AN/
FIRST OF ALL THANK YOU SO MUCH BabyGhost123 and Phantom Trainer for pointing out that my earlier version of this chapter wasn't in a readable form so I could fix it. Lots of love to you two 3
Yo~ I'm back with a new chapter again. I'm so sorry for taking so long. I'll explain why I'm so late in the end of the chapter. Don't wanna spoil it here. Anyways, I got worried messages and reviews about if I was gonna drop this story and never finish it. No, that's not the case. Ever. I promise you. I just struggled with this chapter so much that I even had to take a pause of months to be able to write again.
I actually intended to add these first few paragraphs to the last chapter, but I wasn't sure how I was gonna write this chapter back then so I left them out. This would have been a much more interesting ending (cliffhanger) to the chapter in my opinion haha. But anyways, here it is. Enjoy!
Oh, and I promise to upload the remaining chapters a lot faster. Seriously. A LOT.
WARNING: This chapters contains brutal torturing, rape and other nauseous stuff that aren't for the weak minded. Proceed at your own risk. Very dark shit.
/
/
/
The dim street lamps barely lit the street, though they still managed to show the way to Law who was desperately trying to flick a lighter at his cigarette with trembling hands.
"I won't let go of you Law. Ever."
Doflamingo's voice echoed through his head, repeating those words again and again as if he had been haunted by them. The goose bumps they had left on his skin had never disappeared and his lower lip, which still smarted slightly, wouldn't let him forget the man and their intimate contact which had suddenly been interrupted roughly an hour ago. The very, Very vivid feeling of Doflamingo's lips still lingered on his itchy skin.
So the cold wasn't the only thing that made his hands shake and caused difficulties with lighting a cigarette.
His thoughts were all over his head, as if his mind's mirror had been shattered into a million pieces and he had to walk distances to find and pick them all up one at a time. Wanting Doflamingo, wanting to get away from him. Desiring Doflamingo, wanting not to desire him. Wanting to trust the man blindly with all of himself, and at the same time, being afraid of trusting the man with anything sensitive at all. The man had been his protector, his savior, all his life, yet he'd also been the one to hurt him the most. Right now, the inside of his head was probably a worse mess than the man had said Law had made his.
But then again, maybe he didn't have to go through all this conflicting deliberation. I mean, who was he fooling here? He'd known all his life what kind of a man Doflamingo was. He'd known what mess he was tangling himself in by getting involved with the man. He hadn't been able to prepare himself for all of it, hell no-one would have been, but he had still been aware of all the possible complications waiting for him. So why was he still like this, considering if he should or should not be around the man? Even before asking himself that question, Law had already figured out the answer. He was afraid.
Not even afraid of Doflamingo, but afraid of himself. He'd always been rational, making only wise choices and playing it safe. He'd never thrown himself out there, not if he hadn't been sure about the consequences already in beforehand. And there he was, still after months, making irrational decisions based on his desires and needs instead of sensible thoughts, and doubting them. He was doubting himself, the changes he'd noticed in himself, afraid of them. Not afraid of the man called Donquixote Doflamingo, but the one called Trafalgar Law. And he hated it.
Doflamingo, no matter how sick and twisted, actually showed and spoke what he thought and wanted when Law just kept on questioning the logic and rationality of it all. Hell, there wasn't even supposed to be logic or rationality in the feelings of two people, even he knew that much, and yet he was trying to find them.
He snickered at himself mockingly. No wonder Doflamingo was so irritated and pissed off at him half of the time. He'd been an idiot, pulling the rope back and forth all this time, even after the man had only started pulling back. Pulling Law to him, pushing aside all his doubts concerning their relationship, and only concentrated on what he wanted. And he wanted Law… He had made it very clear.
`Seriously...´ Law snickered at himself again, let out a heavy, exasperated sigh and stopped walking. He flicked the lighter a few more times, almost violently, and finally managed to blow a puff of white smoke from between his tensed lips. Finally, his tensed muscles relaxed as let out a heavy – though this time somewhat pleasured – sigh. `I'm such a fucking idiot´
Law shook it all off, literally, and decided to go through with the outcome of his thoughts after this was all over and he could go back to Dressrosa and face the man personally. The simple answer had been there all along, right in front of his very own eyes, and now he felt ridiculously stupid for not noticing it. Just a few minutes of desperately trying to light a cigarette had made him find it when he'd been avoiding it for months before. So very dumb of him.
Law raised his heel in order to continue on his way when he suddenly felt like he was being watched.
He swiftly turned his head to check both sides, even looking over his shoulder to make sure no-one was following him. But no. There was no-one but he himself on that street. Well him and a drunken couple with wobbly feet, probably on their way to love-hotel, but they paid no attention to him so they didn't count.
Law shrugged off the ominous feeling and started walking again. How great. This is exactly what I need in my life right now. Developing a fucking delusional disorder.´ He turned around the corner, slowly sucking on his toxic yet precious cancer roll, trying to shake the feeling off. It didn't go away, but Law refused to listen to it. One mentally unstable person was enough for one relationship, and Law surely didn't want to add to it.
He was a block away from Baratie's street when his fears of developing a delusional disorder got proven wrong.
"Trafalgar Law?"
Law, startled by the sudden call of his name, turned on his heels just in time to block a fist that was making it's way straight towards his face. Another hit, directed at his stomach, came - but Law blocked it easily with a swift knee kick, followed right after by another kick that made it past the attacker's defense and let Law create some distance between them.
Law twirled around and jumped backwards, glancing down at his miserable, flat somewhat-resemblance of a cigarette before he threw it away, and then proceeded to inspect his attacker.
It was a bald man with tanned skin and lazy eyes, maybe in his early 30's. His arms were huge and his upper body was as broad as a horizon, if you could describe someone's body like that, and Law could tell that body had taken the man hundreds and hundreds of hours at the gym and liters of illegal substances to build. He looked like a heavy weight wrestler on steroids. Even Arnold Schwarzenegger in his best body-building years was tiny compared to this guy.
Law wasn't worried though. Yeah sure, he was aware of him and his attacker wrestling in two completely different series when it came to strength, but he was more agile and judging by the man's clumsy, straightforward hits, more skilled in martial arts. If he'd just manage to avoid getting caught by those huge bear arms and not let himself get caught up in a wre stling match, it'd be his win. No doubt about it. Even if there were `if´s.
