Chapter Nine: Nepenthe

Noun: Something that makes you forget your suffering

Aizawa's starvation headache intensified in the dim flickering lights. How long had it been since he had eaten? Days? The vomit colored olive green walls made his empty stomach churn. The bed sheets itched. The futon made his spine ache. The lack of ventilation made the air stale and thick and hard to breathe. He blinked once, and the brief sensory deprivation made him sway towards the floor – only sitting up straight again when his eyelids reopened. His gaze slid back to the looming figure in the shadows – all wire and heat and death. This man that called himself Dabi – this man who seemed to take the most sadistic pleasure in tormenting Aizawa in all ways – stalked toward Aizawa now like a beast in the woods. Closer and closer until Aizawa could smell the ash of his skin and feel the warmth radiating from his core from only a few feet away.

Dabi paused at the outskirts of the futon, allowing just enough time for Aizawa's dazed thoughts to wander in the false safety of suspense.

Long ago, Aizawa would have wondered: What is it about me that calls monsters forth from the darkness in men?

But he no longer wondered. There were no more questions. He had accepted his fate and his role in these power dynamics over a decade ago. The carnal desires of men no longer shocked him. It didn't matter who, or how, or when, or where, or how many – rather it was the violence itself that still scared Aizawa. He found no pleasure in pain.

Truthfully, Aizawa would rather die than experience Dabi's excruciating, mind numbing sadism for the rest of his foreseeable future. Just like last time – the reprieve of death called to him…but no, not this time…this time, there were people and things that Aizawa couldn't let go of…

Hizashi's smile came to mind as bright as the sun, and Hizashi's laughter like a ghost whispering in his ears.

Visions of Aizawa's parents, worrying in the countryside when the news reached their quaint little town. They were too old to suffer through this – if news came that he had died a horrible…no, Aizawa couldn't imagine breaking their old hearts. Not this time around.

And his cats – oh god, Aizawa hoped that someone remembered his three beautiful little kittens. Midnight would remember…she would take them in…

Searing pain struck Aizawa across the face, so brutal and quick that his cheekbone felt like it might crack open again then and there. His eyes watered on impact and clenched shut, but he forced one eye open to look at the man who had just hit him.

"Don't pass out before the party starts," said Dabi mere inches from Aizawa face.

Aizawa just nodded, unable to dissociate as he waited for the next strike.

Dabi straightened and began to disrobe. Of course this was coming next. His heart began to race and thump in his tightening chest. Aizawa's vision turned to pinpricks as he struggled to catch his breath. Panic gripped his rabbit heart as he thought of all the ways Dabi liked to hurt him. That was the worst part – not the violation, but the pain. Aizawa couldn't stand the bleeding and bruising and suffocating and burning – all for the pleasure of this man.

At least Giran had kept him somewhat clean and healthy ten years ago. At least Giran didn't let anyone else touch him. Thinking these thoughts, the words slipped out entirely of their own volition:

"Giran won't let you do this," murmured Aizawa – and regret swept through his stomach immediately.

Dabi just smiled as he unbuckled his belt and snapped the leather in his hands. Aizawa swallowed and blinked though his hazy tunnel vision. The room swam and jolted with each snap of the leather. He hadn't considered whipping. Aizawa was sure he would pass out if Dabi whipped him, but the universe was kind and Dabi dropped the belt on the floor. Dabi then dropped his jacket, and removed his undershirt as well. Dabi kicked off his heavy boots and started to laugh. It was an unnatural sound – and the words that followed made Aizawa's cheeks burn.

"Missing your first rapist, huh?" jeered Dabi.

Aizawa winced. He wouldn't have put it that way, but could he really deny that he would rather be at Giran's mercy right now?

"Aren't you supposed to be drawing blood?" asked Aizawa, but there were no right answers.

"Oh, so you want me to make you bleed this time?" asked Dabi with a suggestive wink.

Aizawa just shook his head as he watched the man stretch in nothing but slim fitting black joggers. Aizawa winced at how the piercings stretched between mutilated and healthy flesh. Dabi's muscled form rippled like a jungle cat – his toned abdomen only served to remind Aizawa of the brutal pace that Dabi was oh so capable of setting.

