Disclaimer: Code Geass – with its characters, settings, and all other borrowed elements here – is the sole property of its creators. In other words, yeah, it's not mine, and I'm not making money out of this. Enjoy the fic; author's note at the very end.

Warnings: I know these are already found in the summary, and scattered in the Author's Notes of previous chapters, but I will make it official here: this chapter contains explicit violence and a graphic rape scene. Oh, and spoilers for the second half of R2, but nothing too major.

I mean it, guys. This isn't for the kiddies. If you think this might offend you, proceed with caution.

Trial and Error

. : 5 : .

Luciano Bradley was known far and wide as the Vampire of Britannia, yet truth be told he could no longer remember the exact point in time at which he'd acquired that nickname.

Perhaps it was when he'd first flirted with an insubordination charge, by disregarding his superior's orders and cheerfully opening fire on an entire camp of refugees that had maybe housed one or two terrorist collaborators. Perhaps it was that day he nonchalantly walked up the steps of a half-century old cathedral, whistling as he emptied his machine gun on the Twelves that had sought sanctuary there. Or perhaps it was when he'd been inducted as Knight of Ten and acquired the Percival for the first time; every year, the natives of Area 16 secretly treated that date as a national day of mourning.

He supposed it didn't matter. After all, it wasn't as if he disliked the nickname. Quite the contrary; he enjoyed the barely-hidden traces of fear whenever he heard his alias being whispered among guards in the hallway, or screamed out by terrified enemy soldiers on the battlefield.

It suited him well, he realized. The rush he felt whenever he charged into battle or slaughtered civilians could only be described as predatory, at best. And right now, as he hovered menacingly over one prone and desperate Suzaku Kururugi, he felt as though he never lived up to that name more than he did today.

"By all means, keep struggling," he mocked in a loud voice, tightening his grip on the boy's wrists as the latter continued to writhe weakly beneath him. He brought his face down, close to his ear. "We all know that's not going to help you in the slightest. Or maybe not; do I need to draw you a diagram?"

"Fuck you," came the harsh reply. The strain in Suzaku's voice took too much of the edge off the curse, but he was amused nonetheless. To think that the Knight of Seven, who was always so polite and solemn and formal, was actually capable of swearing. It sounded strangely awkward (to him, Elevens had no right to use Britannian profanities) and he wouldn't be surprised if this was the first time Suzaku used the expression at all. But he was more interested in the emotions flitting over the boy's face – the way terror, anger, and grogginess all clashed and fought for dominance of that conflicted, faltering emerald gaze.

"Hmm, no, that's not quite how this will work," he drawled, languidly reaching underneath once more and beginning to undo the buttons of the white uniform jacket with his free hand. "But you're close."

There was a vicious snarl (but it was laced with panic, fear) and Suzaku was thrashing once more, challenging his grip with surprising strength for someone who had just been injected with a potent hypnotic. With an irritated sigh he removed his hand as the last button popped free, grabbed a fistful of chestnut hair and slammed the side of his head once more into the cement floor.

"Honestly, Lord Kururugi, it seems a Pavlovian dog would be smarter than you." Suzaku looked disoriented, reeling from the blow and Luciano was able to release his wrists long enough to violently strip off the white garment without resistance, taking the gloves along as he did so. He tossed everything off to the side, not particularly caring where it landed, and grabbed a shoulder to turn the boy flat on his back; he wanted to see more of those emotions, wanted to milk this privilege of seeing the Knight of Seven without his cold, indifferent mask for all it was worth.

"Lord Bradley..." Suzaku's voice was faint, slightly hoarse and yet still unable to conceal the note of alarm as his fingers moved to the collar of the black undershirt. "Stop this...this is...this is insane..."

"You're right," he agreed. "It is. But really, you ought to have learned by now. Just because something doesn't make sense..." And at this point he undid the button at the very top of the collar, releasing it and exposing the small zipper beneath. "Doesn't mean I won't do it."

Luciano hummed an idle, obnoxious tune as he brought the zipper down, slowly exposing the bare chest beneath. He frowned when the zipper got caught halfway along; he tugged and fiddled with it (gradually becoming aware of the slowly-building irritation) but the object merely chewed on the ensnared fabric even more, refusing to yield.

"How troublesome," he muttered to himself. Even in things as trivial and meaningless as this, that damn Eleven still managed to mess with his plans.

(But this was a trifle, he reminded himself, and would no way change the outcome of what was about to take place.)

The standard method of wearing the official uniform of the Knights of the Rounds was to have the cotton undershirt tucked neatly into the white pants that matched the jacket. Of course this was merely a suggestion; Gino sometimes ignored it completely, and Anya sported a bastardized version of the uniform itself, but it was unsurprising to see that Suzaku stuck to the traditional practice. Snorting at the thought of the boy ever straying from protocol, he shifted his attention towards the belt buckle and proceeded to remove it without a moment's hesitation.

He heard Suzaku weakly voicing his protest as he pulled the belt easily through the loops and tossed it in the vague, general direction he had done earlier with the jacket and gloves. But he paid no heed to such a minor thing (although a part of him did relish how simply powerless the other Knight was before him) and he pulled the edge of the black fabric free. He found the opposite end of the stubborn zipper within seconds, and he used his other hand to reach into his own jacket and draw one of his familiar daggers.