"And who the fuck might you be?" Law's question sounded more like an accusation than casual asking, though he already had a pretty good guess about who this man worked for. So while he waited for the man to word the obvious answer aloud, he took one more step backwards to secure the distance between them two.
The man stared at him blankly, swiped his shirt where Law's kick had landed at as if it had made no other harm than get some dirt on him, and then confirmed Law's guess right. "Crocodile wants to meet you." Well, it wasn't exactly the answer to who the fuck the man was but it had given Law the answer he had wanted. This man worked for his family's enemy.
"He should have made an appointment then. Tonight is kinda booked full." Despite his joking words, Law's voice lacked even the slightest hint of amusement.
The man never replied, as if pretending to not have heard a word of what Law had said.
"Tell your boss that unfortunately I can't make it tonight and that I have zero fucking intentions to make it any other night either, so he can fuck off with this kind of overly kind invitations." Law spoke, again taking a few steps backwards, putting even more distance between the man and himself as he prepared to leave. If he just could take a few more steps without the man following, he could easily escape without having to engage in any more physical contact with the man at all. That was the ideal outcome obviously. Of course he was gonna take a few distraction routes first before going to Baratie, just in case the man or a friend of his decided to follow him.
`A friend… Oh fuck… No wonder he's been standing still so calmly this whole time.´ On that very same second the thought hit him, Law got hit by something else as well. By something hard to the back of his skull. A nanosecond lasting flash of black and white coloured his vision before his legs gave in and his numb body fell forward. He was already unconscious by the time his head made contact with the rock hard face of the street.
/
/
/
Law woke up to an urgent need of having to cough all the air out of his lungs. His head spun around and throbbed like hell and he felt like throwing up with every cough that was forced out of his throat.
Both the back of his head, where he had been hit, and the whole left side of his skull, what he suspected had landed first on the asphalt street, were sore and ached so much that it made his face turn upside down. It had been a while since Vergo had beat him up badly enough to make him feel like this, so it was kind of a nice (in a twisted way) memory brought up.
Judging by his blurry vision and the fact that his head felt oddly light as if he was high, Law was pretty sure that he had at least a concussion. Maybe a hairline fracture at the back of his skull too. No matter what the situation, he couldn't help his inner doctor from butting in.
His inner doctor wasn't given too much time to analyze the severity of his injuries though, as another kick, followed by another vulgar coughing fit of his, came shortly after the first one.
"Fuck.." He bit out a curse and reflexively moved his hands to cover his stomach. Only that he couldn't. When his hands tried to reach his hurting stomach, he heard a cold clank from somewhere above and felt a tug at the sides of his wrists. `Shackles´, he realized.
"He's awake." Law heard a voice say. A voice he remembered belonging to the muscular man who had attacked him before.
Law slowly raised his head, trying to grimace away the loud banging that ran between his ears, and lifted his gaze from the grey cement floor to search for the source of the voice. In the midst of doing so he noticed everything he could see around him was grey and dull. He was somewhere that looked like an old cellar.
Law found his attacker's face a few steps to his right, and a meter or two behind him, Crocodile. Or at least Law guessed it was him. He was a tall man with an indifferent expression on his face and a black cape hanging down from his broad shoulders. His nape-length black hair was slicked back neatly – with wax Law guessed – and he had a stitched scar that ran stretched across his whole face, running over the his nose and cheekbones. Had someone tried to cut the man's face in half or what the fuck? Oh, and a hook. Right at that moment he wasn't sure where he'd heard the rumour from, but it was now proven to be true. The man actually had a hook in place of his left hand, just like the pirate from Peter Pan.
"Doflamingo's tastes have gone for worse." The man, who Law assumed to be Crocodile, spoke as if to himself when he took in the sight of Law's newly raised face. "At least his earlier whores were elegant. This one's just a pale mess of skin and bones. And a young boy to boot." His voice was calm and kind of relaxing, or it would have been relaxing if it hadn't just worsened the banging in Law's head with every syllable spoken.
Law gritted his teeth at the insult but said nothing as he was busy trying to keep his head – and with it; his vision – steady. To be truthful, Law wanted nothing more than to tell the man to fuck off and throw insults back at his face about how he wasn't the most beautiful flower of the field himself either, but he settled for trying to recover the last bits of his vision and consciousness before he got involved in any verbal – or physical – arguments.
Law had to admit he was slightly curious about how Crocodile knew of Doflamingo's "earlier whores" but kept his mouth shut about it too. He knew that in the underworld people could get pretty much any kind of information about anyone if they just had the right sources and the right amounts of money to offer. Crocodile most probably had more than enough of them both if he'd managed to get his hands on any information about Doflamingo. Even any that concerned something as insignificant as his `earlier whores´. A subject that made Law want to grit his teeth but he wisely decided against it to not add to any of his already existing pain.
Law wasn't sure when the man had moved because he hadn't seen it, but there he suddenly was, half a meter away from him and looking down at him like he was filth. A look Law certainly didn't appreciate, but he was more interested in how he hadn't seen the man move. Either Crocodile had moved very fast, like people did in super-hero shows on tv, or then Law's brain wasn't functioning well enough to register something so obvious that took place right in front of his eyes. He suspected it to be the latter. Given the fact that his interests were more caught up on the man's imagined super-hero speed instead of his belittling gaze directed at Law, no doubt it was the latter.
"Law, was it?" The man asked, but obviously didn't expect to hear an answer as he continued without leaving enough room for Law to answer. "I'm sure you've already figured out who I am, so you've probably also figured out that if you want to hang onto your puny, miserable life, you'll cooperate with me and sing everything nicely when I question you. I'm not a patient man, you must have heard that much." The man voiced his threats, picking up Law's jaw with his fingers to force him to look at him in the eye.
Law simply yanked his jaw away from the man's grasp. "Don't touch me, asshole."
He was to regret his choice of words immediately. He heard a loud crack of bones when his head was thrown to his side, and he could have sworn that the punch had dislocated his jaw. Or maybe not. He just guessed by the sound of it, not actually feeling it. His head was already light and in pain even without the hit so he couldn't properly register what pain came from the punch and what had already been there.
