I've…never written a yaoi fanfic before…let alone anything remotely sexual…so forgive me if it sucks. I have writers block and I need to unblock it by getting this out of my system.

Also, it's told from Roy's POV.

It's not my fault I'm cruel to the people I love.

…Okay, maybe it is.

Melee/Brawl © Nintendo

I never had been the most popular Smasher in the mansion.

People had been annoyed by the fact I wasn't the most talented fighter, or by the fact I had a similar fighting style to my friend's, Marth. That had only been coincidence. We're not even from the same continent. Either way, though, it made me the target of jokes and pranks, and my eventual discharge.

I was only bitter about it for the first few months or so, until I heard news of who they had hired as my replacement. I know most of the Smashers would have been seething with fury, but I like to think of myself as a little more on the intelligent side of the spectrum, compared to the others. I was vastly impressed by this new swordsman. He bested me in everything, except maybe defense and speed. But that was irrelevant, I decided quickly after watching him destroy the others in a set of matches.

After I was let go from the Smash Brothers organization, I told my family back home I was going to stay for a while, maybe a few years, to improve my technique by watching how the newcomers and veterans fought alike. I did want to try and rejoin the roster the next time there were sign ups.

It was one of those days, when I had been practicing the rapid-fire sword slashes of the youthful swordsman they had replaced Young Link with that a messenger came to my apartment door, knocking and requesting my presence.

I quickly pulled my undershirt back on. No one needed to tell me it was impolite to appear before a visitor half-naked, even if I had more muscle tone than the average body builder. I didn't really think of myself as an unattractive person. My shirts had become tight as I became more toned and more mature—I was only seventeen, after all, and it had been two years since my discharge. My hair had grown past my shoulders, to the point where I would need to pull it back to keep it out of my face. Some of the young woman that worked at the diner I was employed at thought it was better this way, so I refrained from trimming it. I kept myself clean, I didn't drink or smoke or do drugs, I visited a dentist every two months (I couldn't wait to see the look on my father's face when he sees how perfect those braces I wore last year have made my teeth), and I took care to make sure I had no plans on a certain day before practicing with my blade.

In all, I thought my life to be rather simple but wonderful, which was why I was surprised when the messenger at the door held out an invitation addressed to me, from the mansion.

He was silent as I opened it, reading over the generic note. "A…reunion? For all the Smashers?" I glanced up, but he simply shrugged and walked away. I wasn't sure what it meant, so I shut the door and returned to my living room, sitting down on the couch and re-reading what was written.

Dear who this may concern,

In celebration of the one year anniversary of the newest roster of fighters, I, Master Hand, have decided to invite all the former members of the Super Smash Brothers Organization to a reunion on Saturday, the twenty eighth of March, to meet with friends old and reminisce the days long gone.

Do not forget, this is not an invitation for your return to the mansion, if you are a former Smasher who is not in the current roster. Please send a reply via phone by Friday, the twenty-seventh, so we may have enough supplies for everyone.

With regards,

Master Hand.

Meet with friends old? Though I wasn't a very popular person within the halls of the organization, I did have a couple of friends who I knew would be glad to see me. And I really did want to meet the man who replaced me, Ike, in person, and give him my congratulations on his fantastic performances.

I quickly rushed to the phone, dialing the number imprinted on the back of the card. It rang twice, before some office assistant I had never met picked up. "Hello, you've reached the desk of Master Hand's secretary. Is this concerning the reunion this weekend?"

"Yes," I replied, masking my excitement beneath a cool, collected tone. "I received an invitation, and I am calling to say I'm going to be coming."

"Name?" came the bored reply.

I hesitated only the slightest. Would the person be one of those who thought me a crude excuse for a fighter and had ridiculed me without cease? There was no helping it if it was. "Roy," I said.

"Ah, yes. Alright. We'll be seeing you on Saturday." I opened my mouth to speak again, but the secretary hung up on me. I recovered from this surprise act of rudeness quickly, and set the phone back in its cradle.

A reunion, and it was only three days away! There was no point in trying to hide my joy. So I punched a hole right through the wall splitting my living room from the kitchen in a moment of pure immature glee.

Of course, I paid when the action broke my ring finger.

nex

Saturday came all too soon. I drove to the mansion—it was too far of a walk for anything else. My finger was in a splint, but it didn't really hurt too much, unless someone tried to grab it. I had chosen to wore something more casual than what I had normally garbed in when I had been a Smasher—an old pair of cream slacks, cheap loafers (no one said I was getting any money from my father), an old red shirt and a blue jacket, trimmed with gold, similar to the tunic that was hanging in my closet. For once, I wasn't wearing my circlet that I was so well known for; I had simply settled to pull what hair I could into a loose ponytail, though my bangs were not yet long enough to join the rest of the flame-colored locks.