And so, when Dabi knelt down on the futon next to Aizawa and pulled his phone out of his pocket, Aizawa felt something shrivel inside of him. There was nothing good about being in close proximity with Dabi, but everything was always worse when he decided to record their activities. Aizawa felt his mouth go dry. It was sick. Who watched these videos? Why hadn't they come to the rescue? Or were they fucked up enough to enjoy the torture porn that Dabi made? Perhaps Aizawa could have ignored those questions, but one question ate away at him, and it tumbled out of his dehydrated, delirious lips once more before he could stop himself:

"Who watches those videos?"

The words hung heavy in the stale air, quiet and full of dread.

"My father," muttered Dabi, the gleeful light in his eyes dimming for only a moment.

Aizawa remembered as much.

"The man you fucked," spat Dabi, his eyes growing darker, "you dirty fucking slut."

Dabi's words shot forth like arrows coated in venom. His tone grew heated and his features twisted in rage.

"Did you like having that evil bastard come up your ass and use you like a disposable fuck toy?"

Aizawa's eyes were wide, his chest painfully tight with spiraling anxiety. With every accusatory question, Dabi leaned closer, and Aizawa backed up until his shoulder bladed pressed into the wall.

"I don't know who you're talking about," whispered Aizawa, his breath caught in his throat as fear constricted his lungs.

"Don't you?" spat Dabi. His hand rushed towards Aizawa's throat and the pressure made Aizawa choke and gasp for air.

"Just tell me," croaked Aizawa, his fingers twitched in the sheets, but he knew better than to try and pry Dabi's fingers off his airways.

"Don't you see the family resemblance?" asked Dabi darkly, but Aizawa couldn't focus as his blood pressure dropped, "My wonderful father…the number two Pro-Hero…wife beater and child abuser, beloved and adored by the masses."

Aizawa's eyes widened in shock, and Dabi released his grip. Aizawa gasped and coughed and shook his head in denial.

"That's not possible," rasped Aizawa with his first breath.

The Todoroki family was infamous. A twenty something old son of Endeavor couldn't vanish – couldn't become a villain – the media would have…would have…

Thoughts raced through Aizawa's fear-addled, nutrition starved brain as he tried to connect the dots. Dabi had accused his father of abuse. Dabi had accused his father of evil. Dabi had accused his father of ignoring his violent, pornographic videos. It didn't make any sense, but three things rang true: Enji was a secretive man, Enji was a proud man, and Dabi's eyes were all too familiar now that he could place those clear blue irises.

"So I'll ask you again," murmured Dabi as he traced a too hot finger down Aizawa's bare, naked chest, "Did you enjoy getting fucked by my father?"

Aizawa shook his head, ever so slightly, starting to come to terms with the danger he was in.

"A selfish lover then? That piece of shit didn't make you come?" spat Dabi.

Aizawa shook his head again – he was starting to sweat. Dabi was emanating heat so intense that Aizawa thought they would both burst into flames.

"What went wrong, dearest?" he asked with a sneer, "Being star struck didn't do it for you? Getting fucked by the rich and famous wasn't enough for you?"

Aizawa's voice was caught in his throat. Dabi's fingertips trailed back up Aizawa's chest and pressed into his trachea, a very clear warning and demand to answer his questions without hesitation.

"It- it didn't feel good," said Aizawa with a flush spreading over his cheeks. The absurdity of the conversation was not lost on him, but the threat of fire and pain made him quick to admit that Endeavor had been much too big and much too aggressive.

"Aw babe, did daddy dearest hurt you, too?" rumbled Dabi. He slid his hands between Aizawa's naked, tightly clenched thighs. "It sounds like we have more in common than I thought." Dabi's nails dug into the soft flesh as he wrenched Aizawa's legs open. "Did you tell him to stop? Or did you like being split open for a top pro-hero?"

"I don't – I didn't – we were making a deal – "

Wrong answer.

Aizawa was cut off when Dabi grabbed his throat again and shoved him onto his back with alarming force. Aizawa coughed at the pressure on his windpipe, but it was immediately forgotten when he felt Dabi slide up through his parted legs. Still clothed in soft joggers, Aizawa shuddered when he felt Dabi's hardening length pressing in his bruised inner thigh.

