A/N: My gratitude goes out to silberstreif, louisestarfly, and ArtistofLight for your thoughts and observations – you make me smile from ear to ear knowing that you are enjoying the revamped story. And thanks to the others who've put the story on alert – you know who you are. I've been pleasantly surprised at how many visitors the first two chapters have gotten – from many countries, too! Warren fans have always seemed few and far between, but the stats tell me there are many scattered across the globe.
And yes, Physician Daz is new. His role, though, is a single performance as his appearance served its purpose, and so he gracefully takes his bow and exits the stage. Also, I did notice how his accent came through on the word "as." Brought a smile to my face as well, ArtistOfLight. Had it leave it, though – was one of those little things that I wondered if anyone would pick up on.
And the votes are in – I'll try to update two or three times a week.
Okay, here we go with the third chapter – it is not a good one for our Warren…
- - - - Mature Subject Matter Warning - - - -
Chapter 3
Ztar viewed the scene between Sukja and Archangel with admiration for both men. Sukja's skill was unmatched in companion matters. He was handling the Human brilliantly. Archangel's initial shock seemed to be passing quickly. 'A good sign,' he felt. It reaffirmed his decision to negotiate away control of the far-flung planet for the uniquely desirable individual. Tonight, Ztar would have what he had been anticipating with growing excitement.
###
Warren showered and put on the clothes Sukja had laid out. His X-man uniform would be cleaned and returned, the attendant promised. The new clothes fit perfectly – snug, but not tight. The outfit resembled sophisticated loungewear, with one modification. To allow for his wings, the top had a generous opening in the back. The fabric behind the neck and below the wings met at a seam in the center that fastened closed without any visible method. 'Alien Velcro?' Warren wondered. There was no front opening. Both the top and slacks were incredibly soft and smooth, in a deep, crystal blue.
Sukja left once Warren was dressed saying he had duties to attend to. The routine of showering and dressing had made him feel stronger by focusing on something, yet as soon as those tasks were complete, thoughts raced. Over and over he reminded himself what was at stake. 'Don't do anything stupid. Just hold on for rescue...that's all you have to do.'
Warren did not know how things would play out. Sukja had simply stated Ztar would visit him later and offered no details. The unknown and empty waiting were excruciating. Too many scenarios played out in his mind. Warren was making himself ill. He needed another distraction.
Spying the computer, he decided that'd be the perfect diversion. He sat at the desk and tried to figure out how it worked, finding voice command was the key, and allowed exploration to fully occupy his troubled mind. And when Ztar's words would creep in, he refocused on the computer. Each time his imagination began to create scenes of what his immediate future might bring, Warren shoved them aside.
The time was punctuated with frequent visits by Sukja during what felt like late afternoon, but Warren had no idea how time passed on the ship. During one visit, the alien brought a prepared meal, but he couldn't bring himself to eat. He tried knowing his body needed the calories and energy, but it only made his stomach rebel. After what seemed like hours, Warren noticed that the lights had gradually dimmed. Evening?
###
Once his responsibilities were finished for the day, the Emperor commanded Sukja to his private chambers.
"You summoned me."
"I gather Archangel is settled in?" Ztar inquired using the euphemism they had shared for many years.
"Yes, Emperor. I believe everything is in place for this evening."
"Good!" Ztar said with enthusiasm that Sukja hadn't heard in a long time.
"I will take my leave then, Emperor, unless you need anything further." Sukja said with a small bow and turned to exit his ruler's chambers.
"Wait." Ztar commanded. Sukja turned back. "I will not go easy on Archangel this night, Sukja. I have waited too long for someone like him to hold back."
Sukja felt a stab of concern for the Human. "I will attend to him after," he assured the Emperor as he exited.
In his chambers, Ztar readied himself. Over the past three days, he planned what he wanted from the first encounter. There would be nothing sensual about the coming night; he did not fool himself. Long pent up desires needed to be sated. Knowing he was far stronger than the Human, even accounting for what he'd learned telepathically of the mutant's strength, handling Archangel would not be that difficult. But because Archangel was an experienced warrior, Ztar would use telepathic influence, applying only enough surreptitious control to ensure Archangel did not cause injury. Although, as toughly built as Ztar was, it would be difficult for the Human to do any real damage.
When Ztar silently entered Archangel's suite through the door joining their chambers, the Human was at the desk at the opposite end of the room. He waited patiently for the man to notice him, enjoying the anticipation.
