Disclaimer: I do not own Gravitation. Maki Murakami does.

Prompt: "Would you hurt me, if I asked you to?" Shuichi doesn't mean half of what he says, only half of what he means.

A/N: Loose, loose tie-in to Beloved Snow (chapter three), if you would like. Or not. Just assume, when reading, Eiri doesn't know about the rape.

Rating: M for dark thoughts, dark materials, sexual implications, and implied past rape.

Echoing

"Would you hurt me, if I asked you to?"

He had not meant to say the words, though they had been floating around in his head for a while. The look on Yuki's face at the mere thought made him want to retract the misspoken, unwanted sentence, and make his lover forget the words had been uttered at all.

But one couldn't erase things so easily, could they? No matter how desperately they wanted to.

"Excuse me?"

He wouldn't ask, not intentionally, not verbally. He didn't want Yuki to hurt him, not in the slightest. But he did He thought. He's heard.

They were standing in the kitchen, and for once there was no sight of his lover's sultry laptop, or his notebook of stalled lyrics. There was a tea kettle on the stove, boiling to perfection, and Yuki was hovered over it, one hand resting patiently on the handle, the other curved into a fist beside his leg. A flexing fist, and Shuichi flinched, looking down. He recognized the signs of anger in the novelist better than he did in Hiro.

"Would you … hurt me?" Damn it, but he couldn't stop asking, even if the question made Yuki angry. Because he really wanted to know the answer. "If I asked you to, Yuki, would you hurt me?"

The tea kettle whimpered lowly as the pale hand of words pulled away from its blackened handle, causing Shuichi to look up just in time to see the taller male cross the small kitchen to stand just a step away, pinning him against the counter with the golden look alone. So intense, so fiery. He could almost, if he looked hard enough, see a tint of madness in the breathtaking eyes. Madness he had seen before, under the illusion of friendship and rain.

"What are you talking about?" The words were low, whispered with just enough volume to be heard, the warmth of breath the true meaning of their existence. The teenager shivered under the onslaught of it against his skin, and for a second, everything was right in the world. Everything was as it was supposed to be – he was with Yuki, could smell Yuki, could feel Yuki.

The tea kettle whimpered again, a little louder this time, and reminded him why he was here.

"I ask for it, don't I?" He returned in the gentle whisper, peering up at his lover through his pink-tinged bangs. "And you want to do it. Wrap your hands around my wrists and hold them until they bruise. Kiss my lips until they bleed. Punch me in the gut to force me to my knees, because it makes me cry and my tears are beautiful."

It surprised him, that the eyes weren't so angry anymore, but frightened him, that the emotion that replaced them was one he had not seen before. Sadness? He shook his head, because he could feel this. Something … familiar. Wrong, but right, and he yearned for it so desperately his heart thumped in his chest with stabbing knocks of announced arrival.

"Please hold my wrists," he begged softly. "Please."

And just like that, the emotion was gone, replaced by the coldness he knew so well. He almost shivered in relief as he felt chilled pianist fingers wrap around his wrists, looking away from the amber eyes as the look tightened until it was painful. Wrong, but right.

"Is this what you want?" Yuki asked, emotionless, keeping the grip in place.

("This is what you want. This is what I want. And this is what Eiri Yuki wants. This is what everyone wants from you.")

"Yes," Shuichi whined quietly, shaking just slightly where he stood. Wasn't it?

"You want me to hurt you?" Yuki pressed, tightening the grip.

("I want to do this.")

"You want to hurt me." The correction was automatic, the familiarity of the situation overriding all else. There was a soft-pitched whistle he almost couldn't hear, but understood very well. Empathy flowed, the desire for companionship at its heels. "I always ask. It's only … only natural."

Something was wrong.

Yuki was pushing closer, his movements forcing Shuichi's wrists to bend in known fashion that sent a spike of dim warning to his mind, their bodies shoving together tightly in an uncomfortable position. There was something in him that cried out to be let go, to run, to escape again. To somewhere he didn't know, somewhere safe.

Teeth nipped harshly against his neck. "Why do you want me to hurt you?" And their bodies grinded bitterly, slamming Shuichi's back against the hard wood of the counter, pulling a cry from his throat.

Wrong, so wrong.

("You asked for all of this, you know. You always have.")

"B-because I ask for it. I ask for it. I asked for it all. I always do, I always have. I asked for it."

"How do you want me to hurt you, Shuichi?" Yuki stilled his hips, pressing their faces together, side by side, to whisper in his ear. "How do you want to hurt?"

Like you do, sometimes. Like you do when you're mad, when you don't see me in bed. When it's not me you're with.

A loud, mournful screech cut his words off before they could be spoken, and Shuichi jerked back. Realizing where he was, how he was, what hurt, why it hurt. The tea kettle continued to cry out horrifically, calling for anyone, someone to help take away the pain. But no one was listening.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

"…No!"

Shuichi wrenched his wrists from the iron hold, ducking away from the strong body that had pinned him down, and dashed for the kettle. Holding its handle soothingly as he pulled it from the stove, shaking violently as its cry died down, comforted. Comforted, comforted, but still echoing against the walls.

"Shuichi?"

("I didn't mean it, Tachi!")

("But you asked for it!")

"I…I didn't mean it, Yuki," the singer informed softly, a small, timid smile forming on his face as he placed the kettle onto a heating pad. "I didn't mean it."

Apparently I haven't unpacked my updated prompt list. Gr. So this is what you get. :S

Let me know what you thought, though? Please? Seriously, good things, bad things (eh, not flames). I'm open. :)