"Now that we understand each other, Law," the man once again looked down on him, "tell me where Doflamingo is."
"Shouldn't you be more interested in your wife's whereabouts and how she's doing?" Law couldn't help but flash the man an impish smile.
But much to his surprise, the man's expression didn't even flinch when Robin was mentioned.
"If I was interested in her whereabouts, I'd ask you about it. But I'm asking you about Doflamingo. Tell me where he is." The man said as calmly as ever, and Law couldn't help but wonder what the hell Robin saw in this cold, uncaring fucker. If it had been his wife this was about, Law wouldn't have been interested in anyone else before her. This man truly wasn't fit to be anyone's husband. Most definitely not someone as cool as Robin's.
"How about no." He would never tell this fucker a thing about Doflamingo or Robin or anyone else either. Not like he actually even had any idea about the flamboyant man's whereabouts because he had never been told where the man was headed to. Not like he was gonna tell that to Crocodile.
Something cold and metallic brushed against Law's cheek, then ran down on his skin all the way down from his jawbone to his throat, it's tip tickling his adam's apple.
"You might want to rethink on that answer." The man said, pressing the hook's tip just a tiny bit harder against the lump on the delicate throat.
Law faced him proudly, his gray orbs flicking with an unknown emotion.
"You might want to fuck off."
A thick, pressuring death silence fell upon the room, but didn't linger there for too long. Instead of piercing Law's skin, the hard metal of the hook connected with his face. And if his jaw hadn't been dislocated earlier, it certainly was now. The surprising pain sent him into shock and – not too long after - knocked him unconscious.
/
/
/
Sanji was holding his cell in his hand, trying to dial his best friend for the umpteenth time ever since last night, biting his nails nervously. The green haired man behind him was rubbing his neck soothingly, apparently trying to ease his stress but it was in vain. His brows stayed furrowed and his nails kept on getting shorter and shorter, to the point where his fingertips had already started bleeding.
"Calm down Sanji. Something urgent probably came up and Law just can't answer your calls right now. I'm sure he will call you immediately when he has time to." Zoro whispered to his boyfriend's neck reassuringly, brushing his lips against the soft skin in hopes of disarming his stress. No such luck.
"But it's not like Law to tell me he's coming over and then never appear without even a single message!" The cook snapped, and after realizing his call had once again reached Law's dull voice mail, he hit the big red dot on screen violently and started calling again. "Something must have happened on his way here." He added in a much more scatterbrained manner, shifting uncomfortably on the edge of his too soft bed.
"You're overreacting San-"
"I'm not!" Sanji snapped again. "Law must have gotten into trouble on his way here and now he can't even answer his frigging phone. He's not alright Zoro, I'd know if he was!" He shook his phone in the air as a sign and then suddenly his voice lowered into a silent whisper, as if he was talking to himself. "Fucking yakuza bastard I knew he was gonna get Law killed one day…"
The blond's eyes were sick of worry when he once again dialed his best friend's number with a violently trembling thumb, brushing away the gentle fingers that were rubbing and soothing his neck without any results.
"Sanji..." Zoro started with a much gentler voice. "I'm sure Law is just fine." He wrapped his arm around the blond's shoulder and pulled him closer to his body. Just when he was about to continue easing his boyfriend's emotional distress with some more comforting words, Sanji's phone started ringing.
They both jumped, startled, and their eyes fell on the smart phone's screen.
Unknown caller
Sanji swallowed and pushed the phone to Zoro's hands.
"I can't take it. If it's a police man informing me about Law's death I'll..."
"Shhhhh, relax Sanji, he's not dead. I'm sure it's just some telemarketer. Calm down, Law will call you when he gets the chance to." Zoro squeezed his boyfriend's arm shortly but reassuringly before he stood up and answered the call.
"Yeah?"
"Is this Sanji?" A somewhat worried female voice carried over to Zoro's ear. Zoro gave a quick glance to Sanji's direction before scratching his head and taking a few steps further from his boyfriend, just in case this unknown woman was delivering bad news. Because it truly sounded like she was.
"No, he's right next to me but can't talk right now. I'm his… err, friend."
"But you're at Baratie, right?" The woman asked frantically, as if she was in a hurry. Zoro frowned and pondered on what to answer.
"Who was this again?"
"Oh sorry, I'm Baby 5, Law's sister." The woman said and Zoro stopped in the middle of swallowing. "I'm calling because Law isn't picking up. Do you know if he went to Baratie last night? Can you ask Sanji about that?"
Zoro stilled, let out a short, heavy sigh that resembled a gasp, and immediately regretted his reaction. Sanji's head popped up, and his eyes were wide and filled with something desperate and frightened. Zoro went quickly back to strolling around the room and cleared his throat before speaking.
"No, he didn't. He called Sanji and said he would come over but then he never appeared. We've tried calling him multiple times but he's not answering our calls either." Zoro spoke quietly, turning his back to Sanji because he didn't want to face his expression just yet.
"He never arrived at the restaurant. Something's definitely not right..." The woman was speaking to someone else. "Find that Luffy guy's contact info. And whoever else he's talked about in the past. Let's check if he's went to another friend's place before jumping into any hasty conclusions."
Even Zoro knew Law wasn't someone who'd go to Luffy's or anyone else's place either, without at least informing Sanji about his sudden change of plans. It just wasn't like him.
"Any idea what might have happened?" Zoro asked, trying to sound as calm as possible for Sanji's sake. This room didn't need any more panic than it was already oozing with.
"Thank you, Sanji's friend." The woman was back to talking to him again."Let me know if you hear anything about Law. Bye!"
"Wait-" Zoro started but the loud peeping was already in his ear. He sighed, closing the screen, and turned around. "How am I even gonna contact you when you called from an unknown numb-" Seeing his boyfriend's miserable gaze made Zoro quit his self-speech in a nanosecond. The blond looked like he was gonna burst into desperate sobs any second now.
"Just fine, huh?" The blond asked, his voice failing miserably, and then…. Then the sobs began.
/
/
/
Not even in his wildest nightmares would Law have been able to picture what he was put through in that cold, dark cellar.
When he first woke up after having been KO'd by Crocodile's punch, he thought he was drowning. A bucket-full of ice cold water was thrown on his face, and as he inhaled in shock, he swallowed and coughed until he threw up most of it. The nastiest feeling was when it came out through his nose. It flowed in violent bursts to the pits inside his cheeks, under his eyes, and only half of it came out of those cavities through his nostrils.
