(A/N: just a girl quietly craving feedback lol)
Chapter Six: Day of Reckoning
Phrase: The time when past mistakes or misdeeds must be punished
Dabi grabbed Aizawa's shirt collar in his fist and pulled Aizawa up on to his feet. Vertigo made Aizawa see spinning, blurry stars until he wasn't sure he was upright any longer. Then, as suddenly as he was pulled upwards, Dabi released his grip and let Aizawa crash to his knees with a crack through his joints. Kneeling before Dabi, Aizawa groaned and swayed.
"Look at me," said Dabi softly, "I always want you looking at me."
Aizawa tilted his aching skull back to stare up at the tall man looming over him. Knowing the rules helped. He could survive if he knew what was expected of him. Those gleaming eyes held cold blue fire, and it was easy to get lost in Dabi's gaze. Like a serpent and a mouse, Aizawa felt mesmerized and unable to pull away from his impending evisceration.
Dabi brought his thumb to his mouth and rolled his tongue to coat his thumb in spit. He brought his thumb down to Aizawa's face and started to wipe away the streaks of browned blood. When his thumb dried and caught against Aizawa's cheekbone, he brushed his thumb against Aizawa's lips.
"Open your mouth," said Dabi.
Aizawa parted his lips enough to let Dabi's thumb into his mouth and press down onto his tongue. His thumb slid until it hit the back of Aizawa's throat. Using his unkempt nail, Dabi pressed down forcefully on the very back of Aizawa's gag reflex. Aizawa dry heaved instantly and snapped forward as his stomach spasmed. Just as quickly, Dabi's knee struck upwards into Aizawa's forehead and Aizawa's skull cracked backwards. Reeling and dazed, Aizawa nearly fell before Dabi hooked his forefinger back under Aizawa's upper front teeth. Dabi yanked up as if he had a fish on the line.
"I told you to look at me," said Dabi – his tone deathly quiet – unspoken threats laced into every syllable. He sank his thumb back into Aizawa's mouth and forcefully activated Aizawa's gag reflex once more. This time – against all primal instinct – Aizawa choked but kept his head tilted back and his eyes focused upwards.
Finally, with his thumb slicked with viscous, dehydrated spit, Dabi finished cleaning the blood from Aizawa's face.
"I just wanted you to look pretty for the camera," murmured Dabi as he pulled his phone from his back pocket.
The thin, shiny, black connection to the outside world beckoned to Aizawa. If only he could call the police, but where would he tell them to go? Still, Aizawa wondered briefly if he could suppress Dabi's quirk long enough to take the arsonist in a fight. No – he realized – his eyes were shot. His blood supply was low. Pain rippled across his hips and shot through his intestines. Aizawa thought to himself, he didn't want to go through the pain of trying to be an impulsive hero type again. He would bide his time and wait for a better opportunity.
While Aizawa plotted, Dabi opened his camera and started to unzip his pants. The bright blue light of the screen made his face look gaunt and skeletal.
"Let's make a home video together, babe," said Dabi with a ghastly smile.
Aizawa stared up blankly at the unblinking eyes of the warden and his phone. He didn't know what to do – he hadn't been given any instructions. Alas, Dabi had something specific in mind as he unbuckled his belt and let his black boxer briefs show. His erection strained the fabric. Aizawa thought he could see the tip of Dabi's cock just above the hem of his waistline – but Aizawa didn't want to look just as much as he was afraid to break eye contact.
"Don't be shy," said Dabi as he pulled down his boxer briefs and let his cock spring out. The thick shaft fell against Aizawa's cheekbone and the tip pressed up against his brow. Aizawa flinched, and Dabi said with a teasing smile, "you look good with my cock on your face, hero."
Dabi wrapped his free hand around his dick – his fingertips nowhere close to meeting around the width of the shaft – and he started to draw slow and steady lines down Aizawa's pale face. Pre-cum trailed behind his cock and glistened on Aizawa's skin. He tapped his cock against Aizawa's lips, nose, forehead, and chin – anywhere he pleased as Aizawa stared blankly upwards. Aizawa could almost forget the humiliation as he focused on the blue iris rings. His mind started to drift – but Dabi noticed and pulled him back into reality.