I pulled into the private parking spots beneath the mansion, using my old Smashers ID to gain access. Normally, I wasn't registered, but today it was clear my number had been reprogrammed into the system. I parked my car into one of the visitor spots and hurriedly made my way back upstairs, into the mansion proper.

It was even more spectacular than I remembered. Reds and purples and browns flooded my vision, giving the same rich, warm environment I had known so well, the same one that had been my home during the years I had spent in the mansion (people didn't age while they lived there. If all was to be said, I was actually in my mid-twenties). The furniture was as nice as ever, restored by the unseen forces that kept the place in order.

I didn't need to be told where the reunion would be taking place. I traversed the halls, taking my time to feel the nostalgia from times gone by. How I missed this place, despite my general dislike among the others. My resolve to return to the next roster only rose as I approached the central meeting rooms. If my suspicions where correct, they would have taken down the walls separating the rooms, making one big enough to house the thirty plus people that would be there. My feet walked of their own accord, my mind drifting off to sweet memories.

Only five minutes had passed before I reached my destination. I had been slightly late—the room was already filled with familiar faces, both from media and from personal experience.

The ones I had known from my time in the mansion didn't look a day older than I remembered them, and the same went for the newcomers. I couldn't help but wonder if they would recognize me—I had grown older, after all, though, regrettably, not taller. I dismissed the thought. The second they saw me, the five-foot-three, red-head boy, they would know who I was.

This was why I barely got four steps into the room before I got tackled. "ROY!" someone screamed in my face. I cried out in a mixture of surprise and laughter as I recognized the man who had hugged me so tightly my feet were dangling off the ground.

"Hi there, Captain Falcon," I said, trying to not sound as breathless as I was. The man was insanely strong. "It's great to see you again, now, can you put me down?" He dropped me, but quickly grabbed me back in a chokehold, ruffling my already messy hair.

"I'm glad you came, kid!" he boomed, smiling even wider than I was. "Some o' us were worried you'd ditch on this!" I managed to pull free of his crushing grip, reaching up to fix my ponytail.

"I wouldn't have missed it," I beamed, forcing myself to ignore the less than pleased glares I was getting from some of the other veterans. I didn't need to be reminded of the fact I wasn't the most famous man in the roster. I couldn't help but scour for my other friends, though.

Link was the first I spotted. He was in a conversation with Zelda, but he did pause to glance over the woman's shoulder and wave with a smile. I waved back, resolving to get in a couple of words with the blond Hylian before the day was over. Next I met the twin gazes of Nana and Popo. They were sitting with Chibi, the name I had heard many call the youthful man who had been Young Link's replacement. I was greeted with double cries of "Hey Roy!" and a pair of waving hands that was wild enough to smack Chibi in the face.

That only left one person. Captain Falcon already seemed to know, and he grasped my shoulders, leaning over to speak into my ear. "Just so ya know, kid," he said, "Remember how Marth admitted to being gay a couple o' years ago, when he tried to ask you out?" I nodded. How could I forget? "Well, he an' Ike are hooked up, now. Ike's a vicious fighter, so be careful 'round him, a'ight? He can be…overprotective."

So, my idol was also a homosexual. I wasn't too surprised—I had been shocked by Marth's admission, but I had quickly found that gay people weren't any different than normal. I, personally, was straight, but that hadn't stopped me and Marth from being friends until the day I received my pink slip. "Alright, thanks for the warning, Captain," I said. He slapped me on the back and walked off, to go and annoy the man I knew to be Snake.

I finally found the face I was searching for. Marth was sitting in a corner of the room, speaking with the much larger blue-haired man that could only be Ike, leaning against his massive shoulder and his hand entwined with the other male's. I made a beeline for the couple, skirting past some of the Pokémon and Wario.

Marth glanced up from his conversation, meeting my gaze. In a split second, his small, timid smile grew to one of great joy. "Roy!" He stood, untangling himself from Ike to run forward and embrace me in a tight hug. "Roy, you midget, I was worried you'd not come at all!"

"Me?" I replied, hugging my old friend back, "Miss a chance to see you all again? Did someone cave your brains in? Of course I would come! I'm here now, aren't I?" I got a playful punch in the shoulder in reply.

The blue-haired Prince grinned stupidly down at me, almost as if in awe that I was here. I couldn't help but feel the same way—it was a lonely life without a close friend to talk to. "Oh, Roy!" He stepped back next to me. "This is Ike. I was so surprised when I found out he was a homosexual as well! Ike, this is Roy. He's my old friend, the one I was telling you about."

Ike gave me a surprisingly hostile glare that made my smile dim slightly. He stood up from his chair, peering down to observe me. I really did feel like a midget, now that I was in the presence of the tall man. "Hello…Roy…"

"Hello, Ike," I said, still managing to remain a cheery demeanor despite the coldness with which he watched me. "It's an honor to meet the man who took my place in this mansion." I extended my hand to shake, but he didn't move a muscle in response. Slightly surprised and embarrassed, I lowered my arm, curling my fingers into a light fist.