After that he hadn't gotten much water to drink, only a mouthful here and there to keep him conscious and alive, so in a twisted way he was glad he'd been woken up that way, even if he'd thrown up most of the water before it actually even entered his system.
The bald man, whom he'd heard some of Crocodile's other underlings call Mr 1, had first settled only for kicking him. A few good knees to his abdomen and ribs, though not hard enough to break any bones. Law figured it had to be intentional. If the man had wanted to break his bones, he definitely would've had the strength to do that. Easily. Maybe he had been afraid of Law losing consciousness from neurogenic shock again.
Anyways. Eventually the feet had gotten accompanied by fists. The hits were mostly directed at his middle/upper body because after a few hits at his head he'd passed out again, so the bastard had probably realized that it was too damaged to be able to take any hits anymore. So whenever the bastard got tired of kicking and hitting his upper body, he'd switched to stomping on his thighs and ankles. And by tired Law meant tired. The man had panted heavily, wiping sweat drops off his forehead and brushed them on the fabric on his thighs. His trousers had became soaking wet by the time he quit beating the shit out of Law.
Through all of this, the man stayed mostly silent. Other than the occasional questions about Doflamingo's whereabouts, the only noises in the room were Law's pained grunts and yells. Of course, Law never said a thing. Other than "not telling you" and "fuck off", which had seemed to anger the man even further, but Law really didn't care. He was going to get beaten anyways so he might as well have vented his anger on the man who was venting his own on him.
When the man got bored, he left the room in silence, leaving Law lying on the floor. Of course Law wasn't stupid enough to think that was it. Soon another person entered the room. It was a skinny man who looked like a gay pride parader in his frilly, pink swan-ballerina suit and ugly make up. His torturing wasn't long-lasting though. He said something about being sad for having to hit such a pretty face, and the last thing Law remembered after that was seeing a close-up of the bottom of a ballet slipper.
He woke up – again - to two people quarreling in the room. The other being the swansvestite - Law's nick name to the man, combination of swan and transvestite - and the other voice belonging to Mr 1. The swansvestite, whose name – Mr 2 – came up in the conversation, was being scolded for landing a kick on Law's head. Apparently the muscular baldy had warned him about Law's injuries and the swan-guy had broken the rules by directing his first kick straight at the raven haired boy's face. When the annoying couple had finished their verbal fight, they had left the room with a loud bang, and Law had finally been left alone for a period long enough to be able to drift to sleep.
Next time he woke up, he was still alone in the dark room. A dim light – that hurt his eyes when he looked straight at it - shone from under the only door that led to his lonely cell, and with that light he finally got the chance to inspect his surroundings a bit more. He noticed that, at some point during his sleep, the shackle on his right hand had been removed. Law wondered why was that, but then he noticed the toilet seat to his left. Even now he still remembers that snorting at their "generosity" had felt like knives being stabbed to his temples.
With difficulties, he had reached the toilet seat. The first thing in his mind, however, hadn't been his burning urge to empty his bladder but his sand-dry throat. Much to his misery, there had been no water in there. Zero at all. Or maybe it was just a good thing. When he was gonna get out of there, he wasn't sure if he'd be proud of himself if he had drank water from a dirty toilet many people before him had probably shit into. If he ever even got out of there alive. At that point, he truly wasn't sure if he'd live to see the next day. Maybe his kidnappers would kill him when they realized he really wouldn't – and couldn't – give them the information they so badly needed and wanted. Just maybe.
So he emptied his bladder and fell asleep next to the toilet seat soon after. This routine repeated itself a few more times, Law having no idea how much time had passed. His head was fuzzy and his thoughts and vision blurry every time he woke up and he didn't manage to stay awake for long before the dizziness took the best of him again.
When his head got a bit clearer, he started to think about the days. Or had it even been days? Had it been only hours? No. Surely not hours. Maybe weeks? He'd completely lost the track of time.
Some time later, when he woke up again, he found a plastic mug with some water in it next to his head. He drank the water in one gulp and regretted it right away. It only made him thirstier.
Law knew it had been at least a few days since he'd seen the bottom of the ballet slipper when he was next woken up because he woke up to getting his head smashed against the toilet seat. There had been orders to let his head injuries heal before they'd torture him again, that much he'd learned from baldy's and swansvestite's conversation. Or maybe this next idiot was just as stupid and disrespectful towards orders as the gay ballerina had been.
"Don't be so rough." A woman's voice snapped behind him, managing to actually confuse Law for a second. Another voice apologized quickly and right after that, the woman spoke again, wiping away Law's thoughts and hopes – yes, he'd actually given himself a permission to hope for something. Anything - about there existing a person inside this house who thought that torturing was insane and cruel. "I want him conscious when I play with him."
Law swore he could hear the woman lick her lips after she finished speaking.
Soon Law was dragged to the center of the room, where the shackles were. The shackle that was still attached to his other hand was removed, only to be replaced by another one. One with spikes on the inside, Law realized after his wrists got scraped by them.
When the second shackle was being put on him, Law finally looked for the woman with his eyes. It was already much easier keeping his head and gaze steady, so he figured his concussion had `worn off´. Luckily he hadn't died from it. Or maybe he wasn't so lucky after all, depending on what this woman had up her sleeves.
This woman was standing tall in front of him, her voluptuous hour-glass body bent inhumanely far on one hip as she grinned wickedly down at him, admiring the sight of the spiked shackles being put on him. Yes. The crazy glimmer in her eyes told she actually enjoyed watching Law's face as it flinched slightly every time the idiot - who couldn't lock the shackles properly around his wrists- shook them a bit too hard and the spikes dug into his skin.
The woman wore a black, revealing leather-suit that together with her dark, frilly curls made her look like a damn domina straight from a porn film. As contrast to that, she had a very cute face. Cute, though frighteningly happy – which in Law's opinion wasn't appropriate in this kind of situation, at all. After she begun with her torturing, however, Law never thought of her as cute again.