###
Warren sensed a presence and turned to see Ztar at the mystery door. His heart jumped and then began pounding. He didn't know what to do, so he stayed seated, eyes locked to his abductor, dread growing by the heartbeat. Ztar was no longer in his Emperor's clothes. In fact, he was dressed similarly to Warren. The man seemed even bigger than Warren remembered. Muscular, solid, broad, Ztar stood with the air of a man who got what he wanted…an imposing figure of power and supremacy.
Sukja's blunt warning rang in his head, "You will do as Ztar wants. That is your new reality… He will do as he has promised if you defy him. Your world will be crushed like dozens of others…" And then the words he'd been fighting down all day rolled through him like a physical shockwave, "What I demand from you, Archangel, is your body…in my bed."
As Ztar stepped closer, Warren suppressed emotion as best he could. There was no fight, no flight – he was trapped. 'Dear God, please let me be wrong about what's going to happen.' An errant shiver traced through his body.
Ztar's keen sight caught the quiver – mostly the wings gave it away. Even that small physical reaction heightened his building desire. 'You are mine at last,' Ztar relished to himself and closed the remaining distance between them. By the time he reached Archangel, the Human had scrambled to his feet and was backing away. In a lightening quick move, he grabbed an arm and dragged him close, simultaneously wrapping his other arm around the small of the back, pinning one arm to Archangel's side. He saw fear in the blue eyes and it aroused him further.
"Let me go!" Warren demanded into Ztar's face as he struggled to wrest free. 'God, he's strong!'
The remembered words of warning lost meaning as fear escalated. Instinct took over and Warren fought against the alien's grasp. The Turzent was incredibly powerful, but he managed to break one arm free. Or did Ztar allow it? Looking for a vulnerable point, Warren brought his fist up toward Ztar's head hoping to break his nose. Then in mid motion, Warren couldn't think what he had wanted to do and he missed the target as the alien head dodged. 'Huh?'
Ztar took advantage of the confusion he had induced and lifted Archangel by the waist and hauled him in a few long strides to the bed. In one smooth motion, Archangel was prone and trapped beneath him. Ztar brought his mouth swiftly down on Archangel's.
"No!" Warren snarled, managing to escape Ztar's mouth. 'God, please, not this!' he implored the heavens, falling into a jumbled mess of panic and rage. He pushed against the alien's shoulders, but couldn't budge the man.
"Get off me, bastard!" Warren yelled as Ztar came down on him again for another savage kiss, the alien's mouth crushing his lips.
Try as he might, Warren couldn't focus his thoughts to form any defensive moves. 'What in God's name is going on? Why isn't my brain working?' Then an arm shoved its way beneath Warren's back and wing. A hand grabbed a wing edge and squeezed hard. Warren gasped, giving Ztar an opening and his tongue forced its way into Warren's mouth. Instantly, he thought to bite the invading organ, but found he couldn't make his jaw worked. 'What the hell?' Twisting his face away, he tried to free his mouth.
As the one hand moved from the wing and fisted itself painfully in his hair to hold his head still, another snaked down between their bodies to his groin and Warren stiffened at the massaging contact. 'Mother fucking son of bitch!' Warren gagged as the alien's tongue probed deeper. In a reflex move, he landed a fisted blow to the side of Ztar's head. As Ztar jerked back in surprise, Warren was going to follow through with a palm punch to the chin, but again his thoughts were disrupted.
'What the hell is wrong with me?' Warren's stomach was about to lose it contents.
Rising up, Ztar grabbed Archangel's clenched hands and pinned them down on either side of his head atop the wings. Despite the surprise to the side of his head, Ztar was actually enjoying the struggle. He smiled down. But perhaps a little more mental control was in order.
Warren felt an odd sensation in his head similar to a mental touch by Xavier. For a brief instant, he thought the Professor trying to contact him, but the next instant brought recognition that it was a different mind. 'Shit! Ztar's a telepath!' Realization hit him like a punch to the gut. It explained everything – he was such an idiot!
"Good, Archangel. Your mind is quick," Ztar said down to his captive and descended upon Archangel again, but with firmer control.
Warren's mind became mushy and dazed; cohesive thought was difficult. He recognized the signs – mind control. Then things started happening to him that he couldn't prevent. Powerful hands tore away clothing, ran down and over his body. Wings spread wide to be painfully explored; tracings of pain following the roving fingers. Ztar's mouth on his, tongue probing deep.
