Leave Out All The Rest

Chapter Eight

That night, Seto took a final walk in the downstairs level of his Mansion. He checked that the lights were off and that the TV and Playstation were switched off and that the cookie jar still had eighteen cookies in it. He found everything in order except of course for the fact that there were thirteen cookies in the jar and not eighteen.

He was still grumbling to himself about how this time he would really stop the cook from making anymore cookies as he walked into the hallway leading into the Mansion's bedrooms. He was going to go into his room, but stopped in the middle of the hallway when he saw the door of Yami's room open and saw him sitting on his knees in front of it. His hand extended out before him so he could shake it with the paw of the kitten Mokuba picked off the street a few days ago when he found it starving near the gates of the Manor grounds.

Yami obviously heard him coming up the stairs and looked up at him. Seto blinked and gave him a small smile, which Yami did not return. He instead put his eyes down on the kitten which approached him and tried to nuzzle close to him, but he got up and backed away from it.

"Sorry, it just…came into the room and…err…" he mumbled, and Seto saw a flush spreading on his pale skin as he trailed off uncertainly. He stood staring at his feet where the brown kitten was rubbing against his leg, as though asking him to be friendly again. He stared down at it for a bit, then turned away to go inside the room.

Seto frowned and raised an eyebrow. He bent down to carry the tiny, abandoned kitten and he rose up with it so he could walk into the room after Yami, who was getting into bed. He approached the bed and asked, "How are you feeling now?"

Yami looked at him while pulling the covers closer to himself, "Better, thank you."

Seto looked at him sideways, stealthily, but carefully, searching for signs of deception of any type. He found none, so he approached the bed with slow steps, with the kitten still in his arms. When Yami gave no hint of being uncomfortable with him approaching, he sat on the edge of the bed and placed the kitten on Yami's lap. "She likes you, obviously." He remarked when Yami looked at him blankly.

"Oh," Yami simply said, turning his attention to the small animal.

Silence hung over the room for a while, Yami playing with the kitten, and Seto watching Yami. It was a little awkward, the silence was. But Seto somehow…needed it. He wanted to keep studying Yami like that, sitting there with the little cat, not paying attention to the fact that he was being watched. For some reason, watching the tame, silent person who sat down before him seemed like the most interesting thing in life right now. Even more interesting that watching the impolite, unruly ruffian Yami was in school.

Suddenly, Yami whispered, "Why are you staring at me?"

Seto blinked, realizing that Yami had been aware of him staring. "Sorry," he muttered, but did not stop staring.

"You're still staring at me," Yami remarked, finally looking up to meet his blue eyes.

"Yes, I am."

"I am getting nervous."

Seto saw one of his hands rising to the opposite arm, so he could begin removing the pearly white bandages around it. Seto scowled and admonished, "Don't do that Yami!"

"It's making me uncomfortable. It's itching." Yami stated flatly. "And besides, there's no point in keeping them on," he added, resuming his almost-mechanical actions. He seemed to be unaware of anything going on save for his task of undoing the bandages. Until the kitty started licking at his fingertips. He immediately abandoned his task and pulled the animal's tiny body near, hugging it closer to his chest. By doing that, he obviously pulled on his half-shattered chest. And so, immediately, he let the kitten go and gasped loudly in pain, doubling over slightly with the intensity of it.

Immediately, Seto was by his side, holding his hand. The brunet felt the small hand he held tightening so much in his hold, as Yami tried to ride the final waves of pain that took him by surprise right then. Yami was panting heavily with exhaustion and Seto had no idea what his own hand was doing, by gently running its fingers through the mass of silky, tri-colored hair.

The kitten was seated on its hind limbs with its head titled sideways, as it stared at its new friend in incomprehension.

A few moments later, Yami's grip on his hand loosened and he seemed to become aware of their position; Seto was sitting right beside him, and had one arm around his shoulders, his hand on Yami's head, while his other hand was holding onto Yami's. Seto's chest was cradling Yami against it gently, so that he was half hugging him in a more than just an interesting position. Too close…

Seto felt him stiffening, obviously uncomfortable with the close physical contact. He immediately moved away, concealing his regret at the sudden wince that appeared on Yami's face when his only support seemed to disappear, forcing him to hold himself up on his own. "Sorry," Seto mumbled, but did not move to help him.