"Tell me what you want, kitten," said Dabi as he pulled at Aizawa's bottom lip with the head of his cock, "talk dirty to me."
Aizawa's cheeks burned – he didn't know what to say. No one had ever asked him for that before. He only wanted to run away, but Dabi didn't want to hear that, and Aizawa had never exceled in anything that required creativity.
"Come on, I know you're just a fucking slut begging to get wrecked – but I wanna hear you ask for it, sweetheart," said Dabi easily as he started to rut his cock back and forth against Aizawa's jawline, "unless you think that loudmouth blond would do a better job."
Aizawa's blank expression finally broke as fear blew out his pupils and made his brows knit. In an instant, Aizawa forced himself to forget the camera and the last shreds of dignity that held him together. He would be whatever Dabi wanted him to be.
"I want you," said Aizawa as tried to hide his terror through half-lidded bedroom eyes.
Dabi almost snickered and asked, "Why don't I believe you?"
Aizawa blushed – he wasn't good at this.
"Please, let me go down on you," he tried to beg, but the words felt forced and insincere.
"Try again – this is your last chance before I find another pet," said Dabi as he traced his cock down the bridge of Aizawa's nose.
His last chance; Aizawa wondered what he would say if he weren't about to be raped on camera. He tried to imagine that it were just another late night in a seedy bar. He tried to focus on the pleasant heat of Dabi's cock against his skin and the thick scent of sex in the air. He tried to notice the squareness of Dabi's jaw under the thick layer of scar tissue. He tried to see the beauty in the eyes that made him fear death.
Aizawa parted his lips to speak – there were no words – there was nothing he wanted from this man. But there was something he wanted from every man – a fleeting feeling he chased until the journey broke him time and time again. There was a deep dissatisfaction clinging to Aizawa's soul – something hollow that any decent man refused to fulfill – and the words tumbled out.
"I want you to fuck me until I can't think straight anymore," whispered Aizawa as he reached into some deep, repressed aspect of his soul – that ever present part of him that just wanted to die, "I just want you to hurt me – please."
"Oh shit," whistled Dabi. His cock twitched with excitement and pre-cum oozed over Aizawa's cheek. "Open up. Stick your tongue out. Yeah that's good, you cock hungry whore."
Aizawa did as he was told, and Dabi let his swollen tip rest gently on Aizawa's tongue.
"You look so fucking pretty with my cock in your mouth," murmured Dabi, "you wanna choke on it, babe?"
Aizawa nodded a fraction of an inch. His jaw was starting to ache already. Dabi tasted like a salted ashtray. Slowly, Dabi thrust forward into Aizawa's mouth while he held Aizawa's head with his free hand. He pushed past the resistance at the back of Aizawa's throat. Aizawa's gag reflex made him shudder and jerk, but burning hot fingers in his hair kept him still. Dabi opened Aizawa's throat with persistent, damaging pressure until Aizawa's throat bruised from the inside out. Dabi lowered the camera to catch the bulging curve of Aizawa's throat around his cock.
"Blink twice if you like being throat fucked by the enemy," laughed Dabi with an airy delight.
Aizawa blinked twice and saltwater trailed down his temples. The massive girth in his throat was making his eyes water.
"How long can you last without oxygen?" asked Dabi as he rocked his pelvis into Aizawa's nose without ever actually pulling back, "Four – maybe six minutes? I want to see your lips turn blue, Shouta. That's what you wanted right? You think I can come in six minutes?"
Aizawa's eyelids fluttered as Dabi groaned and crushed his hips further against Aizawa's face. They stayed still like that for a while, and the room started to look hazy.
How long had it been? Aizawa lost focus – his mind drifted as the cozy waters of asphyxiation threatened to pull him under. Dabi started thrusting his hips – slowly at first – playing up the shifting bulge in Aizawa's throat for the camera. Aizawa's eyes started to roll back, but some tiny voice in the back of his head reminded him to keep looking at Dabi's half lidded eyes. Dabi grunted and tilted his chin to his chest as he started to fuck Aizawa's throat a little faster. The thick sounds of gagging and choking filled room.
