Convergence [1]: Broken

BY : currie
Category: Final Fantasy VIII > Yaoi - Male/Male
Dragon prints: 728
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VIII, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Title: Broken

Author: rhapsodisiac

Raiting: NC-17

Status: Complete

Couples: Seifer/Squall/Zell in different combinations of yum. l

Warnings: M/M, lemon, yaoi, shounen-ai, h/c

Disclaimer: Squaresoft's characters, settings, etc. Bleebly blah bloo bloo.


~ 1. Pain ~

"The world is changed because you are made of ivory and gold. The curves of your lips rewrite history." -- Oscar Wilde, 'The Picture of Dorian Gray'

~*~*~

His arm brushed cold steel as he rolled over in his sleep, summoning prickles of goosebumps to scatter beneath the fine hairs of his forearm. It stirred him enough to take a deep gasp of breath and loll his head to one side, his skull grinding sweat-matted hair against a smooth, shallow projection, nothing more than the rock-hard suggestion of a pillow. A few seconds passed, and he shook with a violent shiver that rolled him over onto his side. An immediate hissing cry fell from his lips, waking him in an instant to clutch at his shoulder and return to his back. Eyes now open, they found the ceiling. All recognition of pain was instantly forgotten as his breath caught.

It was black, the result of decades of collected grime, and lightened to a steely grey as the rounded walls met the floor. Pipes snaked around one another above him; headless, writhing predators. He jumped forwards, locking his elbows to support himself. The door, with its single, diagonal orange stripe; the few strange lights that blinked orange and green around it; the filthy, rusted latrine in the corner: all were horrifying. All were familiar. Even the air’s stale, damp reek of time was familiar as it crept into his lungs, chilling him from the inside.

He knew exactly where he was. Knew it, and could barely manage to force the words into his mind: D-District. He shuddered and swung his legs over the side of the metal bunk, rubbing at his shoulder tenderly-- it had begun to throb rapidly with the heightened pace of his heart. He figured, judging by the kind of pain it was and how the area felt beneath his fingertips, that a ligament had been torn. Of course, he couldn’t remember how; the place seemed to have an aura of forced amnesia. He didn’t know how he had gotten there, or why. A likely theory was that someone had cast a confuse on him before he was captured; he vaguely remembered being knocked out as a child in training, in the throes of a confuse spell, to awaken in the infirmary and not remember what had happened for three days afterwards.

He forced a cynical chuckle-- Seifer had done it, and laughed at him as he stumbled around, spouting gibberish and throwing potiot trt trees. He had finished his tantrum by casting his only blizzaga (a gift from Shiva that he had been saving) on himself, knocking himself so close to death that the infirmary’s phoenix down almost hadn't worked.

The lights went out, jerking him from his reminiscence. This hadn’t happened last time, he remembered, alarmed as he stared blindly around in the dark. A power outage? The doors were all powered electronically, he remembered just as his chamber’s floor shuddered, driving a spike of fear into his throat. It seemed that the outage-- if that was what it was-- was exclusive to his cell. He could feel himself moving downwards quickly, making his body feel lighter. He had to try to get out; someone would likely be coming for him quite soon, and who knew what barbaric practices could befall him then? He jumped blindly for the door, struggling to push it to the side with his palms. It seemed to budge, and he didn’t bother questioning whether this was just his imagination. If he could get it open far enough, perhaps he could squeeze through and jump to one of the circular floors.

The cell clattered to a stop and the door sprung across its frame, bringing in a bright crack of flourescent light to blind him. He stumbled forward in the absence of what he’d been leaning on—right into the strong arms of someone else.

“S-seifer?” He asked aloud, a mere memory stirring between his lips as his face crushed starchy fabric.

“Who the fuck is that?” The voice above him was male, rough, and deeper than he had expected. He internally smacked himself for being so embarassingly deluded. A hand grabbed the back of his shirt collar, spinning him around and sending him into the steel bed he had awoken on. The hard edge jabbed into his stomach, taking all his breath, and he fell forward upon it as he struggled to suck in some air.

He heard fast clicking steps behind him, then weight upon his back as the intruder’s hands grasped at his wrists, pinning him to the surface of the bed. He coughed at the pain in his shoulder and hoped it hadn't been completely dislocated by the sudden jerk. A harsh hiss invaded his left ear. “You think someone’s coming to rescue you?” He chuckled, sheeting the side of Squall's face with the stench of stale breath. He didn’t answer, just waited, keeping his senses alert and ignoring the excruciating strain arcing through his arm. “I promise, you’ll get to be all alone here for a long time. Lots of time to think. I do wish I could stay…You’re a rare one in this place; actually worth spending some time with.” The man pushed his hips forward then, grinding into Squall’s backside. Instinctual panic filled him and he struggled, tugging at his arms, but he only succeeded in forcing himself back harder upon the horrifying bulge behind him. Another chuckle, and then teeth momentarily caught his earlobe as sandpaper stubble scratched his neck. “Don’t worry, I can’t do any more… yet. This time I’ve just been sent to…” He paused, seeming to search for the right words, “*help* you get some peace and quiet. If you want to call it that.” He then tightened his grip on Squall’s wrists and raised his voice, “Pain.”

Squall slumped, pressing a cheek to the steel as his field of vision went black. He felt sick to his stomach, and cold sweat broke his forehead as his temples began to pound. He would have groaned with the pain, but found he could make no sound at all. The voice rose in his ear again, “I had this cast on me once… isn’t it great? Like being skullfucked with a knife. Regen.” For an instant the aching in Squall’s head and stomach disappeared, only to return seeming worse than it had been at first. “That was just so you, y’know, don’t die on us in here.” With a final hip-thrust the man’s weight released him. He slumped to his hands and knees upon the dirty floor as another wave of nausea overtook him, followed by more painlessness. Realizing that he would eventually throw up, he began to crawl shakily in the direction of the toilet, only to be stopped by a hand on his shoulder. “Hold on a minute, kiddo,” loomed the voice from above him as a boot slammed onto his hand. He winced as the nausea came back in unison, his knees buckling and then giving out, leaving him sprawled in the floor with his face in filth. His chest heaved beneath the weight of his own body. “I’ve gotta fuck you with this here needle first,” the voice spat, sounding like a grin, “I almost forgot.” More panic ensued, but now, Squall could barely make himself move. “Don’t worry, little one. It’s just an expression.” With that a prick of pain surged into his right buttock, accompanied by the sound of tearing fabric. His hips twitched forward into the floor, tensing with the jolt as he winced. After a few seconds, that pain was gone, leaving a dull, spreading ache in its wake. “There we go. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” The man paused, as if expecting an answer. “Oh wait, that’s right. Never mind. I’ll see you later, gorgeous.” The foot lifted from his hand and clicked with its companion across the floor, silencing when the door closed.

Squall was alone once more, wishing he’d had the presence of mind to get a glimpse of the man’s face before he was pinned. The hurt went away again, keeping him from getting used it, and came back a minute later, ever harsher. He promptly threw up on the floor beside him as his brain began to get fuzzy. The hum of the fluorescent lights above became distant and finally disappeared, along with the cold floor and the pain that wracked his body as he fell into unconscious bliss.


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