Yami stared at him in annoyance, "Stop looking at me like I'm suffering from rape trauma syndrome!"

The bluntness of the words left Seto speechless for a while, before he scowled and snapped, "Aren't you?"

Yami gave him a pained little smirk and pleasantly informed him, "I think I am way beyond that stage right now." And he sank back against the pillows, picking up the cat once more, this time more carefully. "And we're not going to start discussing this now, so please drop it."

Seto scowled some more, "Sure… let's just not talk about it. It is exactly as simple as having an elephant inside a room, and saying oh nothing is out of place, everything's fine."

"Look…" Yami started then sighed tiredly, before resuming, "I am very tired…and I feel icky and sick and I don't want anything more than digging a hole and crawling in it to stay there forever." Seto pursed his lips and was about to pass a witty remark, before Yami concluded, "I don't want to talk about this. I am sorry if you might think of that as rude but then again I was never known for my manners. So please…stop pushing the subject!"

Seto grudgingly bit down a retort, and went silent, watching Yami dealing with the cat. A while of silence settled comfortably on them, until Seto got an idea.

"Umm…would you like to take a shower? I will be able to put back the bandages."

Yami looked up at him, a slight redness spreading on his features, "I…I don't think I'll be able to…" he paused for a bit, as if not knowing how to phrase it, before he looked down in humiliation and whispered, "Hurts to move much…"

Seto blinked once. "Okay, wait here a second," he said and quickly got up. He didn't know how he made it so quick but within very few moments, he was sitting on the edge of the bed once more, holding out two pills to Yami and a glass of water.

Yami stared at the pills apprehensively.

"More drugs?" he asked, glancing up at Seto sarcastically.

"They'll help." He affirmed with a grin. "Trust me," he added.

Yami took the two pills and downed them with the water, handing Seto the glass once more and settling back against the pillows. "Well? Do you wanna have a quick bath now?" Seto asked, his iron will helping him control the blush that fought to surface onto the fair skin of his face. Completely professional, this was. Nothing to blush or fuss about! He vehemently decided so in his head, hoping that Yami would see that too.

Yami, on the other hand, couldn't hide the redness that spread all over his face and he stuttered, "I think whatever you just gave me will make it even more difficult for me to take a bath…"

Seto stared at him, face blank completely.

"I am pretty sure I implied that I can help you."

Yami's blush darkened. "I am not handicapped to have someone help me take a bath! No!"

Seto raised an eyebrow, gaining some confidence from God-knows-where, "No? You're not handicapped at the moment? You can't even breathe properly. And why can't I help you? Don't worry; I am not particularly feeling like doing anything to you when you're messed up like this."

At that, Yami's blush darkened even more, but an affronted look appeared in his eyes, "Messed up? And I suppose you're going to enlighten me on what the fuck that means, won't you?" and he crossed his arms.

He might have looked threatening if it wasn't for the way he flinched when he moved.

"I meant that I am not interested in molesting you when you have almost half your body smashed like that." Seto pleasantly told him, getting up to walk into the bathroom, keeping the door open as he ran the water into the huge tub, which he had plugged closed. "I did not mean it in any other way, and even if I did, it won't be very far from the truth," he called, while pouring some of the rose-smelling bath foam into the water, along with the running stream pouring from the faucet.

And just as he was adjusting the water's temperature, he heard Yami cursing, grumbling loudly in an extremely offended tone, "Awfully sophisticated and sweet, aren't you?"

Seto rose up to his feet, turning to the bathroom's door and walking out into the room, where he found Yami attempting to stand on his own. He shook his head and approached Yami, taking his arm in his grasp to give him something to lean against. Yami stared up at him in silence so he asked, "What?"

Yami looked down, "N…Nothing…" they made their way towards the bathroom, but halfway through Yami stopped and hissed at him, "I can still bite you, Seto…I swear if you try anything I'll…"

Seto sighed, cutting him off with an exasperated expression, "I am not interested right now, Yami… stop bitching, okay?"

Yami's scowl stayed on his face as they entered the bathroom. Seto couldn't stop the blush this time when Yami stepped away from him slightly, starting to unbutton the oversized pajama top. He stared down at his feet, providing Yami with a little bit of privacy. "Do you need a hand?" he asked quietly, not liking the sounds of pain Yami tried stifling (and failed).