Warren tried desperately to orchestrate some sort of defense, but thoughts were half-formed and sluggish. He attempted to knock the hands away, but was blocked. He tried to avoid the alien's mouth without success. He fought to pull wings in tight, but was not allowed. Kicking and punching thoughts never translated to action. Body and brain refused to coordinate on any level.
"Get off me! Don't do this!" he managed to yell between the crushing kisses, but Ztar didn't even bother with a response. 'Oh god, oh god. Not happening. God…no!'
Ztar was in bliss! Archangel's body was beyond anything he had imagined. Everything about the Human was designed for sexual bliss. Smooth, firm, flawless…ethereally beautiful and sensual. Silken feathers that hinted of wild animal. The very scent of the creature was erotic! Every seductive touch and sight; each delicious smell and taste drove him to want more. Ztar went into erotic overload from the intensity of the sensation and lust. He would merge with the incredible being; experience him fully, completely – he'd not leave one millimeter of the man untouched.
He assailed the exquisite body with new intensity. He was rough, savage. Ztar did not check his strength, did not hold back. Mental probes had told him Archangel's amazing healing capacity made him nearly indestructible. He could enjoy himself without fear of permanent or fatal injury. To know that Archangel would mend so quickly, so effectively, was incredibly freeing.
/ Never…anything like this! Give to me, Archangel! / the Emperor demanded, pressing the command into the Human's mind as he bit Archangel's neck deeply, skin breaking beneath the powerful teeth. Archangel cried out.
"You d-don't…have to…do this!" Warren stammered, vocalizing nearly impossible as Ztar's control tightened.
He allowed Archangel to struggle only enough to make things interesting. When Ztar demanded a kiss, he used psychic control to open the sensual mouth. When he desired to sink his fingers beneath and through the feathers, he forced Archangel to spread the glorious wings wide.
Powerful hands slid over wings and fingers slipped between delicate feathers. "Don't! No!" He tried folding them in once again, but the telepath prevented it. He disliked anyone touching the sensitive appendages and rarely permitted more than a brush across them. Just two people in his life had he allowed more than that and even then only occasionally. Now a stranger – an alien rapist – dug fingertips deeply between feathers and combed through to their tips, sending shivers and tremors through wings and body.
Ztar continued to explore the wings, probing and squeezing along their span. Telepathy revealed how much Archangel hated the fondling, but it mattered not. Like a trembling, wild creature, Archangel's helplessness beneath him excited the Turzent, adding fuel to the inferno that was his lust.
Warren tried every maneuver Xavier had taught him to break free from Ztar's mental hold to no avail. Failing that, he tried to shut out what was happening, but that escape was also blocked. Warren's hands clenched the bedding against the horror, the only place Ztar would allow him to grab. His world shrank to only the pain pummeling his body.
"Stop, please – just….stop…"
Ztar did not ease up at the plea nor did he rein himself in. For far too long, he had been forced to hold back for fear of substantial injury or even death of a bedmate. No longer. He could take what he so desperately wanted and Archangel would heal. Ztar shuddered from the fulfillment of needs long denied. The hungry beast within finally felt satiety. 'Waited so long for this!' Ztar couldn't get enough fast enough. All he wanted was more and still more, until Ztar thought he might be incinerated by a desire that exceeded any he had known.
Exploring every inch of Warren, unchecked strength left bruising wherever his assailant's hands roamed, and they roamed everywhere. His highly sensitive wings screamed under Ztar's powerful onslaught. His entire body throbbed and intense ache stabbed to the bone wherever Ztar's hands squeezed and massaged. Warren's body writhed. Would it never end? There was only physical pain, mental anguish, and the alien.
'Don't let this be real!' Pain, terror, and shame engulfed Warren as the brutal attack continued.
Ztar wasn't sure how long he devoured the amazing creature – an hour, longer? He didn't care. All he knew was this is what he had longed for, and now it was his. His and his alone. Ztar was nearing climax and he readied his bedmate.
/ I will have you! / Ztar declared in lust-induced fever.
Warren knew what was coming as Ztar positioned his body…the last way in which Earth's Angel hadn't yet been violated. He was powerless to stop it. A dread seized him that he not known before.
