Title: Control
Pairing: Kahran Ramsus/Citan Uzuki (Hyuga)
Summary: Kahr wants control. Badly.
Rating: R
Warnings: Mentions of non-con and BDSM, slash, adult themes, disturbing imagery. NOT BETA READ.
Author's Note: This was part of a larger story describing the lives of the Original Elements on Solaris. I am uploading it now as part of my fic amnesty project. This fic is, quite possibly, ten years old. Enjoy!
Control
Lunchtime on Solaris. Kahran Ramsus' confident strides carried him through the softly humming halls of the flying city. The noise of motors running and engines firing remained unnoticed, far in the background of his mind. Too many years of living in the engineering miracle made the electronics and machines hardly worth a second thought. Even the flashing lights of panels and the whoosh of sliding doors faded away. Unhindered by the heavy fabric of his uniform, the Element of Air looked the part of a high-ranking Solarian citizen: perfectly blonde with light eyes and strong features. Handsome and strong. The city's ideal. The idea disgusted him.
Approaching from the opposite direction, two of his teammates slowed to greet him in the corridor. Sigurd Harcourt and Jessiah Blanch looked informal and relaxed in training garb, towels slung over their shoulders and heavy bags dangling at their sides. Ramsus offered them warm smiles and cataloged their looks as he paused beside them. He noticed, as he did every time he saw the Element of Fire, that Sigurd's dark skin marked him as a Lamb-Inferior by Solarian standards. Yet here he was, a surface-dweller occupying one of the highest military ranks, living in the First Class quarters and fighting alongside Solarian Elite. He was proof that appearance had little to do with skill or intelligence.
Sigurd readjusted his duffel and fell into a casual stance, the bad-boy charm radiating from his bronze skin even in civilian attire. Beside him, the larger, shaggier, Jessiah crossed his arms over his broad chest and smirked. He was a platinum-haired grizzly bear like those in the old story books. Pure Solarian, but hardly proud.
"Commander. Sigurd," Ramsus pronounced, addressing each in their turn with clear, clipped tones.
"S'up Kahr?" Jessiah all but growled.
"I'm looking for Hyuga, do you know where he is?" He turned his attention to Sigurd hoping he knew the location of his roommate.
"Hyu?" Sigurd laughed, "Let's see…It's lunchtime and all the other Solarians have already eaten or are on their way to lunch. I'd say Hyu is holed up in our room studying and that he hasn't eaten all day."
There was something about the way that Sigurd said "our room" that made Ramsus scowl internally. It sounded so possessive, and not of the room either.
"I checked there first, no luck. Anywhere else?"
Jessiah frowned, his brows pulling down like the thin line of his lips, before asking, "What d'ya need him for?"
Hyuga was concentrated sex wrapped in satin skin and draped in a shining banner of dark, silken hair. But was it wrong? Wrong to want to grab him, toss him down and fuck him so hard he cried? Ramsus knew that it was. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Such a rape was unforgivable. And his skin. God. To corrupt skin like that. Pale as milk and just as creamy. It would look more perfect wet with sweat and red from the friction of bodies grinding together. What a shame that the idea of Hyuga moaning and willing beneath him wasn't as hot as the violent, vivid idea of tying him down and forcing Hyuga to suck him off. He'd look so beautiful with tears down his face and his mouth stretched wide and filled.
It was about power to Ramsus. Of course he wanted to satisfy himself in Hyuga's lean, tight body. But more than that, he wanted the feeling of superiority that came with making it perfectly clear that he was stronger, better. Hyuga's famed intelligence and skill with a sword were nothing in the face of savage, body-breaking sex.
The scene played on in startling detail even when Ramsus closed his eyes to sleep; when he woke, when he ate, every breath he took, in fact. Hyuga squirming, saying "no" perhaps even though his cock was stiff and leaking. Hyuga's legs spreading wide, like a whore's. And Ramsus knew that the closest thing to paradise was deep inside Hyuga. Hell, his pink little opening might as well be called the pearly gates.