"Are you gonna die on me, Shouta?" breathed Dabi as he watched the lips around his dick turn blue.
Aizawa's heart rate slowed down – his body was trying to preserve what little oxygen he had left.
Dabi hips pistoned faster. Real tears streamed down Aizawa's cheeks – he needed air. Death was only minutes away. The ancestral drive to survive told him to fight. Aizawa's eyes refocused with a frantic desperation to escape. He tried to jerk his head back. His chest pulled for air with no success. The suction only made Dabi moan.
Dabi stumbled forward and gripped the hospital bed for support. He brought Aizawa's head with him until the back of Aizawa's skull was flush against the metal of the bedframe. Dabi fucked Aizawa into the barrier as he gripped the bedframe for leverage with white knuckles.
"Fuck," breathed Dabi.
Aizawa's eyes finally started to close.
He had asked for this – begged for this.
"You feel good," said Dabi as his breath hitched.
Death had called to him – it was still calling.
Aizawa's ephemeral survival instincts dwindled along with his oxygen levels. He was losing consciousness as his lungs burned. Suffocation was painful, but the pain was fading. Aizawa lost all sense of awareness. He didn't notice Dabi's final bruising thrusts and the boiling hot liquid that shot down his esophagus. Aizawa had no recollection of Dabi softening in his throat as he his hips stayed pressed against Aizawa's face and Aizawa's head remained trapped against the metal bar. Aizawa's vision tunneled into pinpricks as Dabi took deep, satisfying breaths. Aizawa hardly remembered the feeling of hot liquid filling his stomach as Dabi released his bladder. When Dabi finally pulled his flaccid cock out of Aizawa's throat, Aizawa only remembered violently vomiting urine and semen onto the boots in front of him. Aizawa shook and heaved as the bitter, foul tasting liquids were purged from his stomach – the smell and taste made him gag all over again. He spit bile and flesh until his stomach lining was raw.
When he was done, Aizawa started to come back to the world of the living. He wiped his lips and spit one more time before Dabi squatted down next to him on the floor. The soulless eyes of the arsonist and his camera were square in Aizawa's face.
"I hope I exceeded your expectations," murmured Dabi, "did you enjoy yourself?"
Aizawa tried to glare, but he was too tired. His throat ached from abuse and singed with acid. He couldn't bring himself to speak. He couldn't even bring himself to look Dabi in the eyes anymore – the cold tingling of shame overwhelmed his thought processes – but he nodded in agreement for fear of something worse than what he had just experienced.
"Answer me," said Dabi sternly – dissatisfied with the lack of verbal confirmation.
Aizawa took a shuddering breath. He didn't want this again. How many times would this happen if he said yes? What would happen if he said no? And then he remembered why he was degrading himself. Hizashi was waiting for him. Hizashi needed him.
"I liked it," rasped Aizawa barely above a whisper. His watering eyes shut tight against the words that made him feel filthy and used.
Dabi started to laugh – an unearthly sound. He stood up and cracked his back as he twisted side to side. He zipped his pants and started towards the door.
"I didn't think you'd be this much fun, hero, but a deal is a deal," he said over his shoulder, "I'll make arrangements for the useless ones you care so much about."
The door slammed shut behind Dabi when he left. Aizawa was finally alone. There were no more watchful eyes that made him feel like he had to hide behind high walls. There was no one left to judge him for being weak. He felt the weight of the wrongs that had been inflicted upon his body – and Aizawa couldn't stop the tears falling down his face. He hugged his body tight and huddled over his knees while silent sobs started to wrack his ribcage. Exhaustion overtook him. He didn't know how long he stayed on the floor crying – there were no more tears but he still shook in anguish. Time seemed to pause. He faded in and out of consciousness until someone returned for his body.
Those familiar dirty boots entered his small field of vision once more.
"You won't need these anymore, pet."
Something was pulling at his clothing. He could smell the bitterness of melting synthetic fibers. Aizawa's body grew uncomfortably hot as his clothes were burned away. He had no memory of being picked up, of traversing a long hallway in scar tissue arms, or of being dumped into a new room like a lifeless ragdoll.