When her clumsy assistant left the room, after he had adjusted the shackles so that Law either had to stand (or keep his hands up if he was to sit) in order to avoid the spikes digging into his flesh, the woman suddenly walked up to him. She brushed the backs of her fingers softly against his cheek - which surprisingly didn't feel so sore anymore – and if the situation they were in had been any different, Law could have mistook it for an expression of romance from a lover to another.
Her nails – Law noted - were painted, long and sharp… sharp like knives. And suddenly, without any fore-warnings, those knife-sharp nails made a swift scratching motion under Law's left eye, drawing a thin trail of blood from under his skin.
Law drew in a quick breath and hissed a silent "fuck" from between his gritted teeth.
The woman graciously leaned forward, pressing her barely clothed breasts against Law's chest and the tip of his jaw, rubbing them against him in a slow, rolling motion. Then she gently kissed his ear with a whisper. "Oh my apologies sweetie. I didn't mean to cut you just yet." She didn't look even half as apologetic as her voice implied she was when she leaned back. Pretty much the opposite."I have one quick question for you first..."
The words were left hanging when the woman suddenly withdrew her warmth from Law's body and turned around. Sounds of metal clanking against metal - like Dressrosa's silverware shifting on platters – carried their way to Law's ears as he quietly observed the movements of the woman's hands from behind. Movements that looked like she was carefully trying to pick something up from the midst of a million things.
He didn't have to try and guess the origins of the sounds – even though his imagination had already ran wild the second he'd heard the first clank - because just as quickly as she had turned away from him, the woman turned around again, this time holding something long and sharp in her hand. If you asked Law, that something closely resembled the razor-sharp fillet knives he'd seen hanging on the wall of Dressrosa's master kitchen.
"Where is Doflamingo?" The woman finished what she had earlier started, flashing him a warm yet threatening smile as she slowly made the gap between them nonexistent again.
Law let his gaze wander between the woman, and the knife, and then the woman again. He did his best at hiding the lump that got stuck in his throat when he swallowed, and then proudly cocked his jaw. "Go ahead and stab me, bitch. I'm not telling you."
In less than two seconds, Law was forced to throw his head back, and his eyes made a quick visit to the back of his skull. He had to bite down on his tongue in order not to scream. And he bit down on it hard. The faint taste of blood gushed into his mouth, lingering on his tastebuds.
"Wrong answer." The woman whispered and licked her grinning, puffy lips.
/
/
/
Consciousness came back to him in the form of growling hunger.
His tired, aching wrists that had been carrying his whole body weight for who knows how long had finally been freed from their own, personal hell. His feet had given up on him in the middle of the bitch's work, and while he'd hung from the ceiling with his wrist being the only ones supporting his whole body-weight, the spikes of the shackles had drilled deep into his flesh. But that wasn't what hurt the most.
His body - all the way from his feet up to his hairline - was covered in small bruises and cuts that didn't bleed anymore. And the the smarting of his wounds, together with the dried up blood that made his skin all sticky told him that no matter how much he hoped, it hadn't been a dream.
It hadn't been anything like the shit that they fed people on tv. Instead of deep cuts and stabs that injured your organs, the woman had covered his whole body in small cuts, making everything else but his intimates bleed. Quick yet long slashes – every cut had been as much of a shock – had all felt like paper cuts except for a hundred times worse.
And the wicked grin had never left her face. Not even once. She had – no doubt - enjoyed hurting him. She had enjoyed drawing out loud, pained screams from him until there had been no voice left in him to scream, enjoyed seeing how his whole body had jolted when the knife had connected with just a tiny part of his perfect porcelain skin, seeing how - cut after cut - his will to live had slowly drifted away and left his body all alone and empty. She had downright drowned in enjoyment while she had watched him suffer, as if she had been watching the decade's greatest movie's best scenes on repeat all over and over again.
The memory of her mad, grinning face faded away from his mind when his senses came back to him. Senses he hadn't remembered even existed until now. He didn't know when it had happened, but he could smell the horrible stench of waste in the cement bunker, and he – surely yet somewhat distantly - realized he himself was the source of it. If the pain hadn't caused him to partially drift to unconsciousness every now and then, he would have thrown up on himself in the midst of the torturing. He remembered thinking about that, because right in this moment, that urge to throw up came back to him once again.
The eyes that had been closed against the banging ache now opened for the first time that felt like in eternity, and he forced himself to breath through his mouth. Breathing through his nose would have meant giving in to the before-mentioned urge of his. So breathing through his mouth, with hands that trembled more than ever, he slowly proceeded to undress himself. It was harder than he had imagined. On every inch his limbs moved, every cut - formerly closed by dried up blood - felt like opening up all again. Some of them really did, making him hiss and grunt in pain as his limps jolted uncontrollably at every reopened wound, like if constant electric shocks ran through his body.
But despite the pain, he managed – after a painful eternity – to get himself out of his dirty jeans and boxers. And after a long while of building up enough courage to do it, he kicked the pile of clothes far away to distance himself from the horrible stench. Then he just laid there, in the middle of the dark cellar, staring at the ceiling doing nothing but pitying himself.
And in that moment, he was so ashamed by his own thoughts that he wanted nothing more than to bury himself six feet underground. He never wanted to admit it, even to himself, but he had to. In his darkest moments, when the woman had cruelly cut into his flesh all over and and over again, he had felt so humiliated, so degraded that he had actually hoped he had known Doflamingo's whereabouts. He had wanted to know where he was, not for his own peace of mind, but because he had wanted to tell them. He had wanted to tell the woman where the man was so that he could have ended the torture he'd gone through because of him. But because he didn't know, the only realistic thing he could've hoped for was that the shackles on his wrists cut wounds so deep on his arteries that he'd bleed to death. Yeah. At that moment he had hoped to die. Rather than the woman's knife, he would have chosen death.
And right now, as he was lying butt-naked in that dark, cold solitary cell of his - covered in blood and his own waste - he still wasn't sure if he wanted to be alive or not.
/
/
/
A limp body was hanging on a wall, held upright only by the shaking, white knuckles that strangled it. The eyelids had long ago closed, a moment before the – now still - limbs had stopped jolting in an epileptic manner and shortly after a loud snap had been heard from the – now broken – neck.
"Young master… He's already... He's been dead for a while now…" Baby 5's – the only person who dared to talk in his presence right now - soft voice whispered from his right.