"I might need help with these mummifying things…" Yami's voice came pained. Seto turned to see him standing naked completely, save for the bandages he was wrapped in. Seto kept his cool at seeing the pretty body before him, trying not to stare. But it was impossible and before he could gather enough willpower to tear his eyes away from the slender form Yami had raised an eyebrow, narrowing his eyes, "You could at least have the decency to pretend that you're not staring."

Seto glared, raising an eyebrow, his embarrassment turning to fury, "Oh, do shut up, Yami! You would not have minded me staring at you back in the lockers when you dropped to your knees in front of me." He had to summon every ounce of his strong will not to stare away in shame at the visible wince that brushed Yami's pale features. Harsh…that was truly harsh of him. "Just keep quiet and let me help you," he said coldly, stepping closer to Yami.

The other stayed perfectly still, expression completely blank, as Seto unwrapped the bandages from around his thin chest. He kept his expressions placid as possible as the black and blue shades on Yami's skin appeared. Yami was so silent throughout it all, head bowed, letting Seto take off the bandages without so much as a protest.

"C'mon, get into the water. It's warm," Seto said, tossing the bandages elsewhere.

Yami turned…

And Seto was thanking God that Yami couldn't see him, because there was no power in the world that could have stopped his hand from rising to his mouth, to try and stifle the horrified gasp that wanted to break through his lips at what he saw on Yami's back.

He should not have been surprised. Really. Téa had told him. She told him that Yami had a tattoo. She described to him how it looked like. He should have expected this…

But to actually see for himself…that was different. His eyes got stuck on the colored skin. Angel wings, so, so pretty, detailed and very delicate, spread on Yami's small shoulders, forming a slight arc, with the lower tips of the wings ending near the small of his back. The feathers were given so much detail and attention, making them look even prettier than the concept behind them. But the innocence of the wings, the ultimate beauty of them, was marred darkly by the Gothic-style, old-English script, spelling out the word, 'WHORE', with a line striking through the word. He felt bile rising in his throat, burning it terribly. He couldn't tear his eyes away, even after Yami's body disappeared into the water, a slight purr of happiness leaving those wine-colored lips.

He should have helped Yami get into the tub, but he was too shocked. He had been paralyzed by it. He only came out of it when Yami involuntarily let out a whimper when he challenged the pain for the sake of pulling his knees closer to his chest, wrapping his scarred arms around them. He was looking at the bubbles that had light reflected off them in dozens of different, bright colors, as though they were the most fascinating thing in the world.

Finally, he looked up…

And saw Seto staring at the tattoo.

Immediately, he looked down again. "Umm… that's… err, I…I got it last…last year from the…"

"You don't have to start making up a lie, Yami." Seto stopped him. Yami's head snapped up, and he saw those big crimson eyes staring at him in shock and slight horror, so he slowly sank to his knees beside the tub, sitting on the floor, facing Yami. The other just kept staring at him in shocked silence, so he calmly explained, reaching for the washcloth nearby and dipping it into the water to wet it, "You got that thing when you were thirteen, when your father took you to a tattooist who wouldn't make a fuss out of giving a child a tattoo."

He looked up, away from the now heavy washcloth to see Yami's wide, humiliated crimson eyes that kept wavering away from his.

Seto reached for the side of Yami's face, which he noticed had slight blotchiness, shaped like ragged lines. "Please don't lie to me…I really want to help you," he said, not meeting Yami's eyes and dabbing at his face gently.

Yami blinked and let his eyes fall away from Seto's hand and the washcloth which was, Seto knew, soothing right now. He stared away from him, before burying his head into his knees. Seto caught sight of a sudden wetness appearing on the pale, tanned features, before Yami's face was hidden when he did that. He found himself staring at Yami's head, and his hair which scattered all over his bare arms and his back.

Seto stared at him uncertainly, unsure of what to do. He let the towel drop from his hand, which he raised to place on Yami's head hesitantly. He didn't touch Yami's skin, in case he did not like it. However, he could see the slight, thin tremors running through Yami's body. He wanted to say something, offer some comfort, but Yami suddenly looked up at him, eyes tearful and bloodshot.

"I don't want to go back…" he whimpered, one wet hand rising to clutch at Seto's wrist desperately. "I don't want to go back there…"

"Why won't you go to the police, Yami? No one will think any less of you if you do…" Seto quietly suggested.