It was only now that he finally noticed the muffled, distinctly female voice that otherwise shattered the relative silence. He'd initially thought of carrying this out in Suzaku's room – he still had the card key, after all – but then realized it would be infinitely more amusing to do this in front of a spectator; if nothing else, it would serve to multiply the boy's humiliation tenfold, and he savored the thought of that. So now as he turned to acknowledge Kallen Kouzuki, he was piqued by the fury positively radiating from her gaze, and the frantic clamor muted by cloth.

And he didn't understand this; after all, didn't she hate Suzaku as well? Shouldn't she be grateful that he was doing this to her captor? Perhaps she just didn't want to bear witness to what was about to happen. He chuckled; too bad for her, then.

"Enjoy the show, dear Eleven," he called out. He decided, once again, that he found the woman fascinating (albeit not as much as Suzaku) and would make her his new target after this was through. "If I still feel like playing after this...you're next!"

Luciano smirked at how her bright blue eyes widened at his declaration, and how the wordless shrieks (curses, he was sure) died into stunned silence.

Yes, today was going to be a good day.

"No..." The renewed squirming beneath informed him that Suzaku had regained some of his strength. "Leave her out of this...don't – !"

Luciano sighed loudly, dramatically, as he grabbed the boy by the hair and pulled. "Pavlovian dog," he repeated simply, reversing his hold into a violent shove, and Suzaku let out a broken cry as the back of his head collided with concrete, with a sickening sound.

Suzaku was groaning in pain (and it was such a sweet sound) when he brought the blade of the dagger underneath the fabric and began to cut. The material yielded immediately, and he was soon slicing a smooth line parallel to the zipper, gradually exposing more of the boy's torso.

"What's wrong, Lord Kururugi?" he taunted, taking his time as he cut slowly, inch by inch. "No more struggling? Hmmm?" He angled the dagger a bit downward, so that the sharp tip just barely raked against his victim's abdomen. "Where's all that fighting spirit?"

He eventually reached the midway point, where the zipper had gotten caught, and an oblique slice there effectively cleaved the front of the ruined shirt in two. He began to part the two halves, still expertly using the dagger, when Suzaku reached up a hand to grip his wrist, a feeble attempt to stop him.

...Although he didn't quite make it; perhaps given his foggy state it was understandable that he missed his target and ended up clasping the sharp blade of the dagger instead, unable to suppress a hiss between gritted teeth.

Luciano laughed darkly as thin trickles of blood began snaking down the boy's forearm. "How pathetic," he sneered. The boy was losing it, he mused, and at this point it would probably only take a little more before he gave in completely...after which the Knight of Ten would quite gleefully push him over the edge and break him to pieces.

But as he moved to pry the hand off Suzaku only clenched harder, turning the small trickles into rivulets and filling the air with a faint coppery scent.

He didn't realize what was happening until he saw those clouded green eyes suddenly sharpen and clear.

When it finally dawned on him (that the boy hadn't missed after all) he only had a split second to panic before he felt the soles of leather boots braced against his stomach.

And then, just like that, he was flying.

Suzaku staggered to his feet, dimly hearing the sound of Luciano crashing into a wall for the second time that day. His gambit had worked, surprisingly, but even so he wasn't sure how much time it had bought him. This was why he wasted no time collecting his fractured bearings and immediately trying to place the exit.

Because while he had yet to fully wrap his head around what exactly was going on - surely this was just a sick joke, surely this wasn't what he thought it was, surely even Luciano wouldn't go this far - all rational thoughts were overpowered by something far more primitive. The icy fear in his veins and the dread in his stomach, and the realization that this was not worth the risk all fueled the urge to get the hell out of here.

He spotted the door within a second. The stinging in his palm was almost unbearable, but it was more than worth it for these few moments – minutes, if he was lucky – of lucidness. If he could just reach the main floor before collapsing, he would be fine. This he assured himself as he stumbled for the door; his legs were not working quite properly, to his dismay.

But he could still beat this. He could still escape.

And maybe he would have made it, really...had his clouded mind not picked that inopportune moment to register a familiar blur of white and black and pink in the very corner of his eye.

Kallen.

He swore, freezing in his tracks – and all the while every muscle in his body protested that this was a very bad thing to do, that he needed to move if he wanted any chance whatsoever at getting himself out of this.

But what had Luciano said – that she was 'next'?

He knew exactly what that meant even if he truly didn't want to, and this was why he turned around and, fully aware of the danger in doing so, retreated back into the heart of the room.

There was fury and frustration in her stare as he crouched down beside her and began working at the bindings around her arms. She unleashed a wordless tirade behind her gag (he could have sworn he heard something that should have been "Idiot" and something else that seemed like "Get away.") And they both knew she was right, on both counts, but no matter how much he needed to flee this place he could not leave Kallen here, bound and alone at the mercy of this madman.