For a few more seconds, the man didn't move, as if he hadn't heard the woman. Then, slowly but surely, his fingers – one by one as if they were stiffened because of cold – let go of the dead man's throat. The body fell to the ground with a soft thud, and the man who'd held it in his hand just seconds ago, turned around.
He was trembling violently, the veins on his forehead bulging visibly even to the furthest observer, his whole demeanor so intimidating that even the three bodies behind him hadn't dared to die with their eyes open. That's how frightening the Donquixote family head's rage was.
Baby 5 had never seen Doflamingo so mad. Not when Dellinger had made a deal with the wrong smugglers and they had lost a 1 with more than ten zeroes after it worth of money. Not when the Chinese Triad had invaded their lands and trashed many of their clubs so that the police had taken interest in them and closed them down. Of course with Doflamingo's influence, the clubs had been up and running the next week and the Triad gang had been extinguished from the underground business for good. But damn that had been one hellish week for the inhabitants of Dressrosa. Yet even then, the man hadn't been as mad as he was now.
Unlike Baby 5, most of the other officers had left to different parts of the city to "guide their underlings" in search of Law, when actually they had just ran away from Doflamingo's rampage. It could be easily told because they had never showed up in front of the man themselves, and had only sent lowly underlings to deliver the bad news… knowingly sent them to their deaths. The pile of three bodies behind Doflamingo was just "minimal damage" to their lines caused by no-one else but their leader himself. That itself was already enough to tell what madness there existed in that man's mind.
"Baby 5."
"Yes, Young Master?" The woman replied in a hurry, slightly startled.
"That was the ninth messenger sent by Dellinger, wasn't it?"
Baby 5 swallowed. "Yes he was."
The man turned his everything but calm face towards the woman, exaggeratedly slowly, his jaw tightly clenched. During all these years, she'd learned to judge his mood from the shapes of his face instead of his eyes like you could do with most of the people. In Doflamingo's case, his eyes were hidden so his jaw and his mouth were the only option. And right now, his mouth was a tighter line and his jaw in a more clenched state than Baby 5 had ever seen in the long history they shared together.
"Send him a message that next time he sends a messenger who's got nothing else to tell me but that Law hasn't been found, I'll find his miserable, frightened ass and lay it down next to those three behind me."
Baby 5's heart skipped a beat, and for the first time in her life, it wasn't because of love.
"Y-yes, Young Master…"
"And the rest of you." He started, facing everyone else in his family who'd been brave enough to stay within his sight. "Find. Me. Law."
/
/
/
Not more than a few hours later, Law heard footsteps closing in on him.
He lifted his cheek off the floor but felt too weak to turn his head around so he quickly put it back down. He knew he'd hear who had arrived soon enough. They all usually came to his field of vision to mock him with their belittling gazes before they started fucking him up.
"Wash him up. I don't want to touch something so dirty." A familiar voice, Law recalled belonged to swansvestite, said. He was pinching his nose, judging by the nasal vibe to his tone.
"Yes, Bon Clay-sama." Someone, most probably an underling, said from a very close distance and right after picked Law up from the floor with 2 pairs of hands. Or was it two people? Could a person have 4 hands? Law knew there was an obvious answer to that question but he couldn't pick one of the 50-50 chances in his state of mind.
"And wash the floors too, this stench makes me want to vomit."
"Yes, Bon Clay-sama."
"And let him drink some water, I don't want him to pass out on me because of dehydration.
"Yes, Bon Clay-sama."
They brought in buckets of water, cold water, pouring some on Law but most of it on the floors of his cement prison, cleaning all the waste off the room. Before Law could smell the faint scent of roses on him, and bet there was soap mixed in the water, he had to bite his lip to prevent a pained moan from escaping because the water smarted his wounds. It didn't hurt as badly as he thought it would, so he felt confident in calculating that it had been several days since the woman's visit to his cell. It took days for wounds to close and heal, and his were already almost completely closed, not counting the ones on the crooks of his arms and legs, and the others that had been reopened when he had moved around before.
But still. He didn't complain. He didn't even complain about the coldness, or some random asshole touching his body. He just tried to enjoy the feeling of a wet sponge scrubbing his skin very gently, cleaning up every crook and nanny on his body, carefully proceeding upwards from his toes all the way to his hair. Not all the wounds smarted so badly as the others, but it was still a small hell to him. If he hadn't known it was gonna make him feel a bit better about himself and the state he was in, he just might have given a go to try and bite his washer's hand off.
Even in his drowsy state, the predatory smile on the swansvestite's lips as he watched Law being washed by his subordinates didn't go unnoticed by him. Maybe it was because for the first time in a unknowingly long while he had been given enough water to cease his thirst, and could focus on his surroundings better. Whatever the reason was, that smile he saw was unnerving and disturbing. As if the man was eating him with his eyes.
When it was all over, Law couldn't smell that horrifying stench anymore. Not off of himself nor the room. It was all covered in a faint but pleasing scent of roses. For the first time in days, he felt a small tug of relief at his heart, almost forgetting he was being held captive in a cold cellar and that a man was staring him in a way that put his whole skin on goosebumps.
But he should have known better, of course. Or well, he did. He wasn't stupid enough to think all the torturing was gonna be over and he would be allowed to dance on roses from now on. Of course not. He was a genius, not an idiot. But to what extend? Not to this sadly.
When the underlings had done their job, they quietly left the room with respecting bows to their leader. This so-called leader of theirs, his predatory gaze never having left Law, slowly made his way to the center of the room where Law was in a half-sitting position, too weak to stand up and carry his weight on his feet to even think about escaping. This was probably the reason he hadn't been put on shackles again, Law figured.
The man circled behind him, his eyes taking in the whole skinny, naked demeanor of the boy in front of him, and suddenly leaned in to take a pleasured sniff off Law's neck. "Ahh, much better."
Law leaned away in disgust, letting out a small warning growl as he did so. He knew he wasn't in a state where he could put up a serious fight, but guessing where this was going, he'd rather have died than not tried.
The man merely chuckled at Law's desperate attempt at creating distance between them, and circled back to his front again.