"Be nice, Ike," Marth reprimanded softly. "Roy's just a friend, alright? Now, I'm going to go get some punch. Do you want anything, either of you?"

"A glass would be wonderful," I replied.

"Nothing for me," said Ike distantly, still glaring at me.

"Alright," Marth said with a smile, before walking towards the buffet table. I watched him curiously, then smirked as he bumped into Peach, and wound up striking a conversation with the young Princess.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, without warning, and I glanced back over to see Ike had grasped my arm, scowling. "You're just a friend, right?" he demanded quietly.

I blinked at the hostility. "…Yes," I said. "I've known Marth since the second roster call." This was the perfect opportunity to say what I wanted to say to the man. "By the way, I've been wanting to congratulate you."

"For what?"

If anything, his gaze only became harder. I swallowed, trying to maintain my smile. The man was intimidating like no other person could imagine. "I was the person that was replaced by you. I've been watching your swordsman skills, and I have to say, I'm impressed beyond words. It's only good to the reputation of the Smashers that you took my place. You're the better fighter in every way." I couldn't help but let a challenge slip into my tone. "Of course, the next time they make a roster call, I'm going to try and return, so be prepared!"

The blue-haired man might have said something in reply—I wasn't really sure if I wanted to hear it, from the way his brow furrowed—but Marth came to the rescue then, handing me my drink. "There you go, Roy," he said warmly. "It's so great to see you again. I'm sure the others will be just as pleased!"

"I hope so," I responded, stepping back and out of Ike's grasp. The man regarded me for another moment, before turning away, bowing his head slightly.

"…I'm not feeling very well," Ike muttered. "Marth, I'm going to go rest for a little bit."

The Prince frowned with concern. "Are you going to return?" he asked.

"Not if I don't get better," he replied. He ducked in, to kiss Marth on the forehead. "See you later." And then he was gone, whisking out of the room in a flutter of his red cape.

I watched the door for a second, wondering if I had said something to upset him. He was more distant than I had thought he would be. He always looked so confident on the battlefield. "Ah," Marth said. "He's a chore to be around sometimes, but he's still a good person, at heart. He's so kind…" He glanced at me. "Well, missing one evening with him won't kill me. Please, Roy, tell me about how you've been!"

nex

It was after midnight that Master Hand finally asked the visitors to leave. I said my good-byes to Link and Captain Falcon. Nana and Popo had already gone to bed, so I had missed them. I wasn't upset, though, considering I had already had a chance to speak with the twins. The last person to see me out was Marth.

"I'm sorry Ike was so rude," he said while giving me a firm hug farewell. "He's normally not such a jerk, I promise. I'm going to bet he went to the hospital ward, because he didn't come back… But that's alright." He stepped back, smiling at me. "Roy, it was so wonderful to see you again."

"Same here," I replied. "At least, now we don't have to fall out of contact for so long again," I added, patting my pocket, where the piece of paper Marth's e-mail address had been scribbled onto resided. "I'll talk to you the next chance I get, I promise."

"Of course! See you later, Roy!" One last firm handshake-bear hug combination, and Marth went off to say goodbye to Mewtwo. I turned and made my way back to the underground parking structure, twirling my keys around my finger.

I would be back, I promised myself as the hallways quickly emptied out, so I was walking alone. I would come back and gain a position in this mansion. I wanted to be a Smasher again, and the night had only increased my resolve to return.

In the thrill of the moment, of reminiscing seeing old friends once again, I did not notice the hard object that swung at my head until it connected with the back of my skull, sending me tumbling forward, instantly unconscious.

nex

My head swam horribly by the time I came to. Everything was dark, like the blackness of unconsciousness still floated across my eyelids. It hurt to open my eyes, to try and see where I was, or what was happening.

The first thing that reached my awareness was that my arms had been pulled above my head. Cold steel bit into my wrists, pinning them roughly together. I could feel welts already from the friction, and warm, sticky liquid oozed down my arms, staining my jacket sleeves. I was tied up, I realized, finding the energy to open my eyes. The next thing I discovered was that my wrists were tied by a chain to the headboard of a bed.

My heart skipped in its rhythm. Why was I bound so roughly to a bed frame? Let alone, why had someone kidnapped me in the first place? That was the only explanation I could think of how I got there, but it didn't answer those questions. The person had even taken my shoes off.

I forced the rising panic down and took a good look at my surroundings. I was in a small room, perhaps a storage room. The bed had been hastily assembled, from the way it was set in the room. To one side was a small table, on top of which a miniature duffel bag rested. The edges were stained a dark red, almost like… like someone had grabbed the bag while their hands were bloody. A single light dangled from the ceiling, like a harsh, artificial sun that burned my retinas. There was only one exit from the room, a thick steel door that was clearly locked.

