Warning: This chapter contains references to rape and torture

Days Without Sun

Chapter Six: Drifting

Misaki lay on his side curled into a fetal position on the bed in Korovin's playroom.

A tear slipped from his eye and rolled down his cheek following a well-worn trail that had been traversed by all of the others he'd shed already that day. Misaki wondered how many tears he might have left in him.

After what he'd just endured he was surprised really, that any remained.

Despite the pain it caused him, Misaki curled himself tighter. He could hear his torturer singing happily off key as he showered in the next room. Considering what the man had just done to him, the sounds of his own screams still ringing in his ears, this cheerful noise from his captor was an abomination.

Misaki painfully, slowly, moved his arms up, to cover his ears with his hands. He closed his eyes against the blood stained sheets that he lay amongst, against all the terrible visions of what had been done to him, images he feared that had been seared into his memory forever.

The anguished youth wished that he could curl into himself completely, make himself so small he would simply disappear. He had given himself to the man as he'd promised, but that wasn't enough for his captor. Soon after he had submitted, Korovin had flown into frenzy, and had taken what he wanted… and taken… and taken…

It had lasted for hours.

There wasn't an inch of his body that wasn't in pain at the moment. Misaki's scalp still stung from where his hair had been so brutally yanked. His back and torso burned with the raw oozing marks left from Korovin's sharp, raking fingers. In fact, at one point the man had paused to clean scraped skin out from under his nails: they'd collected so much it was affecting his grip on Misaki's blood and sweat slicked flesh.

In addition to this, Korovin had bitten Misaki all over and his slender form was now covered with dark purple bruises, many of them weeping where cruel teeth had broken his skin.

Misaki couldn't run now even if he wanted to. The sadist had even bitten the soles of his feet. From the way they were throbbing the shattered youth doubted if he'd be able to walk. Not that he would have been able to walk anyway. Misaki could feel the fluids still leaking from his torn and battered ass: blood and lube and cum. The pain from his captor's multiple assaults pierced clear into his bowels and filled his low belly with an excruciating ache.

Another sob, in what seemed a never-ending string, lodged in Misaki's cock-bruised throat and he choked on it.

In the time they had been together, Usagi-san had never asked him to minister to him the way the he had been forced to attend to Korovin's vile member.

Misaki moaned softly, wishing now that he had. He'd known that Usagi-san had desired it and he had planned to do it someday. Misaki's grief intensified thinking of the first he'd just "willingly" lost to his tormentor. He resolved right then he would drink Usagi-san dry when they were reunited, until the flavor of his lover obliterated any memory of Korovin's spoiled seed.

As if in agreement with this thought, Misaki's stomach hitched. He gasped with pain as his anguished body was wracked with heaving spasms. Weakly, Misaki tried to push himself up as his stomach clenched and all the cum his captor had spilled down his throat traveled back up it.

Misaki retched, until he thought his own stomach might be coughed out as well.

A thick string of seeded saliva hung from his split and swollen bottom lip. Stiff fingers scrambled to bunch the stained sheets over the mess, sure that such an act of rebellion would merit yet another painful punishment and fearful if Korovin saw it, he might be forced to swallow it back down again.

In his devastated state, even this simple action was too much. Misaki collapsed, gasping. His hands twitched with indecision as to which tender part they should grasp in an attempt at self-soothing… there were just so many.

Misaki felt his mind wander, drunk on the trauma. He closed his eyes again and found his embattled brain take him back to the first time that Usagi-san had touched him.

He knew that some would say the author himself had assaulted him back then, but Misaki knew the truth of it.

He remembered the first time he saw Usami Akihiko: Usagi-san had been hanging all over his brother. Misaki had tried to convince himself at the time he was disgusted by the man's behavior but in reality, from the first moment he'd seen him, he'd been deeply smitten.

Images of his brother's friend had plagued Misaki for days afterward and though the youth had never told this to anyone. He had been too terrified at the time to admit that it wasn't disgust he'd felt at their first meeting: it was desire.

It had been much the same that first time in Usagi-san's apartment. Finding that book, Misaki had been outraged that the man had written those things using his brother's name. But his temper had been fired in no small part by a jealousy towards his nii-chan and he was completely unprepared to deal with these feelings.

Misaki had also been furious to find Usagi-san able to write so freely about things he'd been taught were supposed to be abhorrent. Recurring thoughts he himself fought so hard to repress or only allowed himself to consider hidden beneath his sheets in the darkness of his lonely bedroom.

Misaki had come to believe that despite how dense his brother seemed, Takahiro must have known this on some level. He guessed Takahiro knew the same thing about Akihiko, though it was never spoken of.