"You really are just a dumb whore playing at being a hero," murmured Dabi. Dabi's fingers stroked down Aizawa's shivering belly and through his sweaty, damp pubic hair until he reached Aizawa's puckered entrance. "How much to finger your asshole, huh?" he asked before sinking one dry finger down to the knuckle in a single, cruel motion.

Aizawa convulsed and buckled at the sudden, painful violation. His rim burned with friction, and Dabi's jagged, unkempt nail stabbed at his insides.

"How much for two fingers?" asked Dabi causally before shoving in a second dry finger, ignoring the protesting muscle and skin. He scissored his fingers open to the fullest extent and watched Aizawa writhe in pain. Dabi chuckled, "Or do you go by the hour?"

Aizawa shook as his body strained to accommodate the widespread fingers. Then, without warning, Dabi yanked out his fingers, leaving Aizawa feeling raw and on edge.

"Isn't it funny that the Top Hero hasn't replied?" murmured Dabi as he entered the passcode on his phone. "You've been here for weeks. Shouldn't he have rescued you by now?"

Aizawa's lower lip trembled. He knew Enji had a bad reputation, but he refused to believe…

"I'm sure my face is all over the news along with my colleagues – he knows my face, these scars, and he knows I'm with you," said Dabi quietly. "What a fucking sorry excuse for a hero, don't you think?"

"You're lying," said Aizawa weakly.

"We'll see," murmured Dabi, his eyes growing distant as he considered something new, "you know…if our previous adventures haven't kept his attention…" Dabi trailed off and Aizawa's heart skipped a beat. And then, Dabi did something unexpected.

He pulled Aizawa's thighs up in the crooks of his elbows, and Aizawa was forced to balance on his shoulders with his ass in the air. Then, before Aizawa could comprehend the turning tides, Dabi's long, burning hot tongue was probing at Aizawa's tightly wound entrance.

"A-ah!" gasped Aizawa in sheer discomfort at the attention being given to his abused ring of muscle. Viscous spit and willpower allowed Dabi's tongue to quickly penetrate Aizawa's defenses. Hot puffs of breath and Dabi's warm hands on his gluteal muscles made Aizawa relax against his will. And that ungodly long tongue – it was making Aizawa's breath hitch and his heart skip. Flushed and ashamed, Aizawa's flaccid cock twitched once. The half-hearted response did not go unnoticed, and Dabi smiled against the curves of Aizawa's parted cheeks. He dragged his rough tongue up Aizawa's perineum, between his balls, and up Aizawa's soft length. Dabi sucked Aizawa into in mouth and swirled his tongue with expert precision.

"Wha – why are you – " stuttered Aizawa. His cheeks burned. His heart hammered. His body – so depraved of any earthy pleasure – so tortured, burned, and beaten – began to respond to Dabi's efforts in earnest. Aizawa started to whine as his cock stiffened in Dabi's furnace of a mouth. It was too hot. He thought he might melt as rivulets of saliva dripped down his balls like lava.

Dabi didn't respond as he left Aizawa's straining cock with a loud pop. The cold air shocked Aizawa's senses, but Dabi's warm hands wrapped around his shaft as Dabi's tongue returned to Aizawa's hole. With Dabi's free hand, he reached into his back pocket and retrieved the half-used bottle of lube. Aizawa spotted the bottle in the corner of his eye and his stomach dropped. He didn't want to think about how the rest of that bottle had been emptied.

The pain and guilt on Hizashi's face would haunt him forever, and Aizawa felt himself starting to get soft again.

"Hard to please, aren't you, pet?" muttered Dabi the one moment his tongue left Aizawa's rim, having felt Aizawa go soft, "Surprising given your low standards and slutty reputation."

And then his tongue was delving into Aizawa's crevices once more.

"NNhhg," whined Aizawa as his back shivered, pleasure racing into his core. No one had touched him like this since…since…well, no one had even touched him like this. He had never asked any of his lovers. No one had ever offered. The thought made his stomach twist, cold ice and pleasurable fire swirled in his stomach, fighting for dominance as Dabi out paced his shame and confusing thoughts. And then Dabi's mouth was around his cock head again, his tongue flicking at the sensitive underside, his fingers twirling gently around his balls, one stray, slippery finger pressing against his loosened hole.

