Tea's Fearful Compassion

When Kaiba first began to grind on top of her, Tea had felt something hard and blunt press into her thigh. Initially, she had thought it was a screwdriver—it seemed reasonable that Kaiba would have tools in case he needed to work on a computer. A second later, she thought it couldn't be something as innocent as a screwdriver—no, it was a gun or a switchblade. It took a few minutes until she knew what was bruising her. Oh my God, she thought. It's his thing. Kaiba's thing is hard, and he's fucking at me with it. He's humping me.

She hardly ever used the word fuck, but it was what Kaiba was doing. He wasn't making love. The undignified "hump" used in conjunction with Seto Kaiba almost made her grin. And he calls Joey a dog, she thought, and a shrill giggle almost forced its way out of her throat, until she realized she had to stay sane.

It's all right, she shouted to herself, it's okay, he's not raping you. You're both clothed, it'll be over soon, he's not raping you, he's not raping you, not raping you, it doesn't hurt that bad, it doesn't hurt that bad, it's not rape…

But that hard, blunt thing was screwing itself down to her bone, and his weight might snap her femur. It was so hot, and he was so heavy. He was so thin. He shouldn't feel so heavy. He shouldn't be so strong.

His hand jumped all over her body, tickling and pressing and rubbing and probing. One second it was squeezing her hip, then it was gripping her shoulder, then it was palming the side of her neck. It fisted in her hair and scuttled over her chest. It lifted her skirt, and she fought back tears—not of fear this time, but embarrassment. What if he touched her there, a place so precious to her, and yet so filthy? She struggled to get her hands free to hide herself from those cold blue eyes, but he had her arms pinned.

His head lifted and he looked her in the eye. His breath hissed between his spit shiny teeth. His eyes, normally so cold, glowed with heat. He was a beast.

He stopped thrusting and lay there, panting, his hand between her breasts. She felt her heart beat under his palm. She knew that he felt it too. He was feeling her inner workings, what kept her alive, and she could no longer act as if she wasn't afraid. Her body told him she was. She was exposed and vulnerable. She had lost all her dignity.

"Please," she whispered, "Please, don't hurt me."

He shoved himself up on both her shoulders and pumped at her so hard her skin burned from the friction of his pants. They were going to fall off the mats, she thought, with a wild hope. If they fell, he would stop.

Then he stiffened and arched his back and let loose a sound between a grunt and a scream that trailed off into a gasping groan. That sound horrified her more than anything. It seemed to settle itself into every pore in the brick wall and linger. It was not a human sound. It was not a Kaiba sound. She imagined what his face might look like and shuddered.

Something batted lightly at her face. It was the Duel Monsters card Kaiba wore around his neck. She cracked her fingers and peered through them at a picture of a little boy in sepia, with a wide smile and long, wild black hair. It was Kaiba's little brother, and Tea knew that for the rest of her life she would never forget the combination of that sound with her finger-filtered view of Mokuba's smiling face.

Kaiba stayed pushed up on Tea's shoulders for a few moments, and then shakily lowered himself down. His weight lifted off of her and she felt the moist heat of sweat evaporating off her body.

Her leg was still trapped. He was going to kill her. She would not cry. She would not cry, she would not scream. If this was inevitable, she would go quietly and peacefully.
He pulled her hands from her face and looked down at her. She stared at the light bulb. It's brownish, winking light burned her retinas. She did not mind.

She was surprised when Kaiba hugged her close and wrapped his leg around her. She was surprised at how gentle his arms were. He smelled like laundry detergent and gingery cologne, with the sour tang of nervous sweat beneath. His wide, bony hand moved up and down her back, and her nerves pulsed a tingling jolt of electricity up her spine and down her arms. It was hard to breathe, buried in his chest. She weighed moving and possibly making him angry (or excited again) or suffocating, and chose to breathe. She moved her head slightly, and found Kaiba's heartbeat. It was thumping hard, but slowing down.

She hadn't listened to anyone's heartbeat since she was ten years old, the year her parents decided she was to old to snuggle into their laps. For ten years, their laps were hers. She had fallen asleep to their hearts beating so often that when they finally told her she couldn't, she used a trick she learned from when she got her little terrier, Ivan. The vet had said that when Ivan couldn't sleep, they should wrap an old-fashioned alarm clock, the kind that ticked, in a towel and put it next to him, so he'd think he was still with to his mother. So, she'd gotten some extra blankets, so she wouldn't feel so cold from lack of body heat, and her rag doll and her stuffed ballerina bunny, and Ivan, and they had all snuggled together to an alarm clock wrapped in a towel.

She wished she was wrapped up in bed with Ivan and Raggedy Ann and Mitzi, and yet…she liked Kaiba's smell. He smelled so different from her father. And listening to his heartbeat was so…intimate. He had felt hers, and it felt like he was giving something back to her. It was like seeing him naked. His weight on top of her was no longer so crushing. It felt sort of nice. She thought about the time when they would both have to separate, stand, and walk out together, and she found that more frightening than being held in his arms. She also knew it had to be done. His heart was beating in her face, lulling her into security. She had to fight it. This was wrong. What they had done was wrong. That sharp, shocking yank she had felt on her nipples and between her legs, that pull that sent sizzles throughout her body, when Kaiba had told her that her skin was soft was wrong. Thinking about his throaty murmur when he said that made that sensation come again.

She squirmed. Kaiba pulled away from her a bit, and she disentangled herself from him. She rolled off the mats and stood up, her eyes on the ground. She smoothed her skirt and blouse and hair, accidently pulled a snarl in her hair, and realized that she must look frantic. She ran her hands over herself again, slowly this time, feigning calm. She felt him staring at her.

" I have to go home," she said.

Kaiba said nothing. Tea could imagine him slowly blinking, like a reptile.

She fought back tears.

The mats made a zipping sound when he sat up. Tea backed away, her eyes on his legs.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out two more bills.

"No," Tea said, her voice cracking, "I don't…I NEED to GO now."

"Don't go yet," Kaiba said. He stood. Tea felt like collapsing.

He stepped across the room and took her wrist again. He pried open her fist and pushed the bills into her hand. She tried to pull away, and he held her fast. She tried to drop the bills, but he wrapped his hand around hers.

"I promised this to you."

"I don't want it."

"Why not? I want to see you put it in your purse."

"I AM NOT A WHORE."

The word whore was nauseating inside her mouth, but it made her angry, and the anger gave her the strength to look at his face. His eyes were wide, his mouth slightly open. Her anger had surprised him. He squared his shoulders and wiped his face free of any shock too quickly for her to know for sure.

"I never said…" His voice trailed off. He tightened his grip on her wrist and hand. "This is for your friend. For Joey's birthday gift. Don't you still want to get him the Flame Swordsman?"

Twin tears escaped from her eyelids and ran down both cheeks.

"Don't you?"

She stared at him. She tried to narrow and harden her eyes. Kaiba looked ill. The corners of his eyes and mouth had softened. He was no longer smirking. He looked like he was expecting terrible pain, like he was being stalked. Tea felt a sickening desire to comfort him, to ask him what was wrong, to offer help. She could still feel the bruising pressure on her hip where his crotch had pressed into her minutes before. Her rage and pity wrestled and twisted and squirmed together in the net of her guts.

"Take it," he said, "Please, Gardner, just take it."

She spun away from him, opened the door, and walked briskly away, almost running, forcing herself not to look behind. The door swung shut behind her with a click.

Kaiba watched her go. Then he whipped around and punched the wall.