest rising up and down, staggering with each sob.
"Please… no," he whispered.
"Say it like you mean it!" the voice growled at him, thrusting hard behind him, the hands holding him tighter.
His body was not his own anymore. He did not belong to it. There was a brief moment he felt everything was a lie, everything was wrong. There were moments he had a quick flash of something, anything— but then it was gone.
Deja vu someone one once called it. Was that what this was? Was he being handled by a deja vu?
Sobbing out again, his body betraying him, his release splattering to the floor below him, the presence licked at his neck, breathing heavy as their body shuddered behind him.
"Accept me," the presence said before he was pushed to the ground.
Bare knees skinned on the ground, his bloody palm prints smeared. He had to look, look and see who was there. His head would never turn, but now it did.
Nothing, there was nothing. Scrambling, his pants tangled at his knees, Haise hurried to pull them up, hands stinging with each movement.
Where was it? Where did it go?
Maybe he was losing his mind. Maybe.
Feeling up to his neck, he was not sure if it was the blood from his hand or from his neck. He was covered in filth and cum. His hands shook at his side, his vision was blurred, but he was alone.
He was rarely alone.
Kaneki.