"Ah!" gasped Aizawa as Dabi sank his lubricated finger in – ever so slowly this time. He worked his mouth in time with his thrusting finger, and Aizawa thought he would pass out from the heat, the pleasure, and the disorienting shame of it all.

He hadn't even thought to say no.

He was starving, thirsty, bled try, and every single cell of his body hurt – except for the places that Dabi touched him. It was a reprieve from his tortured existence.

It was wrong. It was wonderful.

Aizawa opened his mouth to protest, to tell Dabi to stop – but all that came out were half-hearted whines and moans.

Aizawa didn't even hear the ding of the camera when Dabi started the video.

"Tell me what you want, love," murmured Dabi when he took a breath.

Aizawa's cock was cold and aching without Dabi's warmth. Without Dabi's ministrations, his straining erection was just yet another body part that hurt – and the pain was too much. It was unbearable. Aizawa's eyes started to water and tears slipped down his temples. He just didn't want to be in pain anymore.

"D-don't," breathed Aizawa with pitiful hiccups cutting up his words, "Don't stop."

Dabi's tongue traced up Aizawa's shaft, and Aizawa bucked his hips up to meet empty air. Dabi's lone finger teased at Aizawa's prostate, but just barely applied any pressure. Everything ached and burned and screamed for release. Aizawa couldn't bare it any longer.

"You can do better than that," said Dabi as he started to pull his finger back out, but Aizawa's body clenched and tried to keep him inside.

"Please," begged Aizawa, he was dizzy and close, "please...I'm so tired, I just – I just want to feel better…"

Dabi pressed his finger back against Aizawa's prostate and wriggled in a delightful, sinful way. Aizawa tried to shift his hips down on the pleasurable feeling, chasing the painkiller of lust.

"Just fuck me," begged Aizawa so pitifully that his voice broke over the vowels, and Dabi started to move in a consistent rhythm. Finally, finally Aizawa edged closer to those pearly gates.

"Say my name," he ordered.

"Dabi," breathed Aizawa – his eyes shut in bliss as he felt Dabi's rough lips against the base of cock.

"Todoroki Touya," corrected Dabi – the sweltering breath tickling in Aizawa's pubic hair.

Aizawa's heart skipped a beat – and perhaps he realized Dabi had ulterior motives – but his mind was too muddled and broken to stop. He thrust his hips up, rutting against Dabi's cheekbone and trying to find friction in the humid air.

"Touya…Touya…" whispered Aizawa like a secret password as his resolve crumbled, "Touya – I want you…"

Dabi pulled away from Aizawa and set his hips back down on the mattress. Aizawa sobbed at the loss of contact – his old burns and bruises and hunger becoming so apparent without that oasis of pleasure – but Dabi was only shifting out of his joggers. Dabi poured the remaining lube over his cock and slathered the liquid over every crevice of Aizawa's ass. He gripped the base so tightly that veins stood out. He was well endowed. Long and thick, something that had terrified Aizawa once, but now Aizawa keened and arched his hips up to beckon that monstrosity forth.

"Are you ready, babe?" asked Dabi softy.

"Yes – yes, please," begged Aizawa, heady with the need to escape into goodness.

And then Dabi was kissing him, no teeth and no tongue, just a sweet and long lasting pressure. Dabi settled between Aizawa's legs without breaking the kiss. Ever so gently, Dabi pressed forward and slipped through Aizawa's ring of muscle without a hint of resistance.

"Ahh, yes," breathed Aizawa against Dabi's lips as he tried to take more and more, but Dabi had set a frustratingly slow pace. Desperate, Aizawa grabbed for Dabi's hand and placed it around his own aching cock. Dabi obliged and jerked Aizawa off with a gentle grip.

It took an eternity, but finally – finally – Dabi bottomed out.

"Look at that," muttered Dabi, breaking the kiss for the first time to point out the bulge in Aizawa's stomach.

Aizawa looked down to see the bump in his emaciated abdomen where Dabi pressed against his insides.

"You like seeing my dick fucking up your stomach?" asked Dabi softly, almost sweetly, "You wanna come now that you're full, pet?"

And Aizawa nodded despite himself – despite the fact that it was a villain who was making him feel better than anyone else had in his entire life – despite the fact that this man had nearly killed him countless times. It still felt so fucking good and Aizawa was so, so very close –

"Touya – don'tstop," begged Aizawa as he squirmed and shivered on the length spearing through his insides, "Le…lemme come, please…"

Aizawa's words were slurring as his energy depleted and his body ached for release, and Dabi obliged.