"Fuck…" I whispered, tugging at the chain binding my hands to the thick wood. It stung bitterly, but I was too frightened to really notice. "What… What is going on?" I asked to no one in particular. My head throbbed like it had been hit by a train. Maybe this was a dream. Maybe this was a dream and I was only imagining the pain, the ache, the terror… I was going to wake up in a minute, and I would be in my own bed, curled tightly under the warm covers and at risk of a spider bite at absolute worst.

But the more time that passed, the more that theory seemed to be only that—a theory. That what was happening was real. That someone had really knocked me out, taken me to god-knew-where, and left me like this. Was someone going to try and starve me to death? Let me rot until I died of dehydration? Or worse?

No. If that was the case, they wouldn't have tied me to a fucking bed. It was worse. I wasn't really sure how worse 'worse' was going to be, but deep down I knew the night had just gone to the most vile hell I could think of.

The sudden rattling of a doorknob startled me, and I squeaked in horror. The single door swung open, and a figure, cloaked in black, hood pulled over their face, slipped inside. They turned, closing and locking the slab of steel behind them. The echoing boom of the tumblers sliding into place as the person turned the key sounded like God sealing my fate.

"Who are you?" I demanded hoarsely, trying to not sound nearly as terrified as I felt. The person glanced at me wordlessly, like they were observing me. Like I was some sort of inanimate object. "Answer me!"

"I'm surprised you woke so fast," the man rumbled. My blood ran absolutely cold as I recognized the unforgiving tone. "Well, that's not to your advantage, I suppose." He discarded the black cloak, revealing his tall, massive form, his stony blue eyes boring holes through me.

"I-Ike?" I gasped in horror. "What…what is this? What is going on? Why am I—… God dammit, what do you want?" I shrieked as he stepped forward, to the bedside. I inched as far away from him as possible, fear pounding through every inch of my frame.

He rested a hand on the edge of the mattress, leaning forward so he could peer directly down at my face. I wanted to look away, to not meet his eyes, but that stony gaze transfixed me, filling me with such horrible dread that breaking away would never become possible. "You said you were Roy, am I right?" he asked quietly. Unable to find my voice, I nodded meekly. "Of course I'm right. No one would be able to mistake someone else for you."

I tried to regain my voice, to try and ask again what was going on. Something eventually reached my throat, and I managed to speak. "What do you…want, you bastard?"

His hand moved so fast, I had no time to prepare for the vicious backhand the man dealt me. My jaw gaped in a silent yelp, the breath startled from my lungs. Before I even knew what had happened, I felt a sudden weight on my person. Forcing air back into my chest and the stinging to the back of my mind, I glanced back up to see Ike had leapt on top of me, straddling my hips and resting his hands on my abdomen. "What do I want?" he echoed. Then, at last, the cold, emotionless demeanor broke as he grinned savagely. "I want you."

"M-me?" I squeaked, still trying to figure out what was going on. "What…what do you want with…m-me?" I struggled weakly beneath him, trying to pull my legs free of his crushing weight. "I…I don't have anything you'd want!"

"Oh, is that it?" Ike leaned forward, so he was resting his crossed arms on my chest, his face only inches from my own. I swallowed roughly, praying that it was only joke, that the blue-haired man was only playing a cruel, sick prank on me. "You, Roy, are an utter fool." He reached forward—I flinched away, but he managed to catch the side of my face in his grasp, holding it in place. "How old are you?"

How old was I? What a weird question. One that did not seem appropriate at this time. I didn't answer, deciding to test and see if retaining my right to remain silent would help. His face contorted in anger as he realized that, and he grabbed my ear, crushing the cartilage painfully in his fist. "I asked, how old are you?" he snapped.

"S-seventeen," I whimpered, pressing my eyes shut to try and avoid looking at the man. The grip slackened on my ear, but I didn't relax the least. "I'm…seventeen…"

He didn't say anything in response for a long moment, instead raising his hand to run his thick fingers through my hair, like I was some sort of pet. I focused on regulating my breathing, desperately doing what I could to ignore the tender touch. "Seventeen isn't bad at all," he muttered. "You look…younger…" His hand returned to my cheek, his thumb running across my upper lip. "…Tell me, Roy, have you ever kissed anyone?"

If the age question had been weird, this surpassed it. Had I ever kissed anyone? Of course not. I had spent the early years of my life being in Elibe, in my home, learning how to write and fight and be the best, most perfect person I could be. Then I spent so much time as a Smasher… And my recent life had been too focused on myself to really think about dating.

My personal thoughts were clearly taking too long for Ike, as he tightened his grip on my cheekbone. "Answer me, now," he growled. "Or I'll break your fucking little face."