Hizashi and Vlad sat in their new beds. They were lumpy and hard, but a decent upgrade from the plastic boxes they had been in before. There was even a small bathroom, but that was the extent of their privileges. Hizashi had no memory of being moved to this new location, but Vlad had told him that a purple mist entered the vents of the plastic boxes and knocked Vlad out cold before they woke up in beds. Vlad told Hizashi about Aizawa stitching him up. He also told Hizashi about the men that took Aizawa away.
"Do you think they're hurting him?" asked Hizashi as he stared at the ceiling and tried to ignore the IV in his arm. He didn't remember getting the IV either. He had a creeping feeling knowing that someone had handled his sleeping body. "Do you think he's okay?"
"Probably," grunted Vlad without answering either question.
Hizash sighed and looked over at Vlad. The man was in bed with his back turned to Hizashi. Conversation was like pulling teeth but Hizashi needed to fill the silence.
"You said they knew Aizawa from before?" asked Hizashi as he tried to wrap his mind around that fact, "Like they had done this to him already?"
"Yeah," exhaled Vlad with impatience.
Hizashi chewed at his lip.
"You think they abducted him before?" asked Hizashi softly.
Vlad was silent for a moment.
"Or he worked with them before," suggested Vlad. His tone was low.
Hizashi frowned against the accusation and said, "Aizawa's not a traitor."
"Think about it, Yamada. We never heard about Aizawa being abducted. That would have been all over the news," said Vlad firmly, "you were close with him, weren't you? Wouldn't you have realized if he had gone missing? Wouldn't his parents have called the police? Wouldn't his hero agency have noticed his absence?"
Hizashi swallowed. They had been close. Aizawa had been a good friend in school, but Hizashi had a lot of friends, and it was hard to keep track of them all after graduation.
Vlad's accusations were relentless, "Our hero protocol dictates that we report any villain activity to the police. If no one knows about it, then that means he's hiding something or protecting someone."
Hizashi's nerves were starting to fray as he tried to think of rebuttals to Vlad's logical process.
"We don't know that Aizawa didn't report it," said Hizashi.
"The old man kept saying shit like: 'this time around, Shouta'. And that blue haired bastard knew that Aizawa knew something we didn't know – don't you remember what he said?" asked Vlad sharply.
"Haven't you figured it out yet Eraser? Haven't you told your friends? That this is all for you?"
Shigaraki's damning words hung in the air between the two men. Hizashi was losing ground in this battle of faith. Vlad was starting to sound crazed in his unyielding paranoia, and Hizashi was starting to feel uncomfortable stuck in a room alone with him.
"Shigaraki is insane, that doesn't mean anything," muttered Hizashi. His stomach was in knots. He didn't want to think about that sadist. "You know Aizawa. You know he's a good person."
Vlad didn't want to hear it, as if he had already made up his mind that Aizawa was some sort of double agent spy. He kept rambling facts and evidence that Hizashi couldn't quite disprove.
"We know now that Aizawa had a pre-existing connection with the league. Even though we had countless meetings about this damned organization, Aizawa kept his mouth shut the whole fucking time," spat Vlad, "We knew we had a mole at UA, and this is pretty fucking suspect."
Hizashi closed his eyes. Aizawa wasn't a traitor.
"They wouldn't hurt him like that if he was one of them," said Hizashi desperately.
"You know he's an asshole," muttered Vlad as his anger settled into permanence, "he probably pissed them off somehow just by being himself. Now we're stuck in the middle of it."
"This isn't his fault," snapped Hizashi, but he had no way to prove Aizawa's innocence. He just knew.
"Keep telling yourself that, Yamada," said Vlad bitterly, "see where it gets you."
Hizashi grimaced. His anger made his stitches throb in tandem with his rising blood pressure. He needed to pace and vent his frustrations, but he was weak and his anger just sat with him in silence. He worried over Aizawa as time passed. Images of blood and sex flashed when he closed his eyes. Hizashi spent hours trying not to blink too much until he heard someone at the door.
"Did you hear that?" whispered Hizashi.
Vlad sat up suddenly, his muscles straining with the pointless desire to fight.