Suzaku gritted his teeth in frustration as his vision blurred, and his fingers fumbled clumsily with the straps and buckles that all of a sudden seemed too intricate and unsurmountable. The drug was winning again, he realized; he knew it would sooner or later but he didn't think it would be this soon. He shook his head and tried to blink away the spots that were dancing in front of him, mocking his efforts. He couldn't give in to it now; he wasn't even remotely out of the room yet, and he still had to –

He fumbled madly around with his good hand, panic building with every tense second that ticked by. Finally his fingers closed over something familiar – his white uniform jacket in a rumpled mess on the floor. Barely even thinking straight he groped the material until he found the ornate blue pin he always wore there, the symbol of his loyalty to Euphemia. He ripped it off with a rough jerk and, in one fluid motion stunted only by a moment's hesitation, buried the pointed end into his left forearm.

The cry that flew out of his lips was more of shock than actual pain. Blood flowed the moment he withdrew the pin, staining his pants with spots of crimson. Kallen herself even paused to fix him with a strange look, disturbed at what he'd just done. But it delivered on its intended effect almost immediately – his vision cleared, the shifting surroundings suddenly snapped into focus, and he was able to recover some semblance of alertness once more.

The bindings yielded more easily now, and he made quick work of the ones around her elbows before moving towards her wrists. "I'm sorry about all this," he said, and he really was. "I'll take full responsibility if anyone questions your release. The guard – "

The rest of the sentence got caught in his throat when Kallen violently shoved him away the moment she pulled her arms free; with her other hand she ripped off the gag and shrieked (with a raw urgency that made his skin crawl): "Suzaku, run!!"

Through sheer instinct he took her words to heart immediately, breaking the fall with his hand and using it as leverage to sprint.

But he didn't quite make it.

He never even heard Luciano get up, although he had been waiting for it and could have probably done something about it. But the other Knight hadn't made a sound – no footsteps, no taunts or insults, not even the slightest rustle of cloth. And because of this the only way Suzaku ever found out he had recovered was by having him suddenly here.

That, and the way he was currently being choked by his own belt from behind.

"You test my patience, Lord Kururugi." The words were seethed in a dangerous hiss, and carried only a hint of the perverse amusement the owner's voice usually possessed in abundance. "Though I do enjoy seeing your pathetic attempts at escaping this, at some point it just begins to get annoying."

The need to breathe fired off alarms in every corner of his brain. He tried to dig his fingers between the leather and his flesh (dropping, forgetting Euphie's pin in a heartbeat) but it was a fruitless endeavor, especially when the loop tightened and the other Knight lifted him off the ground that way, as though trying to hang him.

"The problem with you," Luciano continued, speaking directly into his ear, "is that you never know when to give up." At least, that was what he thought he said; Kallen was also screaming something unintelligible, and all those sounds merged together in a din that seemed to echo in the back of his head. "So really, in a way we could say you bring these things on yourself. Are you really that eager to die?"

His lungs burned. The coil around his neck was so tight he couldn't even force out a scream. And at that moment – with his hands clawing at the belt and his legs desperately jerking in mid-air – he wondered why, at this time when he needed it the most, his accursed Geass refused to make its presence known.

Suzaku would have laughed bitterly at the irony, had he not felt his mental faculties beginning to shut down, one by one. And that was when he finally realized he wasn't going to get out of this. (Maybe he never had a chance to begin with.)

Luciano waited patiently.

He waited until the strain in his arms could no longer be ignored. He waited until Kallen stopped screaming, obscenities and harsh insults that he pointedly screened out and could very well have fallen on deaf ears. He waited until the thrashing of his victim's limbs eventually degenerated into weak, erratic jerks.

And when all of these happened, he waited a little more (just for the hell of it, and because this was funny), before abruptly releasing the belt. "Just kidding!!"

Suzaku crumpled to the floor with a frenetic gasp that soon had him in the throes of a violent coughing fit. He laughed at the sight, crouching down and lifting the boy's head by his hair, to face him. "Really, Lord Kururugi. I already told you I wouldn't kill you, didn't I? Because that's not what this is about."

There was no reply; he merely stared at him through half-lidded eyes, gasping for air and wearing a gaze that seemed not-quite-there.

"That's fine," he quipped. "You don't have to talk. But you see, if you hadn't bothered resisting so much..." (and the dull, renewed ache in his ribs from the boy's kick served as a painful reminder) "...we might have been finishing up by now. Do you understand? It's because of your own foolishness that things become so much worse for you than they should have been."

Luciano picked up the belt with one hand and used the other to close firmly over the wound in the boy's arm. He chuckled at the cry of pain he was rewarded with, and responded by squeezing even harder. "This is your fault too," he pointed out cheerfully, and then proceeded to drag his victim towards the center of the room that way, away from Kallen and away from any hope of help whatsoever.

(Because while her legs were still bound and it was doubtful she could overpower him at this point, he didn't want to take any chances. He was so close to completing his self-imposed mission and he didn't want any more surprises or obstacles suddenly getting in his way.)

He shoved the boy roughly to the ground and knelt over him, pulling both of his arms behind his back. By now Suzaku was like a rag-doll, and he flashed an unseen smirk as he used the belt to bind his forearms that way, wrist to elbow, at an awkward angle and far more tightly thannecessary.

