animatedsmoke | (no subject)

Who: Potemkin, Ky Kiske
What: Torture porn on the stage of a corrupt empire
When: AU
Where: Zepp

Warnings: noncon, sex slavery

Heroes want the world to know that the crimes of Zepp have not gone ignored. Heinous transgressions toward man and cruelty unparalleled to what else could be found on modern earth can go unanswered in the technological country because of its isolationism, the remoteness allowing for a few to put all of the land under their law, but there were fighters willing to prove that this should not be. Their tools are espionage, elusiveness, and just a little bit of force. At the time the secret effort cannot afford much more than that. When one warrior investigating took a wrong turn, the oligarchy seized on him, finding through him their chance to express all of their recent grievances.

Potemkin never did consider himself a hero. He never carried any desire to antagonize evil, or any ambitions other than wanting to keep his own definition of himself. Holding on to his identity, in the way that satisfied Potemkin, required disobeying direct orders, so the ones giving them out weren't very keen on arguing the differences between heroes, rebels, and simple yet very spirited men. The time came when he became officially, on the papers of clerical cabinets, designated as useless for the matters of manpower and warfare. He had to be repurposed. After the first time, as soon as he was left alone he was breathless and felt the backs of his hands damp with tears that came out uncontrollably, having made their way to his face when he insisted over and over that he was still himself. Till the end, he did keep his word true, if only just the word. Potemkin did not die from what was done to him, even as it happened again, and again. What was truly alive, what had once been the living part of Potemkin, retreated into himself, to a place as deep and unreachable to the world as the bottom of the ocean is to a wave. The administration of Zepp now knows the unusual slave as being virtually mute, a footnote to his other idiosyncrasies. He had stopped talking when he no longer expected anything to happen from anything he could say.

So he makes no question even when something registers as very out of the ordinary. He is moved to a place he doesn't recognize, where his rudimentary clothing is removed except for of course the collar, a relatively thin model that stays close to the neck. He's graduated to not needing any insurance to his loyalty other than the threat of the bomb. After that he's already left on his own.

He seems to be tucked in the side wings of a very short theater, the only lights just making the room feel darker. The intent as far as he can tell is for him to wait until given further signal.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Ky’s head snaps up at the command, because it’s still easier to focus on the sound of voices than the sound of their bodies coming together, even when they say things like that, things that make him fight not to tense up at as a result of.

And it’s also an absurd sort of request, because what’s happening is burned in under his skin, into his soul, and he doesn’t think there’s anything physical that would be more jarring than that, than the memory of Potemkin pushing into him while the crowd jeered. Than his own ability to stop it from happening.

Potemkin doesn't bother looking up. His neck stays fixed while he hears the same, still staring at the same spot on the floor, just a little above where he could see the back of Ky's head. He can see Ky turn underneath him, and knows what is on the other side. Fear, desperation for one last chance to be something other than helpless.

It's too late for Potemkin to think of anything like that for him.

The air in his lungs becomes thicker until his breath catches in his throat, and that's when he knows it's his time. Potemkin breaks out into what becomes a scramble on the floor, legs and feet moving to retreat out of Ky, the suddenness of something of that size being pulled out leaving a feeling like a blow. He emerges just in time, right before he shudders kneeling behind Ky, the wet stickiness of his orgasm falling on Ky's back.

Ky focuses on his breathing, trying not to think about the utter humiliation of his position, of the fact that this is exactly what his audience has wanted from him. He tries not to think about the fact that he feels weirdly empty, like his body isn’t used to the sensation without Potemkin in him, and that with everything else, with how Potemkin finishes, leaves him feeling cold.

It’s easier for the first few moments that he doesn’t really want to move. And then that starts to seem like a problem, because he doesn’t know what happens now, what he’s going to do.

A few more precious moments of breath and then he speaks, softly, “Potemkin. Kiss me?” Because he needs to not blame the man, and because he needs something to not let it end quite like this.

Potemkin stays kneeling in the same position he was left in after pulling out. He doesn't move in reaction to Ky's crumpled form, or even his own orgasm. He had become a rapist, given up the only moral cause he ever tried to stand up for, and lost more of his mind.

He hears his name again, and it registers as an order.

Yes, Master.

He puts an arm around Ky with a tenderness that came too late, brings Ky over to him, and still kneeling presses his lips against his.