At that, a small sob escaped unsuspectingly past Yami's lips, and he whimpered, "I did once… he told them… he told them I am crazy. And they believed him!"

Seto sighed, "You should try once more."

"Do you have…any idea…what happened to me after the first time I tried?" Yami demanded, face angry and wet with tears. "What if I don't get it right this time and they believe him, that I am just a nutcase? I'd love to say he'll kill me, hell, if I knew he'd kill me, I'd do it and fail on purpose just so I can be killed… he won't kill me, he'll do worse. No thank you, I am not willing to try!"

Seto bit his lip slightly as Yami looked away once more. "If he doesn't kill you…doesn't that give you hope…that you have survived for a reason?" he had never been a believer in crap like that, really…but it just seemed so right to think like that right now. Why was Yami still alive till now? There must be a very good reason for it. The world was like that. The law of natural selection was like that. Those who are not needed…die.

Yami looked at him again, silent, tearful…

"Whatever reason that may be…it should make itself known…soon." He mumbled in an unhappy, low voice.

They fell into silence after that. Seto helped Yami clean up until he was feeling so much better, that when he was helped back into the bed after Seto wrapped the bandages around him properly, he fell asleep before his head hit the pillow. Seto had stayed around for a while longer, tidying the room a little bit, even if he knew that that was just an excuse to stay in the room to watch Yami sleep with the cat curled up beside him on the bed.

The next day, Mokuba had made sure to keep Yami company. Seto had protested that Yami may not be up to staying with Mokuba for so long, but Yami reassured him that it was fine and that he was enjoying Mokuba's company very, very much. Eventually, Seto was convinced and he was sure he had heard Yami laugh from where he and Mokuba had been sitting with him in his office.

It was nice, having Yami with them like he was now. Even if he had started showing signs of discomfort at having his drug held from him during the next day to when he was first brought to the Mansion, it gave him a huge spark of hope that with one pill of the painkillers the doctor had given him, Yami managed to make it till the late afternoon without his drug. It made Seto smile and calmly tell Yami on their way back to the guestroom, where Seto had kept the extra shot Bakura had given him the day before, "See? You can make it…"

Yami had smiled and that smile had stayed on his face till the end of the day.

But the next day, the smile had disappeared, as fear started setting in. Yami had told him that he wished to go back home that night. It would do no one any good if his father became too suspicious and on the contrary, it would hinder whatever plan they might have in the future.

As much as Seto was reluctant to let Yami go, he knew the other was correct. They had no other choice. The lesser time Yami spent away from home, the better. The better in the long-run, that is.

So, that afternoon, Yami had gotten dressed in his uniform which was cleaned and fixed after the state it had been in when it was removed from Yami's body and was getting inside Seto's car, after saying goodbye to Mokuba. Seto started driving away, and there was silence in the car.

Seto spoke after a minute of this silence. "Please be careful. Try not to provoke him much."

Yami looked at him in silence, as though wondering if Seto really thought his dad needed to get provoked to act the way he does.

Seto sighed, "Look, just take care for the next few days. I'll pull some strings in school to try and get us a leave for at least two weeks."

Yami nodded keeping his witty retort to himself.

He asked Seto to stop the car outside his house's gates. "He'll see you and notice something is weird. I better make him think that I came walking," Yami explained with sudden calmness that Seto didn't from where it washed over him like that.

Yami opened the door, but before he could put his other leg outside the car, Seto grabbed his arm, halting him. Yami looked back, first at Seto's hand, then raised his questioning crimson eyes to meet Seto's expressionless blue ones. "Seto…?"

Seto stared silently at him for a long while, until confusion appeared on Yami's face, so his gaze wavered and he mumbled, "Please be careful…"

Yami stared at him for a while longer, then shakily offered a very small smile. "Thank you…for everything."

And he got out of the car, closing the door behind him and walking away without a backward glance.

It had been too calm…too suspicious. The way his father welcomed him home…for God's sake, the fact that he actually welcomed him home itself made all the red alarms start off in Yami's mind, putting him on the edge at all times. He was almost positive that when he would go upstairs to his room, he would find it locked, but to his surprise and apprehension, he found that he guessed wrong. The door was opened and his things were exactly in the same place he put them, not one of his shots missing, none of his money taken.