When he finished he took a moment to appraise his victim (panting faintly, eyes glassy and fighting to stay open) and sneered. "Well then; shall we begin?"

There was barely any resistance even when he reached underneath and undid the button at the top of Suzaku's pants, then made quick work of his fly. He felt as though the sight of his enemy like this should have sent a thrill through his system, but it was arrested when Kallen's voice shattered through his musings.

"Let him go! You monster!!"

Luciano sighed irritably. He had really thought the Ace of the Black Knights would be more supportive than this; the boy he was about to violate was her enemy after all, her captor and rumored arch-rival on the battlefield. He simply couldn't comprehend why she couldn't see this as a good thing, but either way the woman was becoming a bit of a nuisance now, and so he withdrew a dagger and skillfully hurled it in her direction.

There was a shriek and the sound of metal striking the wall; of course he hadn't meant to hit her, but he had aimed it precisely so that it missed her face by a trifle, shearing off a few inches from a lock of pink hair. And... "The next one may or may not miss, dear Eleven," he called out nonchalantly. "You either watch or you don't, but I have to request that you behave. Do you think you could do that for me, hmmm?"

He locked his gaze onto those fierce blue irises for a moment, and when she glared back it was a look he was accustomed to – he had seen it before, from the other Knights of the Rounds, that disapproving expression that always informed him how appalled they were at what he had just done (opened fire on soldiers who surrendered, impaled children with the Percival's drill-arm, used allies as human shields...) or was about to do. And since he was used to this, and he was no stranger to being completely misunderstood by all those around him, he merely returned her glare with a cheeky smile that did not let up even when she finally squeezed her eyes shut and turned her face pointedly away.

"Good," he remarked. (Because even if she couldn't see what was about to happen, he was perfectly sure she would be hearing it very soon anyway.)

Without further ado he turned his attention back to the other Knight, yanking down both his pants and his underwear in one swift tug. There was no hesitation in his movements, not even a hint of self-doubt as he spread the boy's thighs apart, just enough so he could have access to the entrance there.

"N-no..." Suzaku's struggles were feeble, almost laughable. "Wait – "

"Nope," Luciano informed him gleefully, withdrawing another dagger from the hidden arsenal beneath his coat. "I will not wait."

The boy jerked his hips as the cold tip of the hilt began probing his hole. He tried again, and again, only to be met with similar results.

"Stop moving," he said loudly, "unless you want me to be careless." His signature daggers, after all, were personalized in macabre design that matched their owner's ruthless, eccentric nature, so that even the hilts ended in a sharp, albeit short point. He was adept enough at wielding them to neutralize this problem, but if the other Knight kept fidgeting like this...well, he just didn't want the boy hemorrhaging in front of him (at least, not before he'd had his fun). "If you keep this up, I may as well use the business end."

Suzaku still squirmed stubbornly, as though he hadn't even heard him. And so he brought the dagger up and pressed the tip of the lethal blade into the flesh above his tailbone.

"You think I won't do it?" he hissed. "Do you want to try me?"

There was a slight whimper as he pressed down harder, barely cutting into skin. And then Suzaku went very, very still.

"Thank you for your cooperation," he mocked, unable to suppress a grisly smile.

He didn't even consider bothering with any sort of preparation; he merely gripped the crossguard with one hand, the blade flat against his palm and wrist, and shoved the hilt all the way in with a single stroke.

"Nnnnnghh!" Green eyes went impossibly wide, and fingers clenched tightly beneath his bindings. Luciano bent down to peer at him, and continued to wear that smile even as he pulled the dagger out halfway only to shove it right back in again.

"How's that? Does it hurt?" he asked in an innocent voice, settling into a vigorous pace – in, out, in, out. By now Suzaku was biting down hard on his lower lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction. "How vapid," he concluded then, his smile giving way to an unpleasant frown. But then he got an idea – changing the angle ever so slightly, he tilted the dagger so that the pointed edge of the hilt just barely scraped against the walls of the boy's passage.

This time, his efforts were repaid with a scream.

Luciano laughed heartily; the sound was just so sweet to his ears and it sent a strange shiver down his spine, a sensation he could not quite place. "That's more like it," he said, hiding his fleeting uncertainty behind a sinister grin and increasing the pace of his hand.

Suzaku's face was contorted in agony, humiliation, and God knew what else was was there but it pleased him immensely. "St–...aaghh...! Stop...stop – !"

"No," he replied with a shrug. "I wouldn't even dream of stopping now." True to his word, he continued thrusting the hilt in and out of his system even as he leaned in dangerously close; he could observe the trembling of bleeding lips, the beads of sweat that had gathered on his temples, the desperation in his eyes and all the little things that excited him in more ways than he would have thought possible. "And even if I did, it wouldn't make a difference. Do you know why, Lord Kururugi?"

"P...lease..." The boy sounded as though he were being strangled all over again. "I – "

"Because none of us will forget this," he continued gaily. "Not me, not Kallen Kouzuki, and most certainly not you." He laughed as a clever twist of his hand elicited a splintered cry. "And no matter how much higher you climb, your rank and all the medals in the world, and anything you achieve from this day on won't change the fact that this happened, and it will be with you till the day you die."