The metal door swung open slowly to reveal the man that Vlad had only seen twice before. The villain from the burning forest – the scarred companion to the man that Aizawa had called 'Giran'. It was Hizashi's first time seeing Dabi – the grotesque flesh proudly on display, but he hardly noticed. Instead, Hizashi's stomach flipped when he saw that a skeletal, naked body was curled up in the man's burnt, purple arms.
"What did you do to him?" whispered Hizashi as he struggled to lean forward.
Dabi smiled like a Cheshire cat and grazed his chin affectionately over the top of Aizawa's hair.
"I just had some fun," murmured Dabi.
Then, Dabi dropped Aizawa unceremoniously on to the floor. Aizawa was unconscious as he slumped over, and his skull cracked loudly on the metal floor.
"You're a monster," choked Hizashi.
"Name calling? Are you trying to make me mad?" asked Dabi playfully, "After all, your friend tried so hard to me happy. You shouldn't waste his efforts."
Hizashi's ashen complexion paled further as blood drained from his face.
"You should thank Shouta for the room and your blood transfusion when he wakes up," said Dabi as he fished around his deep pockets. He pulled out a paper bag of supplies and tossed them down next to Aizawa, "Clean him up for me, will you?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Hizashi with wide eyes. He didn't want these creature comforts anymore. He was fine in that sweltering dungeon.
"Ask no questions and you'll be told no lies," quoted Dabi with a nonchalant peace sign before he slammed the door shut behind him.
"God damn it," cursed Hizashi as he stared at the crumpled body on the floor. Aizawa's lips and fingertips were blue and his inner arm was bruised black. Naked now, Hizashi could clearly see the jagged lines of bloody decay that laced over the back of Aizawa's neck and over the rise of Aizawa's ass. He wanted to throw up.
Instead, Hizashi clenched his teeth as tears started to burn in his eyelids. Aizawa was so close, just a few feet away, but Hizashi was still too incapacitated to do anything to save him. His anger and helplessness made him shout, "Damn it, Vlad, help him up!"
Vlad grunted as he rolled out of bed. He had been eyeing the filthy, vomit and piss covered man on the floor with distaste. He wondered what Aizawa had done to incur the wrath of the League. He wondered how long Aizawa had been hiding these vital secrets – if he had been turned before or after he accepted work at UA – if he had fallen out with the league before or after the USJ incident. Conspiracy theories ran rampantly through Vlad's thoughts, but he was sure of one thing – this man was most likely a traitor given the evidence. Vlad's collarbone flushed with anger. He felt stupid for not seeing it sooner. What kind of amoral whore was a proper hero anyways?
Vlad bent over Aizawa to pick him up off the floor. Looking closer, he could see a spurt of left over cum in Aizawa's beard. Vlad grimaced. He wondered if Aizawa liked it when those men were rough with him. After all, Aizawa always liked it when Vlad was rough with him. Or at least, he didn't seem to mind.
"I'm going to wash him down," muttered Vlad as he picked up the paper bag of supplies. Not because their warden asked, but because Vlad had his own agenda in which Hizashi need not be involved.
Hizashi watched Vlad carry Aizawa into the bathroom in silence. He had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't place the nausea rising in his stomach, but it matched the feeling of watching Vlad fuck Aizawa in the forest the night before their abduction. He should have intervened. But what was his reasoning now? Aizawa was hurt and Vlad had offered to help, but there was a dark look in Vlad's eyes when he left.
Hizashi shifted towards the edge of his bed, but his chest screamed in pain and the world spun. He felt dangerously close to passing out again. There was nothing he could do to ease that nervousness in stomach and those tears he had been holding back finally started to fall.
In the bathroom, Vlad set Aizawa down on the floor of the shower and turned on the faucet. Hot water fell on Aizawa's legs and steam started to fog up the small, austere space. He opened the paper bag to find more bandages, ointment, and a packet of red iron pills. Vlad turned to look at Aizawa's bruised inner arm. Upon closer inspection, there was an inflamed mark where a needle must have entered the vein. Vlad sucked his teeth. Blood withdrawal, he thought to himself. That would explain the signs of anemia and the iron pills. That would also explain the quirk suppression if the League had managed to utilize Aizawa's blood.