"N-no!" I cried weakly. "I've…never dated…anyone…anything…" I shuddered instinctually as his hand trailed down my chin, past my neck and to my jacket hem. He fingered the fabric for a brief moment, frowning as he glanced at my arms, still bound tightly above my head. Silently, he reached over to the duffel bag with his free hand, digging through it until he retrieved a small knife. "W-what are you doing?" I asked desperately.

Without the slightest warning, he lunged forward. I cried out in horror, expecting to feel the bite of the blade entering my shoulder. Instead, I felt the fabric of my jacket and shirt being torn at, the sleeves shredded by the knife. It wasn't until he managed to pull the jacket off my body and began to work at my shirt that I realized he was trying to undress me. "S-stop!" I squealed. "Please!"

He didn't stop, though, not until he'd finished tearing my shirt down the front so he could cast it aside, revealing my bare chest. The sudden blast of cold air made me shiver, though it was more from pure fear. I squeezed my eyes shut as I felt him shift above me, undoing his own armor and tunic. In less than a minute, he was shirtless as well, the skin of his stomach brushing my own uncomfortably.

"Marth is such a coward," Ike murmured, taking my face in his hands again and forcing me to meet his eyes. "We've been together for five whole months, and he's still refusing the whole point of a relationship—the sex, you know? He talks about this whole 'get to know my partner better' shit and sometimes refuses to even sleep in the same room as me." He laughed, once, bitterly, before leaning over again, burying his forehead into the crook between my neck and collarbone. His breath felt hot against my skin, and smelled of alcohol. His left hand left my cheek, his fingers brushing lightly down my front, tracing the defined lines of my stomach. "He's a pretty boy, enough so that I'd want to do him a couple times of the week, when he's not being such a whiney bitch." He sat back up, peering down at me lustfully. I'd never seen a more disgusting expression on a person.

"You, on the other hand…" Both his hands slid to the spaces below my ribcage, almost marveling at the fact I kept myself so remarkably clean-shaven. Or, so I hoped. Actually, I was hoping he was realizing what he was really doing, but the expression on his face only grew more greedy, more wanting. "I have never in my life seen a more beautiful person. It's amazing you're still a virgin, at this age… By now, someone like you should be absolutely wrecked." Oh, thanks? I thought, my breath rate once again increasing. "But no… Luck would have it that the most perfect body I've ever seen is completely untainted! A gemstone among rocks… A gemstone of every color, but overall rimmed by a red wreath of beauty… The most beautiful jewel to ever exist on this earth… Even something like that must be destroyed, no? If you don't do it yourself, you'll miss the opportunity. And then you'll never get to find out if this perfect crystal is just as wonderful when its first shattered."

I felt his hands slide down farther, pausing when they reached my hips. I whimpered weakly, trying to no avail to escape his grasp as he hooked his fingers around the waistband of my slacks. "I found myself the perfect gemstone, now I must do my duty and break this perfection!"

He released his grip on my pants, instead shifting to his own. I screwed my eyes shut in utter horror as he stripped the rest of his clothing off. I was far from spared, I realized soon enough, as he snatched at my hips again, tearing at the fabric protecting my legs. I could do nothing but yelp in disgust and fright. I'd never been naked around anyone before, not since I had been a baby in diapers, let alone see someone just as bare. Now both were happening against my will.

I squirmed beneath him, as I felt him press against my smaller body. His erection throbbed against me painfully, in a pain that really nullified the ache in my arms and wrists and cheek. It felt truly invasive, truly like I was nothing more than a pawn in some psycho's freak fantasies. And I was. Tied to a bed in a room I'd never seen before, likely far from civilization, wearing nothing, at this man's complete mercy… I could do absolutely nothing.

Now that there was no more fabric in the way of his hands, they roamed a lot more freely, the nails digging into my flesh until it tore and bled. His mouth wandered across the new wounds, lapping up the blood like it was some tasty drink, his teeth digging into skin where he didn't corrupt it with his fingers. I bit back my yells of pain, my lip quavering as I simpered, praying it would just end. That some divine light would strike one of us down. Preferably me. It wasn't like I could escape, even if I wasn't pinned down and being groped. Then he would never get the satisfaction of stealing my virginity, my innocence, and he could only be mad at himself.

But then… He might take it out on Marth. I froze, fear flooding my chest. My best friend… If I died, if I pushed Ike to murder me, then he would only be even more pissed off. And if I was dead… Marth would be almost guaranteed to reap the penalty. He'd hurt the man that loved him, an innocent person who had nothing to do with this.

I didn't want to suffer. Not in the least. Maybe it would be better if Ike died. But there was no way to kill him… He was in control. The only thing I could do was take it, and pray I would come out alive, and Marth would never have to be hurt by it. Never know his significant other attacked his friend.