"Miss Doublefinger said you don't know of Doflamingo's whereabouts, so everyone else left already. She said you'd have told her if you had known, and I believe her. The way she handles people is… Well, you know what it's like." The man grinned at him, brushing his fingers against Law's tender cheek. Gently, like a lover would. "You're of no use to us anymore, not even worth of anyone's time to come and end your miserable life here. They just decided to leave you here and let you die on your own." His fingers ran along Law's jawline, leaving a tingling yet smarting sensation at their wake, his touch still gentle as ever. Law showed his disgust by yanking his head away, leaving the fingers hanging by themselves, alone and stroking at air.
"You must be curious, right?" The man asked, chuckling at Law's cockiness. It seemed like it only managed to amuse him instead of angering or pissing him off. "Why did I stay back when everyone else left?"
"Not really:" Law gritted his teeth, meaning it. Everything in the man's body-language told why he had stayed back, and Law had no interest in it, at all. He should've known this was coming the first time the man had called him a pretty face.
"Well I am." The man said, crouching down to Law's level and leaning forward like a cat, his painted lips brushing against Law's skin where hid fingers had been before. This time, before Law could yank his head away, he placed one hand behind his head and pulled him against himself, knowing that Law was too weak to overpower him or even put up a good enough resistance. He breathed in Law's scent a few more times like a creep, and then continued brushing his lips along Law's skin, to his ear for a whisper.
"Curious about the boy who managed to turn Asia's underworld's unrivaled king into a homosexual and make him turn his back on all his earlier flings. Curious to just how well can you pleasure a man for Doflamingo to stop fucking all his other whores." As he spoke, he grabbed Law's hand with his free one and roughly shoved it against his puffy, medieval shorts, forcing the boy to feel him up despite his struggles.
"I'm gonna test it myself, just how well can Doflamingo's slut wriggle his skinny ass to pleasure men." The man said, rubbing his front against Law's palm and suckling at his earlobe with heated pants escaping through his lips every now and then. "I can't wait to fuck you."
"Get away from me you sick fuck." Law growled, trying to shove the man's lips away with a headbutt but the man had his hair too tightly fisted for him to succeed. Instead, he fisted his hand around the man's sacks that hung below his already erected member, hoping to hurt the man enough to make him withdraw even if it was for a bit, so he could make a better plan.
"´That's it boy… yeah, just like that." The man said, thrusting his hips to Law's touch wildly. "Grab them harder, squeeze them." He panted, slipping his tongue into Law's ear, twirling it around there.
Law gasped and withdrew his hand from the man with as much force as he could muster up, and it worked. Most probably because the man had loosened his grip when he had though Law was willingly trying to pleasure him. Yeah, the man seemingly found pleasure in getting hurt, or then Law's grip had been too weak to even hurt him in the first place. Whichever it was, it crept the hell out of Law. This man was a total psychopath, and obviously had some weird kinks; Law's ear was pooling with saliva.
The swansvestite frowned when the hand that had fondled his balls ah so perfectly suddenly disappeared. He backed away to meet Law's eyes. Eyes that shone bright with anger and disgust that the swansvestite mistook for playing hard-to-get. Without a second thought, he crushed their lips together and brought Law's hand back to his crotch, only to tumble backwards and hiss in anger seconds later.
The man held his hand over his mouth, brushed his thumb against his lower lip and brought it up to confirm his guess right. "Oh, you bit me? Feisty are we?" He smirked, with a tad bit darker shadow to it this time, and looked almost mad when he started crawling towards Law again.
Law had hoped his actions would anger the man so that he would go back to kicking him like he'd done before, but no such luck. The man seemed to have made a decision that involved both their erogenous zones already before entering the room, and it looked like nothing could snap him out of it. Law had to do something, fast.
"Doflamingo doesn't fuck me." He said hurriedly, blushing like mad and trying not to mind it. It worked. The ballerina-suited man stopped on his tracks, his hand only inches away from Law's thigh, looking confused.
"Are you trying to fool me?" Mr 2 asked, blinking a few times and actually forgetting about his sexual needs and raging erection for a moment.
Law shook his head quickly, maybe a bit too quickly because his mind suddenly felt light and he involuntarily leaned forward before he could regain his balance and lean back further away from the man again.
"No, I mean it. I've never had sex with Doflamingo. I swear." He spoke fast, convincing the man by looking at him straight in his eyes, hoping that this would be a turn-off huge enough for the man to forget his dreams about having sex with him. Well, he left out the part about what sexual acts they had done together with the blond man, but that wasn't important right now. He knew he wasn't lying when he said they hadn't had sex and that was enough to keep his face straight and eyes on the man's.
The man pondered on it for a short few seconds, looking confused, and then voiced a question. "You're a virgin?"
Law froze and said nothing. He didn't even nod. The newly found excitement in the man's voice told him it had been the wrong choice to open his mouth in the first place.
"So I get to fuck Doflamingo's lover when even he himself hasn't done it? Fuck, that's great." The man purred, licking his lips as he closed in the few inches in between of his hand and Law's thigh. He brought a hand, this time his own, to his bulging crotch and started stroking himself as his other hand crawled up Law's thigh, towards his bare member.
Law tried to shove the man off but he was too slow. The man had already guessed his intentions and acted first, grabbing law's thigh firmly and throwing him around with ease so that Law was now lying on his stomach. Then he proceeded to sit on Law's calf's, preventing him from moving, and gave a hard spank to both of his butt-cheeks.
Law jolted at the sudden pain, regretting it immediately. As his body moved so suddenly, his skin scraped against the rough cement, reminding him of the existence of his -still but barely- closed wounds. It'd be a hell if they opened up all over again.
"Be a good boy and stay still." The man whispered to Law's ear, suddenly having leaned on top of him, fumbling at Law's hands while he spoke. Law heard a clicking sound behind his back, and immediately knew what had happened. The man had handcuffed him. He tried to wriggle and pull his hands apart from each other, but knew it was futile. No matter how well Vergo had trained him in the past, he couldn't break metal with his bare hands.
When the ballerina-man had made sure Law was immobilized, he rose to his feet, still keeping one of his feet on top of Law's back just in case.
Law could hear the clinging of a belt's buckle, and soft thuds to his left. The man was undressing. Panic started to run through his veins, and he remembers wondering why it only hit him then. He didn't get a chance to even try to wriggle though, because the man was back to sitting on his calf's too soon, this time bare, hairy skin meeting his.