But that was hardly an answer to the question.
"I just need to talk to him for a minute," he told his commander instead, marveling that his voice betrayed nothing.
That sufficed as an answer, didn't it?
The library. He should have known. It was the second most likely place to find Hyuga at any given time. The dark-haired Element of Water sat in an overstuffed chair, his back to the entrance and heavy traffic of the library. The top of his head was all that was visible over the back of the chair and Ramsus changed course to approach from the side and get a better view.
What he saw surprised him more than it might have if it had been any other student. Hyuga was asleep. Completely unconscious, sleeping like Jessiah after an all-night bender.
Ramsus chuckled quietly. From the stack of books and papers covered in neat handwriting, it looked like he had put up quite a fight against exhaustion. Put up a fight and lost, Ramsus thought, not without humor. He watched as Hyuga slowly slumped over, his head coming to rest on the arm of the chair. The motion made his glasses slide off the narrow bridge of his nose to rest on the floor next to the chair, unharmed.
Ramsus stealthily neared the chair, stooping to retrieve the spectacles. He picked up the delicate looking frames, holding them between his long fingers and then turned his attention to the resting scholar. Innocence. The word sprang into his mind, seemingly the only one that could accurately describe the peaceful face of the man before him. Innocence.
As if in a dream, he suddenly felt soft locks of dark hair between his fingers, falling over the digits in a cascade, fingertips tingling as they touched clean scalp, the smell of flowers swirling with the movement of his hands through the mane of silky black.
Then Hyuga tilted his head, moving closer to the fingers that ran through his hair. He gave a small moan, his lips parting in sleep and his body snuggling further into the soft cushions of the chair.
The moan tugged at Ramsus in distinct places. It even pulled him forward, closer to soft lips and Hyuga who moaned again and whispered a single word that stopped Ramsus more effectively than if Hyuga had awakened and slapped him. He removed his fingers from Hyuga's hair as if the feel no longer delighted him, as if he were disgusted instead. Restraint made him lay the glasses on the table rather than slam them down as he wanted to.
The same purposeful strides that had brought him into the library took him out and in his mind a whispered name sent him into a silent fury.
"Sigurd…"
Ramsus was left to his fantasies. What else was left to him? From one moment to the next, everything had changed.
Sometimes, once he had Hyuga tied down and whimpering in his fantasy, he used lube. In others, he let the blood coat the tight, tight tunnel that begged to be raped. How Hyuga screamed! This was one of those times. The blood would make it smooth soon enough. Thick leather straps and chains had held the scholar in place last time. But for this occasion, red silk cords bound his wrists and feet to the bedposts, kept him open, exposed.
He liked to mark Hyuga's skin with his teeth. The red scars stood out on his white flesh like hot coals in the dark. Hot coals. Hmmmm…Maybe later, in another dream. Right now, this one was nearly perfect.
It was building in him. Ramsus could hear it in the strangled noises and see it in Hyuga's red, flushed face. The strokes were too hard. Punishing brutal strokes.
And then he heard a whispered name, breathed through perfect lips when the mind was free to roam, branded in his mind forever, and Ramsus' fantasy ended soon enough. Never again was he able to conjure the images that had kept him anxious and aroused and so determined-determined to see them realized one day, if not with such violence, which he doubted the scholar would allow.
He sat in bed, unable to sleep, unwilling to see what his dreams had become. He stared at his hands and imagined delicate glasses clutched in his fingers.
What do I need him for, indeed, he mused to himself and heard the words in Jessiah's voice.
Nothing.
But the hurt edging its way through his body contradicted the lie. He slept poorly, his confidence less than it had been at lunchtime. His dreams were filled with images of Sigurd and Hyuga together, wrapped around each other and sickeningly happy.
Even his dreams were out of his control now. And he needed to get it back. Needed the control that made him master of himself and his dreams and the people around him.
Needed it badly.
End