He couldn't help but keep staring behind his back every few seconds as he changed in his room into something more comfortable. Even as he sat on the bed contemplating what was going on, the sudden kindness his father was treating him with, he kept flinching at the slightest of sounds, and glancing worriedly at his room's door. He was expecting the monster to storm in any second to do something nasty to him as usual.

The monster did arrive, but not in a manner he expected. He knocked on the door. For the love of all that was still good in the world…knocked! When Yami hesitantly called him in, not knowing if he was signing the contract of his death or worse, he slowly opened the door and didn't burst in with deafening noise. Yami stared up at him in concealed trepidation as he stood at the foot of the bed.

"You're having dinner with me downstairs today." His father finalized.

"I'm not hu…"

"Seven! Be there Yami, I don't want any arguments." Samuel barked, scowling at him.

Yami, although bewildered by his father's sudden interest in his meals, nodded, not really having any choice. He knew, as the man turned around to march out of the room –and closing the door quietly— behind himself, that something very, very bad was going to happen to him. Was he going to poison him? It was a pleasant thought; at least he'll suffer only one last time, then get relief.

Sighing, and trying not to get hopeful, Yami got up from the bed and headed towards his bathroom to take a shower and get dressed.

At seven, he was sitting at the dinning room table, avoiding his father's gaze, which had been fixed on him ever since he entered the room. He kept his calm, cool façade on, feigning indifference, even if his skin was crawling at how his father was looking at him. He kept his eyes cast down while his hands shuffled the food around with the fork and knife, his stomach too unsettled to be hospitable to any solid food.

"So…" his father suddenly spoke and Yami couldn't help but flinch very slightly at the suddenness of it. He looked up, to see a satisfied smirk on the handsome face, whose owner resumed, "How was the match?"

Yami stared at him for a while. Seto had told him what excuse he used to give them those two days but he wasn't sure if his father was trying to make him blurt out something by this interrogation.

"Our school won…" he finally decided to say. The original team which had gone for the match did win the game.

"Well, congrats."

Yami stared up at him again, hiding his bewilderment. The silence continued for a few more minutes, save for the clink of cutlery against the porcelain of the expensive plates. Yami did not raise his head from his food, until his father pushed a glass of wine towards him.

He eyed it suspiciously for a few seconds then stared up.

"Have some… you don't want?" Samuel asked, raising his own glass to his lips to take a long sip from it.

Yami stared at the glass uncertainly; this was where his suspicions that his father was about to poison him came true.

"No, I don't want," he quietly answered, looking away.

Even if he had been expecting it, he couldn't help but flinch when his hand was grabbed harshly, pressed upon with enough force to break his indifference and make a pained expression surface on his previously placid features. He squirmed against his will against the pain when his father's fingers dug into his arm, where his cuts were still not fully healed.

"I want you to have some, Yami…" Samuel hissed at him, then his voice softened, as he said, "For me…?"

If Yami had the choice, he would kill the man with his bare hands, never mind do anything for him at all. Yami was reminded at that moment of a charming snake, forceful during the attack, soft and pretty before and after it.

He swallowed nervously and took the glass, starting to sip from it. He couldn't taste anything weird, but he knew that the glass wasn't as innocent as it looked. He downed its contents after a minute, allowing himself the very small comfort of the enjoyable, pleasant bitterness of the wine, while waiting for pain to attack him any minute to leave him dead in its wake.

"Here, have another one…" his father handed him another glass. Yami stared at him in silence, trying to ask out of this with his eyes, even if he knew it was quite hopeless. "C'mon, drink it up."

Yami sighed. He knew what was coming next. This wasn't the first and won't be the last time his father intoxicated him with alcohol like this. He figured he should just go along with what was expected of him, since he really thought it was too early to get on his father's wrong side yet.

He drank the new glass of wine…followed by another and another…

The world was spinning slightly around the edges, but he was used to that. He was just waiting now. Soon, his father got up, after dismissing the maid and telling them to leave any dishes to be washed, for tomorrow and that they were to depart from the place within ten minutes at the max. Yami was barely aware of that happening, but he realized suddenly that he was completely alone in the dinning room, with his father moving out of his chair to sit down in the one beside his.