The youth had long questioned if this was why he had never met his older brother's best friend before he did. Even the day he first met Usami Akihiko it had been a mistake: he had come home early and Usagi-san had lingered on a visit. Otherwise, they would have just passed each other by as they had been doing for years.

After his brother's terrible accusations the last time he saw Takahiro, Misaki often found himself wondering if this was true, if Takahiro had suspected, why his brother had allowed him to move in with Usagi-san?

Misaki wished Takahiro had understood how much better off he had been learning things from Usagi-san, then for his nii-chan's beloved younger to be tutored about the mechanics of gay sex in a public restroom or the back room of some club eventually.

Maybe Takahiro truly hadn't known anything about his little brother or his friend. But what Misaki hoped to someday convey to Nii-chan and have him realize was that more than sex, Usagi-san had also taught him about love.

Misaki's mind set these thoughts to the side. Thinking about Takahiro only brought him more pain.

Instead he went back to the moment of seeing that first Yayoi novel on Usai-san's coffee table. To be honest, encountering those things spelled out in black and white, had excited him immeasurably. That too had made him furious. So, when he confronted his new tutor and things had worked out the way they had…

In his mind Misaki pictured himself telling Usagi-san all these things now.

We'll be sitting together on the balcony… no wait, on the couch. Usagi-san will be reclining, and I'll be draped his over his chest.

Lost in his thoughts, Misaki was unconscious of the blush that rose to his pale and pain-fevered cheeks.

Misaki could all but feel the comforting expanse of his rabbit's chest, his skinny legs resting between the muscular length of his older lover's long ones. Usagi-san's cool, skilled fingers would be softly stroking his chocolate locks. The man would be making all the soft noises of understanding that had become a lullaby for his boy in those tense moments of uncertain and intimate conversation they shared.

Misaki would quietly relate to Usagi-san how their first time together had been infinitely different than the horror he was now experiencing; how the author's chilled hands had thrilled him. How he had bitten back his cries, telling himself at the time it was a matter of pride keeping silent, but knowing that beneath this, that the real reason he hadn't shouted for help the first time Usagi-san had stroked his virgin cock was because truly he didn't want to give the man any reason to stop.

Misaki's labored breathing became more regular, softer. He could almost hear Usagi-san's smoky purring chuckle.

Usagi-san will gently lift my chin and stare into my eyes and I won't look away this this time.

Not very good at language, Misaki had never considered how many colors of purple there were in the world until he'd looked into Usagi-san's amazing orbs: amethyst, lavender, indigo, lilac, violet, each subtly different but conjurable depending on the man's mood. Misaki decided for this conversation they would be violet, colored deep with thought, tinted with passion.

Usagi-san will raise my head and kiss my lips. He'll laugh and tell me in that irritatingly silky drawl of his that he already knew everything I told him because he understands me so completely. That he has since the first moment he saw me.

He would tell Misaki he would have stopped if he knew his lover had really meant it, because he would never intentionally hurt him, because Misaki was precious to him… because he loved him.

This time, Misaki in his imagined confession told Usagi-san that he felt these same things too, though because the man understood him, of course Usagi-san already knew this as well.

Through the pain that engulfed him, Misaki envisioned Usagi-san wrapping cool arms around him, holding him tighter. He pretended the damp, lumpy pillow he was resting on was the mass of the man's well-muscled chest beneath his heavy head. He strained his scream-scorched ears to hear the comforting steady beat of the heart Usagi-san shared with no one but him.

Misaki felt himself slipping out of consciousness on this last thought.

It was not the first time that had he had left the world that day, but it was the first time it was peace and not pain that carried him away.

Old AN:

Thank you everyone for the reviews. I am still without internet, so I have come into my office just to update and check all your lovely responses so no long notes here. I promise to do better when I have internet back at my house later next week.

I know this is a hard fic, but you asked for it... Thank you for hanging in here with me.

I will answer one question here...Revolnievol asked how I feel when I am writing this.

To be honest, this is the hardest thing I have ever written. I have trouble at times even rereading this stuff when I proof it, so if you see more mistakes than usual... that's why. I think one of the reasons I have been updating this so fast is I need to push through it and get Misaki back where he belongs. Having this stuff in my head makes it very heavy. For some reason, this chapter in particular made me so sad...

I also find myself worrying what will people think to know that one could even consider such things. Unfortunately, the things I have described in this fic exist in the world in ways much more terrifyingly real than what I will ever depict here.

So yeah, I want it to be good and relatively believable, which makes it, as I said very hard to describe. But I am also grateful, as this is really pushing me as a thinker and a writer. So thank you dear readers for the challenge and now you know too why "Uke Flu" Misaki is the way he is: OoC from the manga, but IC after being run through this particular world.

Sincerely,

Cerberus