Ike shifted on top of me, moving to sit on my chest. I gasped as his sheer weight crushed my ribcage, doing my best to ignore everything. His hand grabbed my jaw, jerking my head forward painfully. "Suck it, you little slut," he ordered. "And if I feel teeth, I will pull each and every one of them out with my bare hands."

I didn't really have a choice. Hesitantly, unwillingly, I complied, though he more forced himself into my mouth than anything. I choked on the hard shaft of flesh, resisting the insanely strong urge to bite down, cause him the same pain physically he was doing to me mentally… My thoughts were cut off as he thrust in, and again, and again. I curled my fingers around the chain binding my wrists, doing everything I possibly could to distract my mind from the horrors I was experiencing. I could barely breath, let alone shout in terror and pain, as much as I wanted to.

He moaned in pleasure as I tried to pull away, to get even one tiny gasp of air. He didn't let me, though, pushing my head against the excuses for pillows that lay on the mattress. I let out a muffled shriek, thrashing around as best I could, doing everything to escape and breath. I couldn't die. If I died because of something as stupid as oral sex… It was tempting, to succumb and perish, but I wouldn't let myself. I couldn't let myself.

The message finally seemed to get to him that I needed air to survive, as his constant pounding relented slightly. I took advantage of it, inhaling as much air as I possibly could in the brief reprieve. My lungs were not nearly filled, but he decided I'd been given enough time, and picked his pace back up. I wanted to do something, anything, to show my disgust, though his body absolutely crushed my entire frame in, restricting my breathing and movement. I wanted it to end… It tasted absolutely horrible, felt absolutely horrible…

The blue-haired man groaned in relief as he came, finally letting up on his rhythm, but not actually pulling away until I was forced to swallow the bitter liquid or choke and die on it. My stomach churned in horror, threatening to rebuke, but I fought the urge down. It would only make things worse, destroy my chances of even surviving the night…

He shifted so he was laying completely on top of me again, his face centimeters from my own. I tried to look away, tried to hide the tears that were welling up in my eyes, but he grabbed my chin roughly, forcing my head back to face his. "So beautiful," he murmured, wiping the ooze and saliva off my chin with his thumb. "And you were never captured and sold as some sort of pleasure slave… You make a good little whore."

"P-please, Ike," I begged hoarsely, barely able to speak. "S-stop this… I…please…I b-beg of you…" I would have said more, but he pressed his mouth to mine roughly, silencing my voice again. There was absolutely no passion in the kiss, only forcefulness and greed. I didn't really know how I could know, but… I had always imagined it to be so much nicer. It felt like he was suffocating me. I was pretty sure he would hold true the same threat with my teeth, so I once again resisted the urge to bite down as his tongue invaded, exploring every inch it could reach. I reeled with horror, barely able to keep myself from losing my last meal. His hands were wandering again, pausing over my highly un-aroused crotch, almost as if it was a surprise I wasn't enjoying anything he was doing.

He pulled away, sitting up, so he was sitting on my hips, his knees on either side of my body. "Little bitches shouldn't be so uninterested in my pleasures," he snarled, grasping my member in his crushing grip. I gasped in pain, truly starting to feel the tears roll down my cheeks. "You'll regret keeping yourself so perfect," he promised. As if I wasn't already.

I can't remember for sure what happened next. One second, he was sitting on me, and then the next, he was nothing more than a flurry of motion, laying himself flat and shifting his hands beneath me. I had steeled myself already for what I knew was coming, but the utterly searing pain that I had been dreading since I had realized he was nothing more than a rapist made everything else feel insignificant. The yells I had been restraining finally broke, and I screamed absolute bloody murder, begging between gasps for air and the agonizing thrusts that he stop.

Every second that passed I pleaded harder, and every word that escaped my lips only made it worse. I couldn't find the resolve to simply lay there and take it, not anymore. Not even the thoughts of what would happen to Marth if Ike didn't get his complete fill of my own body could distract me. I just wanted it to all stop, to end… I waited for some sort of blessing, for my body to fail me, for death. But I was unable to even pass out, let alone find the sweet nothingness of eternal slumber.

His lips descended on my own again, muffling my shrieks of pure, unbridled terror. I was considering holding my breath, until I died, but it was too hard to concentrate enough to manage even that. My mind was blank, my muscles tense with pain, my lungs still wasting air on screams, my eyes shut as tightly as I could manage, unable to even look my former idol in the face.

"Keep screaming," he husked, trailing his bottom lip across my cheeks, drinking in my tears. His fingers dug into the small of my back painfully, feeling each individual bump of my spine. I had been reduced to mere whimpers, choking out a small cry every time he thrust himself in. "Come on, you whore, scream!"