Yami looked with wavering eyes to his side, seeing another glass getting pushed his way. He kept staring at it, not wanting to take it, feeling sick. The feeling was different from usual and he had no idea what was going on. His body was getting hotter for some reason and the comfortable, baggy clothes he was wearing seemed to be suffocating him. He shifted, ignoring the offered glass.

Thankfully, he wasn't forced to drink it this time, but instead, he suddenly found himself wrapped inside two strong, familiar…terrifying arms. He didn't have the will to fight, or he simply knew that it didn't matter, so he allowed himself to stay still while a pair of hot, wet lips trailed along the side of his neck. A hand was slipping inside the waistband of the pair of track pants he was wearing. He knew it was coming…

He shuddered and stiffened in horror when he felt the horrifyingly familiar slender fingers wrapping around his flaccid, uninterested length, slowly stroking him in an attempt to spark a reaction from him. Yami knew that soon he would become hard from the stimulation. It was just the normal reaction of the male's body. It was completely detached from the mind. The nerves and the blood vessels there responded immediately, without consulting the brain as to whether this was okay or not.

But this time, something was stranger. Just like the effect of the alcohol was not the usual one, the effect of his father's touch was different this time.

Usually, with his willpower, he would manage not to get an erection from the touch, except after fifteen minutes of continuous stimulation. It made his father so angry and made Yami amused to try and make the monster tick. But now? After less than ten strokes, he felt his body tingling and a familiar, pleasant, yet very unwanted, burn.

He gasped, squirming and trying to move away, but he was trapped in the strong arms. He turned his wide, horrified eyes onto the crimson eyes that his own were such a perfect, lovelier ersatz of. He saw evil, mischief…a terrible, gloating expression that made a chill run through his overheated body.

"Wha…" he started, but then groaned loudly when a rough thumb ran over the head of his length, making little shudders of pleasure tear through his entire body.

He felt a hot breath near his ear, and heard Samuel whisper, "I put Cilias into your wine, Yami…"

His eyes widened in terror and he froze completely, unsure whether what he heard was true or if his mind was playing tricks on him. No…it couldn't be true…

But it seemed real…it felt real enough, because the drug seemed to be already kicking in. but Yami knew that, with the amount of wine he drank, he most probably overdosed. He knew that it would have no bigger effect on the erection already driving him mad right now, but the side effects would be there…

He whimpered and once more pushed against the arms holding him. But why exactly he tried to get away, he didn't know. Was he trying to run away? Was he trying to delay what was coming? Or was he trying his hardest to free his hands so he could reach down to stroke himself?

"Shhh, Yami…don't fight me now…" his father whispered to him, rising to his feet. Yami was pulled up with him, unable to fight and unable to focus on anything except the sudden, unexpected hardening of his body against his will. He was still young, even if he thought his powerful will when it came to gaining an erection at stimulation, was because of the heroin he had been consuming for the past three years. His body was still at its full energy since he certainly never pleasured himself like most boys his age did, but the only times he was aroused were the times when his father forced him to. That didn't happen a lot, either, since the fucking son of a bitch didn't care about anything except his own pleasure.

He was suddenly aware that he had been placed on the dinning table, his legs dangling off the edge, spread wide, and the man standing between them, hand still stroking him gently. Too gently…too frustratingly gently…

He groaned and tried to get up, but he was pushed down, "Don't move, Yami…"

It was impossible. Yami squirmed, trying to free his hand, which were pinned together above his head on the table, so that he could reach into his pants to stroke himself to completion. He was not even denying it anymore. It was a shameful feeling, to be so aroused suddenly in this small period of time. He wanted to get rid of that erection and allow himself to feel the pain of the rape later. It was easier to deal with it when there was pain. When there was no pleasure while he did…that with his own father.

The touches were too gentle. Too gentle to be real. And they weren't. This was all just another way to break him and make him suffer.

He closed his eyes, trying to shut out the feel sharp teeth nipping at his skin, heightening the feelings and making more of his blood rush to his lower regions, making him feel even more lightheaded and out of focus. He was panting heavily, nails dragging across the surface of the wooden table, fists clenching around the tablecloth as he tried to ignore the completely devastating feeling of being aroused beyond the point where he could form any coherent thought, save for one single plea to be able to find release. He didn't even realize he had started moaning and bucking his hips up, trying to increase the friction of that ever-slow hand against his overly-sensitized skin.