Vlad ground his teeth as he glared at the unconscious man. He had so many questions. Vlad knelt down just outside the shower and grabbed Aizawa's shoulder to shake him awake. The man's bleary eyes opened into slits.
"Wake up, traitor," growled Vlad.
The accusation sent a jolt through Aizawa and his eyebrows scrunched together. His lips parted as he tried to form words.
"Were you selling your blood to them?" asked Vlad abruptly. Aizawa was always tired – always anemic. He was always closed off and gone at odd hours. He was always tight on money. A drug habit perhaps. "How long have you been working for the League?"
The rapid-fire interrogation made Aizawa blink rapidly as he tried to process his worst fears coming true. He tried to shake his head no, but his neck hurt and he didn't have the energy to move.
"You don't have to answer me now," muttered Vlad, and Aizawa was foolish enough to think that the interrogation had ended.
Vlad removed skintight clothes quickly and stepped into the shower with Aizawa. In absolute silence, he grabbed a bottle of all-purpose soap and washed Aizawa's hair. The dried blood liquefied and ran down the drain in red spirals. Vlad lathered his hands in suds and washed away the foreign bodily fluids with a dutiful focus.
"Turn around," said Vlad as he helped Aizawa move. Aizawa hissed when the hot water and harsh soap hit his raw, disintegrated skin.
"Does that hurt?" asked Vlad quietly. His blunt fingernails dug into the fragile wounds and Aizawa gasped.
Aizawa's heart tried to race – there was something dangerous happening – but his heart was too tired.
"Vlad," rasped Aizawa, "whatever you think happened…"
"They knew you," whispered Vlad as he grabbed the tube of ointment from outside the shower, "tell me how you knew them."
"Ten years ago," rasped Aizawa – trying to convey the pain and suffering he had endured, but his mind was cloudy and his words were slurred, "it was a long time ago. I didn't mean to..."
Vlad's hands were shaking with anger and he dug his nails deeper. Aizawa whined through the pain coursing through his over stimulated system.
"And yet you didn't turn them in," accused Vlad, and Aizawa shook his head in a daze.
The blank look on Aizawa's face pissed Vlad off. It had always pissed him off. The holier than thou aloofness that made Vlad feel like shit every time Aizawa walked away from him. Now he knew why though – now he knew that Aizawa was the enemy all along – he knew that Aizawa was using him and making him look like a fool.
"You're one of them," accused Vlad.
"You don't understand," choked out Aizawa. If only he could explain better, if only he could think straight. But Vlad was right – he hadn't gone to the police. He let them get away with abusing him and stealing his blood. Did that make him an accomplice? Did that make him a villain too?
"I thought the leader had raped you – and you just kept saying 'I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine'. It didn't make any sense," hissed Vlad under his breath, "Is that because you always let him fuck you like that? I know you like it rough, but that's fucked up Aizawa."
Aizawa's eyes were so wide that his temples hurt. He had always know that people would think bad things – this was why he didn't go to the police in the first place. He had to make Vlad understand –
"I never – I didn't want – Vlad I – " stuttered Aizawa as Vlad's grip around his waist tightened. He was suddenly painfully aware of the proximity of their naked bodies. He had hardly noticed before. He and Vlad were always naked together – but this was different.
There was fear coursing through his veins this time. He didn't want to go through this again so soon. Aizawa breathed deeply. His chest was too tight. He just needed a moment to breathe.
Vlad kneed the back of Aizawa's legs to make them buckle. He pressed Aizawa into the ground so that Aizawa was in a child's pose with his knees spread open under his chest. The spray of water wasn't reaching his ass anymore, but the pose stretched his skin and made Aizawa whine in pain.
"Vlad, please – not right now," startled Aizawa.
"I'm just trying to help you," muttered Vlad as he squirted a line of ointment onto his fingers.
"I don't need help," said Aizawa desperately, but Vlad's fingers were already rubbing ointment over his abused entrance. He gasped and flinched at the overwhelming sensation. It burned at the tear that ran through his ring of muscle.
"Your insides are injured," said Vlad in monotone.