Another long, agonized shout escaped from my chest involuntarily, one that he instantly smothered. I jerked at the chain binding my wrists, praying for some miracle, that the metal would break and I could lower my arms. The strain in my shoulders was becoming intensely painful, though it couldn't match the flaming ache in my backside.

He came a second time, moaning with ecstasy while I whined with pain and terror. His harsh rhythm subsided, his pants loud in my ear. "Heh… You're such a slut," he laughed breathlessly, pulling himself free of my body at last. "But you're so beautiful in pain. I've definitely got enough energy for another go around, what do you think?" He grinned at me, and I downright panicked.

I thrashed about with renewed vigor, digging my legs into the mattress to try and find a grip. It hurt to move—it felt like I had been burned to a crisp, then frozen, then shattered and reassembled. Ike seemed to enjoy my struggle, as he did nothing but watch me greedily as I flailed. "Please!" I wailed. "Let me go! L-Let me go! Please, don't do this! Please!"

I felt his hand slide down to my thigh, pinching the tender flesh painfully. "Oh, I'll do what I want," he sneered. "You're just an object for my enjoyment!" He grasped my legs, hoisting them over his own body, his hands clutching my hips again and his mouth tearing at my shoulders and chest. I struggled helplessly, begging with every breath he come to his senses, that he let me alone. It was what he wanted, I knew, but I couldn't help myself. I was so utterly helpless…

Something occurred to me faintly. Maybe I could try and shove him off me. I had my legs wrapped around his waist already, if I could somehow find the strength to move his massive form before he decided he wanted to flat out rape me again… I sucked in my breath, clenching my fists until my nails dug into my palms and bled. He didn't seem to feel me tense—if anything, he probably enjoyed it, which made me feel even sicker.

God give me hope, I thought, before shifting my legs beneath Ike and pushing with all my strength. The man had not been expecting me to fight back anymore, and it was obvious by the expression on his face as he tumbled off the bed and onto the floor. I heard a loud smack, like bone hitting metal, and I prayed that maybe, just maybe, he'd hit his head on the ground and died.

Luck wasn't on my side, though, and I shrunk into the mattress in fright as he scrambled back onto his feet, cursing violently. He grasped the back of his head, his eyes blazing with pure fury. I curled up the best I could, trying to put as much distance between him and myself as possible. He hadn't even been knocked unconscious. He was just going to be furious.

He stooped down, grabbing something off the ground, before stalking over to his duffel bag. He dug around in it for a few moments, before pulling out two strands of rope and…a spoon? He set the spoon and what I realized to be my belt to the side, making headway to the end of the bed, before grabbing my ankles and pulling them as far down as he could. I squeaked as he bound each of my feet to either side of the footboard, effectively rendering me completely immobile.

Ike then snatched the belt off the table, folding it over and snapping it taunt. I barely had time to realize what he was doing before the leather descended, slashing a painful cut across my stomach. I cried out in pain, only to feel the makeshift whip swipe my body again.

"Little…fucking…bitch!" he hissed between strikes, eventually climbing back on top me to get a better aim at my chest. I shrieked every time I felt the stinging bite of the hardened hide, my entire front becoming slick with blood. "How…dare…you…try…and…fight…back! I…will…kill…you!"

"Please!" I screamed. "Stop! I beg of you, stop!" I felt the sharp snap across my arms, and my yells increased, my throat burning from the constant shouts. "I'm s-sorry! Please, stop! Please!"

Suddenly, he cast aside the belt, instead reaching over and fumbling to grasp the spoon. He loomed over me, eyes burning like icy fire, before he grabbed my throat and slammed me down as far as I could into the bed without tearing my limbs right out of their sockets. My breath was ragged and uneven, and it nearly stopped completely when I felt the cold edge of the silverware beneath my right eye. "It's taking everything I have right now to not mutilate your beautiful face," he snarled. "How do you think you'd fare if you had only one eye?"

I was too frightened to even pass out from horror. "P-please…no…" I gasped, squeezing my eyes shut and grabbing the chain binding my wrists again, strangling it to keep myself from losing my mind utterly. "D-don't…" He pressed down harder, and I yelped in pain. "Please, Ike! Don't!" I sobbed. I could feel my tears pooling in the spoon's dip, almost as if it was taunting me for being so weak. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please, don't hurt me anymore, please!"

He leaned forward, until he was only an inch from my face, his breath hot and vile. "And why should I stop?" he demanded in a whisper, laced with a lust to hurt something—to hurt me. "Why shouldn't I simply—" He shoved the spoon deeper into my skull, until I could feel it against my eyeball beneath the socket. "—destroy that perfect face of yours and take some of it for myself?"