"Does it feel nice, Yami…? Is that why you're making those lovely sounds…" he heard the monster whisper in his ear, his hair tickling the side of Yami's face and hot breath making goosebumps appear on his skin.

He bit on his lip as hard as he could, so he could stifle anymore sounds that might defy him and leave unsuspectingly past his lips. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop his hips from moving around.

"Yami, stop moving!" he was scolded. He opened his eyes that had slid shut sometime during the past few minutes, to stare at his father who was smirking in smugness that made Yami's want to scratch his face increase tenfold.

His hazy eyes tried glaring with as much strength as he could gather and he spat out, even if his voice came out hoarse, "You are an animal…"

His father laughed, shaking his head and making his hair whirl around his head. "That's not the way to speak to me right now Yami…"

And he reached with one hand above his head. He then moved away slightly, making Yami try to make a dash for it. He was grabbed around the waist and hoisted onto the table once more. Thankfully, Yami placed his free hands on the surface of it, which lessened the impact on his still-healing ribs. However, the pain came soon, when both hands were grabbed and twisted behind him, making him land on his chest on the table.

He cried out in pain and defeat, knowing, as his hands were crossed over one another at the wrists that there was no escape out of this one. He felt a cloth getting wrapped around his wrists, then tightened painfully. He struggled, trying to remove his hands from one of the napkins which had been folded on the table, which was now binding him in a rather secure grip.

He sagged tiredly after he felt his father wrap another napkin around the first one, further making sure that he found no escape out of this at all. He took deep, shuddering breaths, trying to calm himself down. He was still hard and he moaned loudly when he realized that what his father told him was not a hoax and was very much a reality.

He felt those rough hands once more on him, this time at the hem of his pants, pulling them down. He whimpered and tried to move away, but found that, with the way his feet were now placed on the floor, arms immobile, torso bent over the table like that, and a larger body pinning him to the table, moving in any way was out of question. He had no choice but to stay there, aroused beyond reason and hurting, and wait as his father undressed him.

The air was cold against his bare skin as the pants were finally pulled off. He was sobbing now, knowing that he was about to get fucked bent over a table and all he wanted to as for, was for his rapist to give a few hard strokes to his neglected, overly-heated flesh.

He could already hear the familiar sound of a zip getting undone. The sound he heard too many times already… he was whimpering and praying for this to be a horrible nightmare and that he would wake up to wipe his face dry from the tears and go back to sleep again. Then the sound was followed by another familiar sound. A small pop…silence for a very small while, then a sucking link noise and another pop. Then the horrifying rhapsody of the series of slurping sounds mingling with a throaty moan of pleasure. This was a nightmare…he was living in a nightmare for sure. How long was he going to stay here?

But the feel of something that was soft, yet hard at the same time…something that was warm and so fucking scary…that feeling was too real for it to be one of the most vivid nightmares he had. It was real. This was real…this was his life and this was what it will be till he died, unless he took action.

He whimpered in horror, trying to get away once more. But it was futile. He felt a strong body bending along with his own, trapping his hands uncomfortably against his back. Then that warm breath was back beside his ear again, whispering, "I won't let you cum until you beg for it, Yami…"

He closed his eyes tightly, letting more tears escape them and he whispered in despair, "Don't…" at exactly the same moment the slick, thick member pressing against his entrance. He groaned in pain, the penetration painful for him without preparation, but more pleasurable for the monster above him, if the moan of pleasure he let out was anything to go by.

It was something familiar. He went through this before. But he was never this aroused. He was never maddened by the thought of reaching his own climax as he was now. Especially as his father changed his angle very slightly, hitting his prostate head-on.

Yami cried out involuntarily, hating himself for it. He whimpered and struggled harder to release himself from his bondage, but he couldn't. His eyes were watering more than ever but he didn't know if this was a side-effect of the Cilias, or if it was because he was crying. He didn't know.

The direct, continuous battering of his prostate was torture when he was so aroused. He knew it was possible to reach orgasm from penetration only, but just when the thought crossed his mind, a hand reached down and firmly grasped the base of his length, making him gasp and lower his head when any hint of orgasm in sight was killed.

"Beg, Yami…beg me…" his father told him, thrusting into him with sure, powerful strokes.