/ Don't – no… / he begged the telepath. / Not that! /
Ztar's natural lubrication meant there was no need for anything artificial – one of nature's adaptations of Turzent physiology that allowed for easy same-sex partnerships. But Archangel's anatomy required gradual penetration to accept the Emperor comfortably. Preparation was a luxury for another time. Ztar wasn't a patient man – Archangel would heal.
'No! Not this. Oh god!' Warren struggled with new desperation to break free of the mental shackles. 'Can't…fight…'
Then Ztar took Archangel hard and deep, ramming his large presence into his captive with a single, powerful thrust. His body shook from the delirious feel of plunging into the man – hot, tight, clenching. Thoughts no longer formed as carnal drives took control, and he surrendered to it with wanton abandon.
"No-o-o-o!" Searing, tearing pain shot through him as the alien forced himself inside. Ztar had penetrated where no one had and it felt as if he was being split apart. Warren no longer cared if he screamed, and cries echoed each excruciating thrust and retraction.
/ Please! / Warren's soul shrieked in despair. / S-stop! /
It was an eternity to Warren – tearing flesh, stabbing pain; the feel of the alien invading deep within. 'Pain – so much – God, please…' Too much agony, too much horror – his mind pulled into itself. Then physical numbness began to blanket him, bringing some semblance of relief.
Again and again, Ztar rammed into his bedmate, oblivious to everything but the overwhelming sensation of building to climax. Hard and deep, faster and faster, he thrust into Archangel, making up for all his disappointment from an endless line of bedmates that could not satisfy. All the long years he had to hold back. The countless nights of frustration when sexual need went unmet. Finally, he could throw restraint to the wind and at long last be fulfilled. Ztar did not stop until he had shot hot liquid deep within the man he claimed for his own and was utterly and wholly spent.
With desire replete, he laid atop his conquest, both men covered with sweat and breathing coming in gasps. Archangel trembled violently under the Emperor; eyes squeezed shut. As Ztar recovered, he gently stroked a wing with one hand and gazed into the flawless face contorted with pain.
Warren kept his eyes closed tight against the throbbing and burning permeating his body and the man responsible. Aware the rape had stopped, but little else, he drifted in a pool of pain and mental numbness. Consciousness had nearly left him from agony that swallowed both body and spirit.
Ztar gazed at his beautiful possession. 'Never in my fantasies could I have imagined anything more wondrous.' He ran his fingers through the damp, golden hair.
"This was worth all the years of frustration; all the years of waiting. You're mine now, Archangel," he whispered.
Archangel. His Archangel. Ztar liked the name. Before leaving the Earth system, he ordered the intelligence gathering arm of his military to begin mining Earth's computer data. In a specific request, he asked for the definition of the mutant's moniker. Ztar learned that many of planet's religions believed in angels, the Earth equivalent of the Turzent's legendary Esserru. Ztar liked everything the name Archangel connoted. Naturally, the Emperor found Archangel's given name in his mind, but Ztar didn't care for it. Archangel fit his captive perfectly – he would keep it.
Still breathless, he whispered, "You did well." Slowly, sensually, he slid a palm down a trembling wing. That small thing threatened to reignite his desire, but the Human needed time to mend. 'In the future, you can take him more than once,' he promised himself. Ztar was a man fully capable of multiple orgasms.
Warren's mind was too numb to form a response; his body too exhausted and painful to move. All he wanted was to be unconscious and oblivious. 'Please, let it be over,' he prayed.
Ztar heard telepathically. "We're done. Rest now." With that, Ztar left the bed, strode nude across the room and exited, but not before telepathically summoning his attendant to Archangel's side.
###
Sukja was in Archangel's room within moments. He said not a word, but went directly into the bathroom and turned on the shower and dialed up the room heat. The Human would be in shock. If Sukja's experience was any indication of what to expect, Archangel would want to wash away all scent and remnants of the event. The shower would be ready when the man was ready.
Silently, he approached the bed where Archangel had curled into a fetal position, wrapped only in the white wings held tightly against him. He was shaking. Bruises marred the beautiful body. Blood stained the bedding. Sukja's chest tightened at the sight. 'Ztar, if only…' he shook his head at thoughts of how much more difficult the Turzent had made Sukja's job.