This would be his 'gift', then, to Suzaku Kururugi – the consummate traitor, the monkey who didn't know his place, the classless Number who had dared to buy himself a spot on the Knights of the Rounds by offering the head of his own motherland's hero on a silver platter. He had stripped him of his dignity – although he had not given it up without a fight, he recalled bemusedly – and left in its place a memory of today, of this, and they both knew it would haunt him forever.

And so he was about to withdraw the dagger and call his mission a success – really, there wasn't anything left to do anymore – but there was something that gave him pause. Something rooted him to the spot, something that kept his eyes fixated as the hilt of the dagger disappeared and reappeared continuously. And it surprised him that this, coupled with the sight of Suzaku shivering and flushed beneath him, all brought about a certain sensation he identified only a bit too late.

It was certainly not an unfamiliar feeling – the excess heat, the sudden tightness in his pants was something he already knew well. But it surprised him a little that something like this would come up now, of all times...

And yet not for a single moment did he feel ashamed, or disturbed by his reaction. His inner sense of logic told him that when faced with a situation like this it was simple, really, what had to be done. And so he did it – tossing the dagger aside after removing it completely, he loosened the buckle on his belt just enough to open the front of his own pants.

"You know, for what it's worth," he drawled, letting his erection spring free and taking a moment to chuckle at just how hard he had been without realizing it. "I didn't really plan on this. But...well, apparently it needs to be done. I'm sure you'll understand."

Suzaku didn't seem to even hear him, merely lying there with sweat-drenched bangs hiding his eyes, a trickle of blood leaking from where he had bitten his lip too hard. But he responded with a muffled groan when Luciano sneaked a hand under his face and clamped it firmly over his mouth.

"Now I can't be entirely sure," he said as he used his other hand to spread the spread nether cheeks apart, so he could –

"But I think this might hurt."

– shove his member mercilessly through the puckered entrance there.

Luciano buried himself to the hilt in a heartbeat, and the guttural scream that ensued hummed against his palm and drowned out the hiss he could not quite suppress. Suzaku was tight, and his muffled cries sounded like those of an animal being slaughtered, yet all this simply increased his pleasure as he began thrusting his way in and out of the boy, his supposed colleague, his most hated enemy.

(And it didn't bother him that this all started with mere irritation. Then that initial irritation had apparently morphed into obsession, which in turn led to this. All that mattered was the fact that he couldn't just ignore this, and as he watched himself slip in and out of raw, quivering flesh he realized he had stopped caring about whether or not this made any sense, long ago.)

He continued his program of deliberate, almost methodical thrusting, savoring this twisted pleasure for what it was worth. The rough, mangled screams eventually quieted down to softer whimpers, and that was when he noticed the strange wetness pooling above the side of his hand.

"Are you – Lord Kururugi, are you crying?" he taunted incredulously, secretly thrilled at the mere thought of it. He removed his hand and pulled out just long enough to turn him over. His eyes were wet and they caught the feeble light with a pitiful shine. The air smelled strongly of blood. "You are." And he laughed. "The Knight of Seven, really. You should see yourself right now."

"I..." To his credit, Suzaku was still able to meet his gaze, although at this point he looked so far gone that if Luciano Bradley were any other person he would have wondered, even briefly, if he'd crossed a line somewhere. "Hurts...please...n-no more..."

He could have stopped at that point; he had completed his mission minutes ago. And yet there was something about Suzaku, reduced to an incoherent, begging mess that made him crave more (and so he violently stripped the pants down, as far as the boots would allow, hooked the boy's shins over his shoulders and penetrated him once more, without warning).

And it was so much more satisfying this way, seeing how Suzaku squeezed his eyes shut and cried out in pain. The ruined black undershirt was slipping off his shoulders, pooling around his arms and exposing his chest, heaving and damp with sweat. His every thrust was rewarded with a grunt, a whimper, a sob. By now it seemed as though the boy had resigned himself to this completely, and while he relished this victory, a small part of him still wasn't quite satisfied.

Trailing his eyes down slowly over his victim's prostrate, shivering form, he finally caught sight of his own member, slack between his thighs. He paused, letting his body go still. And then he grinned wickedly, looking straight into the boy's eyes, before closing a hand over the shaft, coaxing it to –

"No...no, don't – !!" Suzaku bucked his hips, his own body betraying him by the panicked, horrified expression he now wore. "Nnn – !"

"As I thought," he chuckled darkly, stroking and fondling the organ to a reluctant hardness. "This terrifies you, doesn't it – losing control in every way imagineable. After all, it's one thing to have this done to you by force, but if you enjoy it – "

"Wait, stop! Please!" The protest was more frantic now, but it quickly died into something far more shameful as he pressed his thumb against the tip, sneering at the moisture that began to leak out.

"You might not want it," he said in a heartless whisper. "But it's going to happen anyway."

"No..." Suzaku mumbled weakly, an act of defiance if it weren't so pathetically feeble and half-hearted.

"Then prove me wrong," he grinned, resuming his thrusting and quickening the pace of his strokes at once.