"I-I'll do anything," I wailed. "I'll do whatever you want, please, just don't… Don't… Please…" I swallowed roughly, half-wondering if he would rape me again, or even ignore my plea and gouge my eye out of its socket. My heart skipped as he pushed the spoon in deeper, my breath catching in my throat and pure terror coursing through me. "Ike, p-please…"

Without warning, Ike pulled away, slipping off of my aching form, walking over to where he had discarded his clothes. I cracked my eye open hesitantly, watching him redress himself, his face finally having lost the ugly expression he had been carrying since he had captured me. I panted, half-expecting him to lunge and inflict more pain, but he simply turned to face me with a dark scowl. "You're a slut," he said coldly. "A dirty whore with a filthy conscious. You can forget about being a virgin, because that's mine. Everything about you is mine." He stepped forward, and I flinched away. "Do you know what you do with gemstones that you've broken?" He didn't wait for my answer. "You throw them away." He grabbed his cloak off the ground and his bag off the table, before turning and exiting the room, closing the door behind him.

I slumped backwards, feeling my face contort as I sobbed. I was already a dead man. I didn't have the energy to escape, the chains were biting into the muscle of my wrists and the ropes into my legs, the door was locked from the outside, and let alone the fact I had just been fucked. What would people say when I disappeared? Would they even know where I was? Or…by the time someone cared enough to actually notice, my body?

To think I had ever admired that man, that I had aspired to be as graceful and powerful of a swordsman as him, that had been foolish. A child's dream, a useless hope. And given the chance to tell this same man that I thought his swordplay was so fascinating and that I was going to try and return to the roster in the next calls… No. I hadn't screwed up. He'd just been one of the worst—no, the worst—human being to ever walk this planet.

A dirty whore with a filthy conscious… How many other people had he broken like this? Captured, raped, and left for dead? And since he was still doing it… He hadn't failed yet. I was positive I was done for. Death just wouldn't come fast enough.

nex

I wasn't really sure when I finally slipped into a fitful half-slumber, filled with nightmares of a blue demon ripping me to shreds and calling me beautiful at the same time. I had run out of tears to shed, but I still sobbed emptily, pleading silently for a reprieve from this torture.

The time seemed to wear on, minutes turning to hours to days to years, it felt. The light bulb eventually flickered out and died, and I could only feel jealousy—why couldn't my life end so soon? Why did I have to sit here and suffer because of someone else's insanity? My entire body racked with painful coughs, discharging phlegm from my throat. Blood soaked my body, my collarbone throbbing with a harsh bite he had inflicted upon the flesh. I was covered in bruises and cuts, the chains around my wrists slick with pus and blood. I could see more red than skin on my chest, the normally untouched flesh marred with dark, open wounds.

My whole body ached, threatening to give up on me and let me die. I wanted it to—I willed it to—but it didn't. By some divine prank, I was involuntarily holding on to consciousness, to life, and every second of agony made me hate myself more. I'd given in—I'd offered to do whatever he wanted, to protect myself from a horrible pain I couldn't even imagine. How many other people had he threatened to mutilate so horribly? And how many had been unlucky enough to suffer it?

As the hours passed, I could feel myself slipping… Could feel myself approaching death's door. My throat was drier than a desert, my hands so coated with the sticky crimson that I wondered if I could slip free. Before I had left that room, said my goodbyes to Marth, my only ache had been in my broken finger. I was a fighter, a warrior, a swordsman, and I had taken my fair share of blows, but this…this hurt more than the rest.

All I had wanted to do was to tell him congratulations for taking my place in the tournament.

My body slowly began to shut down, my breath rate slowing, my heart beating only half as fast as it should have. My struggles for freedom had long ceased, my shoulders pulled so awkwardly above my head for so long it didn't even feel like they were attached to my torso anymore. Cold air chilled me to the core, as I was unable to even use my legs to hide beneath a blanket.

I would have never known that a simple meeting could turn out so horribly.

I no longer had the strength to open my eyes, to watch the dark world slowly fade from my vision. I only knew pain—pain spearing every inch of my flesh, like he was still there, still destroying everything about me. Everything about you is mine…

Enough that I was wishing—praying—for death's cold embrace.

I just didn't know if it would ever come.

….

Uh huh.

I got it out of my system, yay ;D

I left you people in suspense? OH TEH NOES. Well. If this one-shot turns out to be popular enough, I might add a second chapter…

EDIT: If I get 10 reviews asking for a second chapter, I shall write one :3

Now to reprimand myself.

I've never written anything that has to do with actual sex before. Ever. Let alone yaoi. Let alone a rapefic. Bunch of firsts. I think Roy's thoughts repeated too often. Eh. I was up writing until five a.m., and I added in a bunch of details from the time I woke to now. It might suck, it might become my most popular one-shot, who knows? I just needed to get it out of my system so I can continue work on Memories and Of Wind and Stars and Child of Darkness ;D

P.S. Reviews/criticisms are loved, flames are not ;D

-Muse