Ztar had told him of Archangel's miraculous healing ability, and he assumed it was reversing the consequences of the Emperor's unbridled lust. What he didn't know was how long to leave Archangel lay healing. He hadn't thought to bring a medical scanner. He could have one delivered, but would do without and judge progress by observation. Gently, he sat down on the edge of the bed to watch quietly. He didn't touch Archangel. He would just be there; a gentle presence so the Human would not be alone.
Warren's mind had pretty much shut down. Only pain registered. It engulfed him. He let it. While he drifted in and out of awareness, his body repaired itself. Internal injuries from Ztar's savage penetrations were top priority followed by the more superficial wounds. Injuries of the mind, however, were beyond his healing factor's reach.
Sukja watched with awe as scratches and bruises disappeared. 'Amazing,' he thought. Sukja waited patiently as Archangel mended. Not knowing if the worst injuries healed first or last, he chose to assume the former. All outward signs of trauma had disappeared. Mental trauma also needed to be addressed quickly less Archangel's mind turn inward permanently. Sukja felt it was time to stir the man.
"Archangel," he whispered. "It's Sukja. I'm here."
No response.
"Archangel, I need you to get up."
Warren heard a distant voice, but couldn't really understand the words. He wasn't sure he cared enough to try. All he wanted was to drift away and feel nothing.
"Archangel, you need to move." The Human was still curled in a ball, often a sign of psychological trauma – he would need to proceed carefully. Sukja decided to risk a soft touch to nudge the Human to full consciousness. That was a mistake.
Warren's body registered the contact. His mind leapt to another brutal time. He was in Apocalypse's lair. Physical agony was all-consuming as his body adapted to the horrific transformation forced upon it. The supermutant touched him and Archangel had lashed out at the source, leaping at the throat of his tormentor with murderous intent. That time, his action resulted in nothing more than being batted aside like an insect.
Not so this time.
'Kill!'
The attack came with inhuman speed as Sukja and Archangel went flying across the room, careening into the sitting area sending furniture and accessories scattering in all directions. They hit the floor hard and the air shot from Sukja's lungs. Archangel landed astride Sukja with the man's neck in a stranglehold to squeeze the life out of his assailant.
Collecting himself despite his vulnerable position, Sukja quickly realized Archangel was only semi conscious. Sukja struggled to pull the hands from his throat, but Archangel kept his death grip. Sukja was no weakling himself and well-trained in self-defense. A hard knee thrust against the Human's back and a sharp chop to the throat and Archangel released. That was all Sukja needed to throw him off. The naked Human hit the floor to Sukja's side.
Everything went still. Sukja didn't move. Archangel simply lay where he had been tossed for many long seconds. The first thing to move was the wings, creating a soft rustling as they drew tight to the lithe form. Then ever so slowly, the Human sat upright, the trance-like state at least partially broken. Sukja followed suit.
"You move with remarkable speed," Sukja said, massaging his neck. Archangel looked at him with dull eyes, but did not reply.
Sukja stood. The Human remained on the floor, watching Sukja's movements with disinterest.
Warren's mind was a jumbled mess with memories of Apocalypse intruding on present horrors. Old and new emotions of shame and self-loathing entwined. As recollections of the rape tried to form, he instinctively blocked them. His mind preferred to remain numb in self-preservation, causing everything to be hazy and unreal.
"You probably want to bathe – the shower is running. It will do you good," Sukja advised. He wondered whether to hold out a hand to help the Human to his feet, but decided against it.
With no thoughts of his own to tell him what to do, he let the Turzent guide him. In a dreamlike state, Warren followed the promptings – a shower, toweling down, fresh clothes. Then he curled up on the window seat and fell into coma-like asleep.
###
It was many hours before Warren emerged from depths his mind had run to. Rather than being confused about his surroundings as last time, he woke knowing where he was – his chambers on the Imperial cruiser. The knowing was no comfort.
His mind was again clear, but that had its drawbacks. Thoughts were quick to return to the events of the previous evening. His stomach revolted and he made a dash to the bathroom to vomit. The physical response to his revulsion actually seemed to help. As he sat on the floor recovering, memories of the rape kept taunting and threatening, but as quickly as they surfaced, Warren forced thoughts elsewhere. Avoidance is a good survival technique.
'God, feel dirty!' He needed to shower again – vigorously. He rose, stripped, and attempted to turn on the shower, but the controls defied him.
'What the hell? Why won't this work? Should be simple!' He slammed a hand against the water controls in frustration. Emotionally raw, he had no patience to figure out the bathing facilities.