His victim's eyes slid shut and he threw his head back, damp curls scraping against concrete as he moaned. There was a frantic twist of his shoulders, as though he were testing his bonds, but then he was back to panting and gasping and begging, stuttered half-formed pleas to stop this, to spare him even this last shred of his virtue. And he wondered why the boy even bothered, when they both knew he wasn't going to listen, he wasn't going to grant any favors, and he certainly wasn't going to stop.

He had to hand it to him: despite the drug, the injuries, and everything he had gone through these past few minutes, Suzaku still fought valiantly for some semblance of control over his body. He would bite down hard over his lip and shake his head furiously, stilling his body even as Luciano continued to pound into him. But then the Knight of Ten would only need to swirl his thumb over the head once more, or twist his grip ever so slightly, and he would lose the battle with a buck of his hips, with a strangled moan.

"You're merely prolonging the inevitable." The slight hoarseness in his voice surprised him; at this point he realized he was quite close as well, and so chose to cover it up with a laugh. "Give it up."

"I...I – "

"You've already lost. Everything," he added in afterthought. He pumped the frantically leaking organ even harder, hard enough until his arm began to ache, as he dug the fingers of his other hand into the bare flesh of a thigh. "I told you, Lord Kururugi: I win." And he leaned in closer, as close as he dared. "I always do."

It was only a few more strokes before Suzaku finally broke, coming with a staggered gasp and a violent shudder that wracked his entire frame. The muscles at his entrance clamped down in the process, and Luciano buried his own release deep within the recesses of his victim's body, punctuating his climax with a deranged laugh that filled the room several times over.

He hadn't expected victory to be this sweet, but he welcomed it completely. He basked in it, even as he withdrew himself from the opening with a soft pop and ducked away from the cage of the boy's legs. He didn't mind the strings of white fluid barely visible on the front of his jacket, or the mess of blood on his member as he tucked it into his pants and fixed himself.

All those were trivial, because this victory had required enormous amounts of effort and patience, the product of months' worth of trial and error. And yet, it was so worth it.

The Vampire of Britannia spared one last glance at his victim. Suzaku had finally given in to the drug, and his limp and battered frame was a far cry from the strong, steadfast Knight of Seven. No, this look suited him far more, he decided. He gazed at the boy's face – eyes closed, lips parted slightly, what would have been a peaceful countenance marred by tracks of tears and smears of blood – and noticed just now how damn young he was; no matter what he did, Suzaku Kururugi was still little more than a child.

"I told you so," was all he said to the other Knight's unconscious form.

Luciano Bradley did not look back. He did not acknowledge the witness in the corner of the room, did not bother to pick up the scattered daggers that remained, did not even consider calling for a medic. He merely flashed a triumphant grin that went unseen, and calmly left the room.

They used to say there was a special circle in the innermost depths of Hell, reserved for the traitors. He couldn't remember why, but treachery was considered the gravest of all sins, and here the worst punishments conceivable were dealt without mercy.

Consciousness wavering, he wondered if this was it. But perhaps that was just wishful thinking on his part.

It always was.

Kallen Kouzuki was a smart girl. Her academic records were flawless. She could hold her own in close combat, even against trained soldiers. To say she could pilot a Knightmare was an understatement – she had been (still was) the Ace of the Black Knights, a notorious scourge for the Britannian military who would still be wreaking havoc to this day had she not committed the one blunder that landed her here in the first place.

Suffice to say she had many talents: dealing with this was not one of them.

Kallen sighed as she placed one end of the gag between her teeth and pulled, tearing the cloth into two. She had completely lost track of how much time it had been since the other Knight left, but between then and now she had dragged herself to the center of the room using her arms, all the while cursing the bindings that she couldn't reach and rendered her legs useless. Once she got here, the first thing she did was shut her eyes and pull his pants back up to his waist, trying to suppress a flush and failing miserably.

(He had seen her naked back in Kaminejima, she recalled. She didn't exactly demand an eye for an eye, but it wasn't as though she had a choice in the matter.)

She surveyed the damage quietly as she untied his arms. Suzaku was, quite literally, a mess. And while a nagging voice in her head told her she wasn't obliged to do anything – he was the enemy, the pilot of that damned white Knightmare which derailed so many of Zero's carefully-laid plans – she knew she would be damned if she didn't do something.

She had soaked the cloth in hot water, from the cup that should have held her tea. So she supposed it was only natural for it to sting as she wrapped a strip around the bleeding gash in his hand; his eyelids tensed, before they fluttered open and he came to with a groan. "Kallen?"

His voice was a pitiful remnant of what she remembered it to be, but she kept her eyes hard as she continued bandaging his hand. "Don't mistake this for anything else," she began harshly, in Japanese. "We're still enemies. I still hate you for everything you've done. This doesn't change that."

The air was deathly quiet for too long, far too long, as he watched her clumsy efforts without a word.

"Do you even understand me?" she barked, an unpleasant sound even to her own ears. After all, this was the traitor to Japan, the man who had given up his country for –

"Of course I do," came the quiet reply, halting her mental tirade. She had never heard him speak their native tongue before, so hearing those soft words tumble from his lips came as a bit of a shock.

Shaking her head, she turned her attention once more toward her self-imposed task. The cloth was only so long, and barely went thrice over his hand before she had to tie the ends together. She considered asking him if it was good enough – too tight? too loose? - but she somehow sensed he wouldn't notice either way.