"Please stop," whispered Aizawa. He didn't want to be any louder. He didn't want Hizashi to hear what was happening – not again.
"Relax," muttered Vlad, "if you're fucking the entire League, then this shouldn't even fucking faze you, right?"
Vlad recoated his fingers in ointment and resumed his work around Aizawa's entrance. Vlad brought his free palm up around Aizawa's mouth. He didn't want Hizashi to hear this either. In the back of his mind, he knew that this was crazy, but Aizawa pissed him off. He knew he shouldn't be doing this, regardless of Aizawa's crimes, but Aizawa was just naked and fucked up looking and it made Vlad's dick hard.
Aizawa's breathing rate quickened as his fear of pain skyrocketed. The circling around his entrance seemed to last forever – until he could almost believe that the pain wouldn't come. Then, without warning, Vlad shoved two fingers halfway in and immediately added a third. He sank his three fingers down to the knuckles and twisted. Aizawa screamed into Vlad's palm and his eyes rolled back as searing pain shot through his rectum. Blood oozed over Vlad's knuckles.
"Tell me how long you've been spying on us," demanded Vlad.
"I wasn't," whined Aizawa into Vlad's palm with a muffled gasp, "I didn't mean for this to happen."
Vlad stretched his three fingers open, pulling Aizawa apart in all directions. He watched Aizawa keen and buckle without compassion.
"Don't lie to me," spat Vlad as he increased the width of his insertion.
"I'm not!" cried Aizawa. He was so tired. He was so tired of being in pain. It was making him dizzy again. Vlad pressed deeper still. Aizawa yelped and jolted forward but Vlad held him in place by the jaw. Aizawa scrambled for answers and whined, "Please listen, I didn't want anyone to know what they did to me when they took me. I was ashamed, Vlad, please believe me, please…please don't do this to me…please…I trusted you…"
Vlad just stared at the periphery of Aizawa scrunched up expression. That blank look was finally gone. Tears were streaming down Aizawa' s cheeks and rolling over Vlad's hand. Vlad felt a twinge of pleasure race down his abdomen. He was a hero – he told himself – it wouldn't feel this good if Aizawa were a hero too.
"I don't believe you," said Vlad softly, "A dirty whore like Aizawa Shouta has never felt shame a day in his life."
The tears started to fall faster. Aizawa was too overcome to fight back – to tell Vlad that he was wrong. He did feel shame. He was ashamed every day for over a decade. He slept with people to forget that shame – not because he was shameless. But he couldn't tell Vlad now, not when he felt Vlad lining up his hips with his ass stretched open in the air.
All Aizawa could manage was a soft plea.
"You're hurting me."
There was no answer.
Vlad slowly pushed his cock through the lubed up, torn up hole. The pain and humiliation made Aizawa wail involuntarily. Vlad had started gently, but the noises that came from Aizawa's blue lips were making his groin hot and eager. He just wanted to fuck this man until he confessed his sins. Vlad was so focused on the wet heat of ointment and blood that he didn't notice the door cracking open behind him. He didn't hear the deep, rumbling snarl of the man who discovered this act of violence.
It was too late when he heard, "get off of him!"
Vlad heard a crack of metal on bone before he felt the blinding, white-hot pain explode in his skull. Then the world went black as he fell to the shower floor.
Aizawa started to hyperventilate under the weight of Vlad's body. Vlad was so heavy, he felt like he couldn't breathe. He had just enough strength to claw at the shower drain and pull his body free. A sickening squelch echoed in the bathroom when Vlad's cock popped out of his ass.
"Aizawa – Aizawa are you okay?" breathed Hizashi's ragged voice.
Aizawa turned with wide, fear blown eyes to see that Hizashi was also crumpled to the ground with the IV stand clutched in his hands. The stand was bent at an odd angle. Aizawa's eyes followed the metal pole down to the point of impact on Vlad's skull. His white hair was dyed red and a pool of blood was growing steadily under his unblinking eyes. Aizawa reached out with a shaking finger to feel under Vlad's jugular. There was nothing. Aizawa pressed harder. Nothing.
He looked up at Hizashi and stammered, "He's dead."