'You're a mess, Worthington. Collect yourself.' With a deep breath followed by a long, steady exhale, he pulled himself together as best he could. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he exited the bathroom. 'Let's at least keep our sanity or some semblance thereof,' he told himself. It was then he noticed the slight shaky, queasy feeling that told him he'd gone too long without food.
A glance out at the windows showed they were still moving in FTL mode. Then it hit him – were they headed for Ztar's planet, or did Ztar live permanently in space? 'Can't live in a tin can!' his soul shrieked. 'If there's a God, please let that not be the answer!' The physical reaction to sudden distress was a rapid drop in blood pressure with the accompanying faintness. Warren bent over at the waist.
'Get a grip, War! Ask before going off the deep end. Right now, think about something…anything else. Just hang on 'til the X-men find you.' The faintness eased and he slowly stood upright.
'Food! That's good. Need to keep up my strength,' Warren redirected. Souped up metabolisms require caloric intake on a regular basis and some of the wooziness was due to a lack thereof.
Deciding to dress first, he pulled out clothes from the wardrobe at random. He did notice his X-man uniform was back, neatly folded in one of the cubbyholes. Then he saw the bed was also made and the mess from his vaguely recalled attack of Sukja was no more. It distressed him that someone – Sukja? – had cleaned and he hadn't wakened.
Rummaging through the kitchen, he found it stocked. Some things were obvious as to their nature; other items would need explanation. Warren did find a box of cracker-like wafers that proved bland enough for his stomach to tolerate. 'Coffee would be wonderful right about now!' Nothing in the kitchen resembled the elixir of life, as he and Beast liked to refer to it. 'That will need to be rectified.'
He jerked. 'Don't do that!' he chastised himself after realizing what he had thought. 'This isn't permanent. The Prof will find a way.'
Habitually, he glanced at what likely was a clock on one of the control panels, but being as yet unfamiliar how Turzents measured time, he couldn't say if it was morning or afternoon. 'Damn aliens!' he snapped, while munching on a cracker at the dining table. His mind drifted. Mistake. Sudden flashes of the previous night sprang up to the fill the void. Hands, touching, probing. The alien mouth – suffocating. Helplessness. Pain. Can't fight! Heart pounding. Panic! Penetration. Pain.
"Arrrgh!" The cry broke out as he gripped his head and gasped for air, trying to stop the flashbacks. 'Breathe…just…breathe!' One shaky breath in, out slowly. Another…in, out. 'Divert your mind – think of something else.' More breaths, deeper. 'The aerie – flying with the eagles. Soaring…happy…free.' He relived the feel of crisp mountain air flowing over his wings and body. Heard the piercing call of the white-headed raptors. He knew them – named them, his brothers and sisters of the wind. Wanbli. Keneu. Wehali.
Breathing steadied. Heart slowed. He dropped his hands to the table and rested his forehead on his crossed arms. 'God, how will I survive this? Will Ztar come every night? Will it always be that bad?' More deep breaths in and out. 'Trauma. Suffering from psychological trauma. Distraction. Need distractions.' Sitting up, he felt light-headed and nauseous. He swept the crackers off the table in sudden agitation. 'What's the matter with you, Worthington? You were raped. It could have been worse. Could have ended up in a lab – a science experiment. Maybe turned into some twisted monstrosity like Apocalypse did. An alien has sex with you and you're falling apart? Suck it up!'
He got up harshly from the table, not caring that his wings knocked over the chair. 'Son of a bitch raped you, he didn't kill you. It was just sex! Forced, yes. Painful. Yup. But just sex!' The pacing began without conscious decision. 'What's getting to you so bad?' Images overwhelmed again without warning. Fingers in feathers, wings spreading wide as the telepath controlled him like a puppet. Mouth opening to offer itself to his attacker. Helpless. Hands squeezing with bruising strength up and down his body, caressing private areas. Pain trailing wherever the alien violated. The room whirled. Warren dropped to his knees, palms to the floor. "S-stop!" Pinned down by invisible restraints. Defenseless. Legs splaying to allow the final violation. 'N-no-o!'
His stomach rejected the crackers.