"You could have saved yourself, you know," she muttered to the other strip she now wrapped around the puncture wound in his arm. "If you hadn't come back for me."

"I know." His eyes were glassy and fixed onto her hands.

"Then why – ?!" Kallen had to bite her lip to quell the rest of her frustration, inadvertently clutching his arm more firmly than she should. If he was bothered by her sudden outburst, he didn't show it; tired green eyes merely rested on her face, carrying the barest hint of questioning, as though asking her to continue. She decided she didn't want to. "You're going to report this," she said stiffly instead. "Aren't you?"

"And broadcast it...to the entire world?" he said numbly. "Whatever for?"

He laughed then, but it was an eerie, strange kind of laugh: not only did it fail to reach his eyes, it didn't even perturb the corners of his lips. It sounded dead. And when she leaned a bit closer she realized he was not looking at her at all, but seemed to be seeing through her.

Her blood froze when he spoke once more. "Kallen," he started, and his voice was toneless, soft but devoid of any feeling whatsoever. "You are...the last person...I will ever show any weakness to."

She wasn't sure what it was about the cold declaration that unnerved her, but it did. And she realized something inside Suzaku had shattered today, from staring at those deadened pools of green that no longer held any promise of life, of warmth. This alarmed her, because even if he was the enemy, even if he stood for everything she fought against, Suzaku had treated her with kindness far more than any prisoner of war deserved. Even as Knight of Seven he occasionally flashed glimpses of the soft-spoken, endearing schoolboy she had met at Ashford. And she sensed that after such a terrible ordeal, this facet of Suzaku would be the first to give.

Kallen wondered then, desperately, if she could still save him. Or if he was so badly scarred and broken by now, that she was too late.

She sucked in her breath and decided to gamble.

"Suzaku," she said firmly, cupping his cheek (he was so cold) and forcing him to face her. "Listen to me. I don't like you. You get in Zero's way every single time, and I still think you're wrong. About everything. But..." And she softened her tone then, so that her next words would not sound so severe: "You don't deserve what happened to you here, today. No-one does. Do you understand?"

He shifted a little in her grasp, averting his eyes. "I - "

"No. Shut up." She didn't even know what he was going to say, but she doubted she was going to like it. So instead, she made him a promise: "When I get out of here – and believe me, I will – I am going to find that man. I'm going to kill him." She said it with such surety that he glanced back up, meeting her eyes (and she noted, with relief, that his were not quite so dead anymore – perhaps she hadn't been too late after all.) "And then I'm going to kill you, so wait for that day," she finished brusquely, half in-jest.

The barest hint of a smile ghosted over his features, tugging at his bloodstained lips as he spoke. "I look forward to that, then."

Kallen ducked her head to hide a grin behind her hair, and she finally finished bandaging his arm in silence.

"Can you stand?" she asked once she was done.

"Not for awhile," came the reply. "Sorry."

"Right, the drug...of course," she said, belated realization hitting her when she noticed his eyes. "Well...sleep it off, I guess. ...But hurry up!" She folded her arms across her chest, turning away as though this curtness could make up for her earlier hesitation. "I don't want you here all day."

He nodded, still wearing that half-smile as his eyelids cast meekly down. "Kallen...thank you."

She did not say he was welcome to it. Perhaps deep down, they both wondered why she had chosen to do this. After all, she could have killed him here – daggers were scattered all around them, he could not have fought back, nothing would ever have been easier. Doing so might get her executed, but would undoubtedly save so many of her comrade's lives. A queen for a knight, she mused, and a good bargain considering she was hampered and useless behind enemy lines.

And maybe, given what had just happened to Suzaku today, she would be doing him a favor as well.

But...

Kallen watched him then, kept her eyes trained on him until his head lolled slightly back and his breathing settled into a more regular, soothing pattern. And then she retreated back into her corner, struggling all the way, and watched him some more, until the sound of his breathing eventually lulled her as well into an uneasy sleep.

When Kallen awoke that night, Suzaku was gone. The floor was spotless, and only the tray of food remained beside her, still untouched save for the half-empty cup of now-frigid water.

To her surprise, it was Nunnally who came to visit her next.

When Luciano Bradley and Suzaku Kururugi next encountered one another, the tension was thick in the air. "I haven't seen you since the Belarus frontlines," the latter had said immediately, pre-empting any allusions the other Knight had planned to make regarding that day.

(Anya was a witness to this whole exchange, after all.)

And so the Vampire of Britannia simply smiled and insulted Euphemia, which promptly evoked a challenge to a duel that was never quite concluded.

Bismarck's sudden arrival in the Galahad forced an end to their conversation. It was to be their last.

And in the end, Kallen Kouzuki was only able to keep half of the promise she had made that day.

. : fin : .