"No…no, no, no, no…" Yami chanted under his breath, forehead resting against the surface of the table, whose tablecloth now had slight droplets of his sweat wetting them. He was not going to do that. He was not going to humiliate himself anymore than this…

"No?" his father asked with a breathless little laugh. He then increased the tempo of his pushed into Yami's body, resuming with a breathless voice, "Maybe not now…"

Yami stayed completely still after that, like a lifeless ragdoll, not resisting being moved around the entire place and not resisting when his father took out a rubber band from his pocket to place it around his rock-hard erection.

His father seemed to have so much stamina, it was unbelievable… he went on and on, taking Yami in different positions and in different areas of the house. A little bit after 10:30PM, Yami's legs couldn't hold him up any longer and he fell to the floor on his knees. Samuel laughed and grabbed his hair, raising his head to place his member against Yami's lips, telling him that since he wanted to swallow his cum like a good little whore, why didn't he say so from the beginning?

At a little after 12:15AM, the man finally stopped, slipping out of Yami's body with a slick, slurping sound, leaving blood and semen to slide down the back of Yami's thighs uncomfortably.

Yami's body crumpled down to the floor, falling off the arm of the armchair in the living room. His eyes were slipping closed, the darkness of unawareness crawling all over his being. He was so tired. He was so tired and sticky and uncomfortable…and still so fucking hard!

Another touch to his shoulder made him whimper and curl up into fetal position. He whimpered and tried to crawl away, but then he heard his father saying gently while stroking his neck, "Good boy…Yami was a good boy today…"

Unconsciously, he moved into the touch, not knowing why he needed it so much even though this was the same person who showed him the different colors of hell on earth.

"Do you want me to remove this, Yami?" his father asked, stroking his hardness which was now so damn agonizingly painful, it was driving him mad. Yami whimpered and nodded pathetically, so Samuel told him with a small pat on the hair, "Then say please…"

Yami closed his eyes in torment and hiccupped while trying to draw in breath properly and he bit his lip hard, tasting blood on his tongue after a little bit. And then he did it…

"P…Please…"

After the restricting rubber band was removed and after two powerful strokes to his long-neglected length, everything ceased to have meaning and after a few bursts of blinding light behind Yami's eyelids, unconsciousness thankfully came and claimed him…

Next day in school, Seto was relieved to see Yami walk in a few minutes before the bell rang. He gave him a curt nod, which Yami responded to with a terrified, shameful look and downcast eyes. Seto raised an eyebrow, but did not approach Yami about it, taking his flushed appearance for being on a drug-high.

Yami had avoided him throughout the entire day, but finally, when it was time for the Chemistry lesson right at the end of the day, Seto heard Yami's now-familiar voice calling him. He turned, to see Yami standing uncertainly a few feet away, holding a tissue paper to his nose and sniffling slightly. His face was slightly flushed at the cheeks and his eyes were watering, so Seto immediately asked, pulling Yami in the janitor's closet nearby, "What's wrong? Why're you crying?"

Yami gave him a smile at that. It was pained…anguished, but it was a smile. "Oh I'm not…really…"

Seto stared suspiciously at him. "Are you high?"

Yami shook his head, "No, not that either. I got an overdose of Cilias slipped into about…five glasses of my wine yesterday…"

Seto's eyes widened impossibly in shock, his mouth falling open.

"'S okay…'m okay…" Yami reassured him, raising the tissue to his small nose once more. "Don't look so scared. Nothing happened…"

Seto knew he was lying. Seto saw right through the façade of indifference. He saw the pain and he saw the anguish and he saw the humiliation. Whatever happened yesterday…it must have been horror. No. That was also a very mild word to use…

"Anyway, that aside…I…err…I thought about what you…what you told me and I'd like…" Yami stuttered then trailed off after a bit.

Seto took the hint immediately. "Do you want to give it a shot Yami? If nothing, it would give you a break from him for a while…"

Yami's face seemed to brighten at that idea and not the one of getting rid of his dependence on drugs.

"Please…" he nodded… "I need help with this."

Seto smiled. Yes…that is what he wanted to do. Help Yami…

A/N: Thank you so much for reading. ^_^

Special thanks to AncientPurebloodPrincessLolita for being downright amazing 3 Love you my dear.

Hathor…