Warren sat on the floor for a long time, tears trailing down his cheeks, but he did not sob. Numbness was spreading through him as it had earlier. 'Just turn off, that's good,' he concluded with growing detachment. Then he wondered if female rape victims felt the same things he was feeling. Or was it different for them? Worse, maybe? But he was a man. How are men suppose to react to rape? The same? 'You hardly ever hear of men being raped.' He'd heard it said once that men rarely report the crime – too ashamed. Men aren't supposed to get raped. Men are supposed to be able to fight off attackers. Besides, it is just sex.
'Right.' He said sarcastically and rolled cautiously to his feet. 'What I'm feeling has nothing to do with the sex part. No control. Powerless. Violence. Violation. Humiliation. That's what it's about!'
He walked to the sink and rinsed his mouth of the aftertaste of vomit. Something, anything was needed to keep his mind focused until rescue came. Then inspiration came. He could learn the alien's language. That was something concrete to occupy time and blot out unwelcome memories too painful to keep reliving. The endeavor would be helpful in multiple ways. Yes, he'd concentrate on learning Ztar's language until the X-men came. He'd ask the attendant about it.
Warren pulled himself up short. Sukja was of concern. He knew the alien would be manipulating him. After all, he was Ztar's personal attendant. 'Oh, he is good,' Warren gave him. Sukja had maneuvered Warren to exactly the place Ztar wanted him those first hours. About that, Warren had no doubt.
In turnabout, perhaps he could use Sukja. A personal attendant must be privy to many of Ztar's secrets, and maybe his weaknesses. That, too, would be a worthwhile endeavor to occupy him.
"Good progress," Warren said aloud, pleased with his plans.
###
Carefully watching Archangel's every move was Sukja from the viewscreen in his chambers. The bout of obvious agitation and vomiting were not unusual. The aftermath turmoil needed to be expelled. He'd give the Human enough privacy to do so, but watchful of more ominous backlash.
The attendant gathered up a few things and headed to Archangel's chambers for a quick personal visit just to let the man know he wasn't completely isolated.
###
Archangel wasn't the only one making plans. During those off moments when Ztar wasn't involved in imperial matters, his mind was pulled back to the Human. His body ached for the next interlude. The intensity of that longing gave Ztar pause. One exposure and already he feared uncontrolled obsession. That was something an emperor could not afford. 'Keep it in check!' he commanded himself. 'The anticipating – the waiting – makes it even sweeter,' he offered himself in exchange.
The day seemed endless. He failed the attempt to banish the winged man from daytime thoughts. All Ztar wanted was to be with Archangel. For a day or two, he decided to give himself over to unchecked desires and daydreams – he'd waited too long to not savor the feelings for a while. Then it must end – pleasures and fantasies were for the night and the days for business. Maintaining a clear focus was how he clawed his way to the position of ruler over a far-flung empire; not by succumbing to self-indulgences, but by strength, cunning, and focused intellect free of uncontrolled emotions.
In another decision, Ztar determined the coming night would be more sensual, less frantic, and he indulged in delightful anticipation while ticking off imperial duties. A couple times, he caught an errant smile on his face for no outward reason. He read in the minds of the Mi-Lartui's crew puzzlement as to why their Emperor was in such a pleasant mood, and that made him smile even more.
###
As much as Warren wanted to divert his mind, will failed quickly. His energy reserves seemed exhausted. Lack of caloric intake and a high-speed metabolism wasn't a good combination. Food wouldn't stay down, though, when he forced it. Liquids settled better, and he dragged himself to the cold storage compartment a couple times for fluids, hoping none of it was toxic to Humans. Healing factor would likely deal with any ramifications, but the initial discomfort would add to his overall misery.
The balance of the endless day, he tolerated Sukja's periodic intrusions while he lay, or sat, or curled up lifeless on the window seat, shrouded behind white feathered shields. He gave himself permission to hide like a scared child. For one day, he'd wallow in the shellshock. What would it harm? Actually, he doubted there was anything else he was capable of that day. No energy. No feeling. Mentally numb and unfocused. And when banned memories tried to resurface, he focused on whatever drove them back into the shadows.
And when the lights started dimming in his luxurious prison, his heart clenched and the wings drew in tighter.
###
A/N: I worked quite a bit on the aftermath of Warren's first night with Ztar – his emotional reactions and thoughts. I think it's better than the original, but then again (thankfully) I've never been raped. Did more research on rape trauma and hope I have it closer to what a victim goes through the first day after such a horrible event. I'm interested to hear how you feel about it.
Next chapter is new and there will be an explanation further down the road of why it was added. Until then…
