Shuichi let out a huge great gaping yawn that rippled through his slender body. He smelt something vaguely delicious cooking, his bed was warm, and he had been conscious for 3 minutes already without anybody beating on him, shooting him or forcing him to write engrish trance songs. It was shaping up to be a pretty rad fucking day!

"If you don't get your punk ass in here right this second, I'm giving your breakfast to hobos." Yuki called out from the kitchen. Eager to taste the sweet porridge his lover always made to perfection, Shuichi threw on the clothes that had been discarded in a pile by the bed the night before and hurried through to the kitchen. Except...

SLAM

He ran into the door that Yuki had conveniently closed mere seconds before the pink haired torpedo had emerged from the bedroom. His delicate nose erupted in a fountain of scandalously red blood, that dripped down the door onto the white carpet below. The door opened, revealing an annoyed looking Yuki.

"If you don't settle down, I swear, right now, I will rape you with this spatula."

"Aw, Yuki, you are so loving to your waifu" Shuichi responded playfully, beaming at his partner.

"No. I will do it. Shut the hell up for just long enough for me to get out of the house."

"Where are you going?!"

"That's it!" Yuki said. It wasn't the words that alarmed our hero Shuichi, it was the tone. He shuffled his chair back as Yuki got up, grabbing the spatula from the utensils pot, approaching him, an inky black aura surrounding him.

"Yuki..." He whimpered.

"Be a good boy and it'l go in handle first."

Yuki grabbed his trembling Shu-chan by the neck and slammed him down onto the breakfast table, crushing his pale flesh against the porcelain breakfast dishes. Shuichi elicited a sharp gasp as he felt the microscopic shards of pottery rip through his skin like a knife through butter, forming an abstract pattern of tiny cuts all down his back. "Please, Yuki, don't I-" but before he could form a coherent protest he was greeted by the rather invasive feeling of cold fingers pulling at his ass. "Stop... our breakfast, it'll go cold!"

"Bitches don't deserve porridge." Yuki growled. Shuichi felt the terrifying feeling of unlubed fingers diving straight into his hole before he could protest. He let out a squeak, trying to twist away from his lover's pinching grip. It was then he felt something much, much worse then Yuki's temporary probing. The warm, sludgy feeling of something that was definitely not a water-based lubricant.

"What's that?" Shu-chan asked breathily, still struggling against the iron grip that held him.

"OK, so I lied, bitches do get porridge."

"NO! Yuki! Not there!" He said, as he felt tears well up, trying to force himself to relax. How could the morning have spiralled into such a nightmare? It had only been a moments ago that he was laying happily in his bed of glee, and now he was being taken against the kitchen table with lukewarm porridge dripping out of his asshole.

His nails dug into wood of the table. Breakfast dishes hardly ever made the best type of lube, and he was struggling to relax his internal muscles to allow his lover-turned-assailant to penetrate fully. However, Yuki wasn't going to give him the courtesy of waiting. With one quick, forceful thrust, he tore through the taut muscles, causing Shuichi to shriek like a tortured seagull. Thank the gods that Yuki had thought to soundproof the walls in his apartment. What would the neighbours think?

Yuki withdrew the spatula, now splattered with a gory mixture of blood and porridge, and licked it, his tongue lapping up the pinkish slime that glistened beneath the harsh kitchen light.

"Mm... This is the best porridge I've ever tasted." Yuki all but purred to Shuichi, who was trying his damndest not to burst into tears. "You try some." Shuichi felt the tears burn across his cheeks as the spatula was forced between his soft lips and scraped against his teeth. He clamped them shut, desperate to avoid getting a mouthful of the vile mess. But as always, Yuki was stronger than him. Choking a little as the wooden implement struck the back of his throat, the sickly, cloying taste of the bloody porridge forcing bile to rise into his stomach.

Yuki removed his hands from the spatula in order to take off his trousers, but before Shuichi could react and remove the disgusting thing from the vicinity of his mouth, his arms were pinned to the table. He tried to scream, but the only sounds that came out of his mouth were muffled squeals and squeaks. Yuki leaned over his writhing body, and kissed him gently on the cheek before shoving his cock up his young lover's ass as far as it would go. More tears spilled down Shuichi's face, but Yuki continued ramming into him with the same kind of cold indifference he usually wore.

Eventually, Yuki came violently inside him, his semen stinging the raw wounds that at only been made worse by this second penetration. A gloopy mixture of come, blood and porridge dribbled out of his abused asshole as Yuki pulled out of him.

"I'll be back later. Have this mess cleared up before I get back or it'll be the rolling pin next time."

Shuichi winced, imagining the rolling pin being used in the same way as the spatula, as the door to Yuki's apartment slammed shut. For at least half an hour, he was unable to move, paralysed on the table by a mixture of terror, pain and humiliation. Finally, he was able to summon up the strength to roll himself off the table, and crawl across the porridge-splashed floor to the phone. He dialled a number and waited for two... three rings, until...

"H-Hey... Hiro?"