Dabi pulled halfway out, shifted his hips, and started thrusting purposefully straight into Aizawa's prostate.

Aizawa gasped, unable to form coherent words or thoughts, as his vision tunneled and went black. Fire and butterflies swirled in his stomach. Pleasure coiled tight as Dabi picked up his pace and tightened his grip around Aizawa's cock.

"Come for me, babe," urged Dabi.

"Ah – aahH!" cried out Aizawa as the sensations pushed him over the edge. Dabi focused his efforts around the tip of Aizawa's length and the coil released in a mind-numbing earthquake of pleasure that made Aizawa's body convulse, "Ah fuck!"

Finally, Aizawa was coming and everything was okay – everything was good.

Ropes of white ejaculate shot out over his own stomach, chest, and face. Dabi kept fucking him and jerking him off until the very last spurt – until Aizawa was reaching the brink of sensitivity – and then Dabi let go. Aizawa took a deep breath of sweet, ashen air. His skin vibrated with the afterglow and his insides thrummed happily around Dabi's still cock.

"I love you, Shouta," murmured Dabi, "Let's run away together."

Then, the camera dinged and the recording stopped.

Aizawa's eyes opened wide like saucers.

Of course Dabi had an ulterior motive. Lost in his lust driven delirium, Aizawa hadn't considered…

Fuck.

Panic set in and flooded his veins like an ice water bath.

"No, no, you didn't," breathed Aizawa just shy of audible.

He shouldn't have let it go this far – he stared at Dabi's self-satisfied expression – he really fucking shouldn't have – he was such a fucking idiot.

The afterglow was shattered as Aizawa struggled to wrap his mind around the repercussions of that recording and those damning words, but Dabi was quick to illuminate him.

"You know, Shouta, there have been rumors floating around that UA has a traitor…" started Dabi with a curling, malevolent smile, "So wouldn't the world be so interested to find out our dirty little secret?"

Aizawa's heart skipped so many beats he thoughts he might pass out.

"A traitorous whore working along side the League of Villains – " rumbled Dabi, "Bribing top heroes with sex and spying on minors – you'll never work as Hero again, Shouta."

Dabi started to laugh – an unkind and hurtful sound – as blue flames licked haphazardly over his body to match his chaotic euphoria.

"Delete it," demanded Aizawa with as much strength as he could muster despite the shame constricting his vocal chords. The request only made Dabi laugh harder.

Dabi shifted his hips to line up with Aizawa entrance. Dabi caught his breath and said, "What? You don't mind a bit of torture porn, but suddenly you're a goddamn prude when it comes to actually enjoying yourself? That's fucked up, babe."

On that last syllable, Dabi snapped his hips forward and tore into Aizawa's body.

"W-wait!" gasped Aizawa in sudden shock and splitting pain. The shock of reality had been enough to undo the foreplay, and Aizawa was instantly too tight again. Spurred on by Aizawa's suffering, Dabi jack-hammered his hips against Aizawa's thighs, earning a pained groan from the overly sensitive and tense man below him. Then, as quickly as he had started, Dabi pulled out with a lewd pop, flipped Aizawa over, and shoved himself back through the painfully resistant ring of muscle.

"Don't be so selfish after you got to come, you filthy slut," jeered Dabi, "you can't back out now that I'm so. fucking. close."

Every word was punctuated with a cruel, stabbing thrust into his guts that made Aizawa feel like vomiting. Dabi grabbed Aizawa's hair and forced him face first into the futon. Aizawa panicked. He couldn't see, and if Dabi wanted him blind – "Fucking shit, stop!"

A roar of blue hell flame thundered in Aizawa's ears before searing pain racing across the skin of his hips. Aizawa screamed into the sheets, blinded and unable to stop Dabi's fire.

The demon fucked into him with brutal strength, gripping his hips with one flaming hand. Aizawa felt his skin crack and wither in protest. Blisters bubbled and the smell of burning flesh overwhelmed every other sensation. Aizawa could hardly tell that Dabi was even fucking him, the pain of his skin was so intense. The only reprieve was when Dabi let go. For one blissful moment, Aizawa thought it might be over, but he was wrong. Dabi placed his free hand between Aizawa's shoulder blades and pushed until Aizawa thought his ribs might crack under the pressure.