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Author's Notes:

And...that's a wrap! (has the sudden, inexplicable urge to hide in a corner)

Cake and hugs and gratitude (all of the nice, warm, pleasant things that are the antithesis of this entire chapter) to the reviewers of Chapter 4:

Spunkay Skunk: Alliterations are fun. And yes, the added trauma/humiliation-factor was exactly what Luciano was going for. It just makes it so much more horrible that way, especially since Kallen is his prisoner. And you wanna know something funny/pathetic? I got sick...then I got better for about a week...and then I got sick again (immune-system-fail.) So I'm actually sniffling and living on tea and noodles as I type this. Fun times.

words without: I was pretty obsessed with trying to keep everyone in-character (well...Luciano wasn't a problem, but everyone else was pretty well-developed in the series, especially Suzaku) so I'm really glad it paid off. I tried to write the whole thing in such a way that it could still fit in the timeline if you squint (more on this later) but seeing this as an AU / a parallel thing is perfectly fine as well.

Sam-Sam-Samedi: The thing is, I felt a little guilty for giving Gino a grand total of one sentence last chapter (ah, hell, here it is: "Later that night, he learned that Gino had taken Suzaku out for sushi.") that I briefly considered expanding their whole sushi-quasi-date into a one-shot. I'm still deliberating on this right now. Anyway...dead-Arthur would not have sat well with canon, and if he did somehow end up killing the kittie I'd personally make sure he'd get a violent, painful death (err...not that he didn't get one at Kallen's hands anyway, but that's beside the point.) I was hedging a bit on the syringe thing to be honest; I needed some way for him to neutralize the hax!zaku, and my initial plan was to have him coat the dagger blades with the drug, and for Suzaku to take a hit trying to protect Kallen. That...proved to be way too much trouble to write, so I went with the stick-a-needle-in-the-spinkick route. Lastly, I, um...hope the rape scene wasn't too bad? (smiles sweetly)

MithLuin: Arthur is too cute and awesome to die. It's interesting because at some point in the series, Luciano actually hints on doing something to Kallen (he says something about life being the most important thing for a hostage, so that means he can do pretty much anything else to her) but is derailed by Gino (yay Gino!) And yes, Kallen eventually does end up smoking him with the improved Guren (and she would have gotten Suzaku as well, but Ikiro! kicked in at the very last second, and FLEIJA happened and the rest is history.)

Drakyndra: I actually never thought of this angle, and I think it's a very interesting perspective. Enlisting under the flag of his country's conquerors must have been the equivalent of taking his dignity and shredding it to bits, in retrospect, being a former Japanese 'prince' and all. Although it's never made quite clear why he joined in the first place; he couldn't possibly have dreamed of scoring with Lloyd and the Lancelot back then, and "atone" is kind of his buzz-word for almost everything he does (but I digress, haha.) The way I saw it, to have something as basic as 'dignity' to be his last precious thing highlighted the sad fact that he really had nothing else left to show for himself. But I like your theory as well! (And there was really nothing else to the code, by the way – Suzaku's birthdate really is July 10, 2000 a.t.b.)

caraniente: To be completely honest, a (tiny) part of me feels vaguely wrong for having written a rape-fic, so I think we're fine. I love Suzaku as well (which probably prompts one to ask, why did I do this to him?) and I don't quite understand why a lot of the Code Geass fanbase seems to hate him. I mean, sure he always gets in Lelouch's/Zero's way, but...that's kind of his job. Anyway I should end this before it turns into a potential rant; Gino and Anya are just too cute that way; I would give anything to read a fic composed of Gino-Anya-Suzaku drabbles.

Some little things about this chapter (and the whole story in general):

- When Luciano goes on about 'Pavlovian dogs,' he's referring to classical conditioning. He's claiming that by that time, some subconscious part of Suzaku's brain should have associated 'struggling' with 'imminent pain / head-floor.' Psychology FTW.

- The whole paragraph about the 'traitors' circle of Hell' was an allusion to Dante's Inferno.

- The last three segments (all in italics) are canon. The first takes place in R2-12, the second in R2-16, and the final sentence, of course, refers to when Kallen kills Luciano in R2-18.

- With that being said, this entire fic could actually be squeezed (albeit tightly) into canon, if you really wanted to. But Kallen gets handed over to Britannian custody in R2-11, which kind of leaves less than an episode for all the present-tense mayhem to have occured. That, and it would imply that Suzaku, Gino, and Anya found some time in all this insanity to attend Milly's graduation event. To make things worse, R2-13 has Suzaku meeting up with Shirley and Lelouch...without gloves. So...yea, in retrospect, it's a very, very tight squeeze, and a dubious one, but on the other hand it's not completely far-fetched either.

I just want to thank everyone again for reading this fic and giving it a chance. This whole thing was a great learning experience for me, as I ventured into quite a number of things I'd never tried before. Most of the time it was fun (other times not so much) but all-in-all it was a blast. I hope you guys enjoyed reading it (dark and twisty as it is) as much as I enjoyed writing it.

So what's next? Well, I may or may not do a Christmas fic, and I may or may not do that Gino/Suzaku/sushi one-shot I mentioned earlier. Both ideas are up in the air. But come January I will be starting on a multi-chaptered AU LuluSuza someone requested on the kinkmeme. So if that's your thing, you're more than welcome to check it out then (watch this space, etc.)

Again, thanks for reading. And as always, reviews would be lovely! Ghost-readers: c'mon guys, it's the last chapter. At least let me know how it went =).