"Don't touch me. Don't you fucking dare." Law hissed, sounding more frightened than threatening like he had intended to. Carefully, as if not having heard a word he said, the man tugged his own clothes and placed them under Law and himself, as if to make the platform more comfortable. Then he forcefully pushed a piece of his clothing to Law's mouth, muffling his protests and securing it with a… garter? What the fuck.
"You've got a pretty mouth but the words coming out of it ruin it all. So I hope you don't mind." He purred into Law's neck, drawing a line of gentle bites down to his shoulder and below his shoulder blade. Then he let out a frustrated moan, as if he was too impatient to go slowly anymore, and replaced his mouth with his hands on both sides of Law's back. The way they ran on his skin left cold shivers running down Law's spine, getting closer and closer to the areas of his body he didn't like anyone touching. Anyone else but himself and…
When the man's hands reached his butt-cheeks, and gave them small squeezes with delighted sounds leaving the man's mouth, Law closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against the cold cement, cursing Doflamingo for not being there. Where was he when he needed him? Why hadn't he found him yet? Why was he letting this creepy, perverted transvestite have his way with him? Did he not care? He knew his thoughts were illogical and his accusations misdirected, but he didn't care. He just wanted Doflamingo to be there right then.
A slap to his butt drew him back from his thoughts, forcing him to direct his attention back to the present. Forcing, because he hated every passing second of this present. The man massaged and rubbed the spot on his skin that was on fire from his earlier hit, as if to care for him, only to spank him again shortly after. Law wanted to bite his teeth together and tell the man to fuck off, but he couldn't because of the gag-cloth in his mouth. He wanted to turn away, push the man off him and kick his ass, but he couldn't because of his weakened state and the handcuffs that pretty efficiently prevented him from moving around at all. Every time he tried to kick, his legs were stopped by the man sitting on him. Every time he tried to hit, the handcuffs tightly pulled his hands back to their places. Every time he tried absolutely anything at all, he was restricted by something. He felt miserable. Beaten and miserable.
The moment Law felt something skinny and hard press against his butt-cheeks, the panic really hit him. His eyes shot wide open and his hips desperately wriggling from side to side, he screamed muffled, quiet whimpers through the cloth. Lips clamped down on his ear and teeth scraped on his lobe with a whisper.
"Don't worry. I'll fuck you even if you don't wriggle your ass so invitingly in front of me." The man panted, his hands proceeding to spread that mentioned ass for better access for his erection. "I just need to lube it first. It will hurt if we put it in dry. Though… For you it's probably gonna be painful anyways." The man smirked, biting at Law's earlobe one last time before he withdrew his mouth and straightened his posture.
Law could only guess by the gargling sounds of it that the man was collecting spit into his mouth. Then soon, he felt something wet and slimy flowing down on his skin, making it's way between his butt-cheeks, confirming his guess right. It felt cold and disgusting.
Then Law felt the man's cock slide in between his cheeks too, smearing the saliva on his skin, clearly focused around one spot, making it all even more horrendous. He pressed his eyes tightly shut, one tear escaping from a corner and running down his jawline, and he bit down on the cloth as hard as he could, even though it felt like it would dislocate his jaw all over again. Through his muffled sobs, he laughed at himself pitifully. With his body so exhausted and hurt like this, the only thing he could do right here was to lie there and dislocate his jaw if he wanted to. He couldn't push the man away and stop him from having his way with him. He couldn't move his limps, and doubted he'd been able to do that even if he hadn't been handcuffed. After all these weeks, his body had became so miserably weak he couldn't even protect his own dignity. He felt so fucking miserable.
The moment he felt the man shifting above him to press against him from a better angle, Law hit his forehead – hard – against the cement floor, hoping to lose consciousness. If he couldn't prevent this from happening, he could at least make sure he remembered nothing of it.
The feeling off pressure coming from the outside was already making him cringe, and the man hadn't even pushed in yet. Tears bursting from between his closed eyelids, Law banged his forehead against the floor again, this time harder. He saw stars, but it wasn't enough. He could feel his own muscles shifting, slowly getting out of the intruder's way, and he cried. `Ńo, no, nonono.´
Another bang came, but this time it wasn't only Law's forehead. The door to the cell opened loudly, and after that, a magazine-full series of bangs followed. The weight above him fell, and Law could hear the man hitting his doll-head against the hard floor without a word, half falling limp across Law's spread legs. The man was dead. The man was dead and his ass was still non-penetrated for fuck's sake. Law wanted to cry out in joy, but he wouldn't. He had no idea who'd came through that door and saved him, and his neck didn't have enough strength in it for him to raise his head and check. It could've been an enemy just as well as an ally.
So Law waited, waited through an unbearably long period of few seconds that it took for his savior to stride to his side with 3 long steps, to kick his dead almost-rapist off him to the other end of the room, and to grab him and turn him around.
The fifty shade's of purple that met Law's gaze washed through him with a wave of relief so hard that he burst into sobs. The cloth was quickly pulled out of his mouth so he could actually produce miserable sounds to accompany his tears and the jolting of his body. He threw his head to his side, brushing it against the ah so familiar and soft feathers, and burying it there with all the strength he had left in his body.
His savior was here.
/
/
/
Okay, so here it is, the reason why it took me so long to post this chapter: This is my first time ever writing torturing scenes, and I hated every single bit of it. Not the concept but the fact that I suck at writing it. I've planned for Law to be captured and tortured by Crocodile ever since the beginning, and only now when it actually got to that point in the story, did I realize that I have zero skills and confidence in writing the torturing scenes… xD Like total zero. It's just not inside my area of "comfort" and where my skills lie at. Not at all lol.
So I rewrote, rewrote and once again rewrote this chapter, and finally went with this "fade into black" style. I couldn't describe it all in detail no matter how much I tried, but I hope this is enough to let you guys know he went through hell there.
Oh and now that I finally published this, I decided not to proof-read it again. Ever. I don't want to end up regretting it and keep on rewriting it for another nearly-a-year. So please, don't be too harsh on me. Constructive criticism is always welcome, but not plain, simple "Whoa this chapter was shit, quit being a writer" stuff please. Thanks~ ^^
I know it's not really convincing but I really gave it my all. And I promise to make things better in the next chapters.
Thank you once again for reading! And please review and tell me if I somehow made it or not :D