"Please stop – please Dabi – " begged Aizawa through snot and tears and painfully compressed lungs, "Please, Touya!"

"Don't fucking call me that," snapped Dabi.

Then there was fire, white-hot fire that melted and charred and burned the skin between Aizawa's shoulder blades. Aizawa twisted and thrashed under the force of Dabi's assault – unable to feel the violent fucking through the sheer torment destroying the skin on his back.

And then there was darkness. Pain existed in the darkness, but there was no sense of self. No past, present, or future – only sheer agony. The distant sound of screams echoed in the darkness, and there was a faint understanding that those screams belonged to someone. But truly, there was only the call of death and fire. It went on for so long, it felt as if an eternity had passed…Aizawa wasn't sure when it stopped – if it ever stopped – he didn't feel Dabi's hips shudder against his ass. He didn't feel the hot liquid spilling inside of him, nor the sharp slap against his ass marking a job well done.

Dabi pulled out and left, but Aizawa couldn't tell.

He didn't even realize that Dabi wasn't touching him anymore, because he could still feel the devil's handprints burnt into his flesh.

God – if there was one – his hazy mind called out to anyone – anything.

And then something answered as a door creaked open.

"Shouta," chided a familiar, rasping voice.

The scent of tobacco cut through the heavy cloud of charred flesh.

"Shouta," said that voice again – calling him back from the darkness – Aizawa knew that voice…

"Giran," croaked Aizawa through dry lips, his voice barely above a rasping whisper.

"Dabi told me I could find you here," muttered Giran with obvious distain, "I wasn't sure what I would find but…this is…fuck, Shouta…"

Aizawa couldn't quite place the emotion in Giran's voice. He didn't really care.

"Help me," he begged quietly, unable to move or open his eyes. A stray tear slid down Aizawa's nose and dripped onto the futon. His fists clenched in the fabric.

"Why should I help you?" asked Giran quietly, "You ran away from me. You fucked every living soul and ruined your body. Why would I do anything for you?"

Shame shuddered through Aizawa's core. He forgot Hizashi, his parents, his cats –

"Just let me die then."

"Don't say that, Shouta."

Anger flickered in Aizawa's weak heart.

"I'm not the only person in the world who can cancel out quirks," rasped Aizawa hatefully, more forcefully now but god, it hurt to talk, it felt like glass in his windpipe and sandpaper on his tongue, "this isn't about my blood, so just kill me already!"

Aizawa coughed violently and the jerking motions made him sob in agony.

"Stubborn as always," tutted Giran as he wiped sweaty tangles of hair from Aizawa's damp skin, "you haven't answered me yet – why should I help you?"

Aizawa grit his teeth.

Why should anyone help him?

He was just…just a slut who begged a monster to fuck him.

And look where it got him?

Aizawa groaned as he shifted his arm. Agony rippled in his skin as he reached out blindly, searching for purchase in the darkness. His fingers brushed something cold and metallic and refreshing – Giran's belt. Slowly, pushing through the ache in every joint, Aizawa pulled at the contraption that barred him from salvation.

Giran peeled Aizawa's fingers away and gently laid his arm back down to the futon.

"I don't want you like this," muttered Giran softly.

Aizawa's stomach churned.

He knew how Giran wanted him: pretty, docile, clean, and virginal.

He was none of those things. He had spent ten years making sure of it.

And yet, almost imperceptibly, Aizawa nodded.

"I'll be good," he whispered, making a deal with a snake to get away from a demon.

"I know you will," whispered Giran, "I know."

Giran pulled out his phone, and Aizawa's heart nearly stopped – but Aizawa heard faint ringing as Giran put the phone to his ear.

"Hey…yeah, I'm with him…call the healer," muttered Giran into the phone, so softly that Aizawa had to strain to hear him.

A healer.

That simple word soothed Aizawa's soul like a balm on cracked skin. Finally, he could close his eyes again. Relief made him tired, or more so allowed him to succumb to the bone deep exhaustion. Aizawa faded out of consciousness before Giran's phone call ended.

"No, I haven't seen the news…what video?"