animatedsmoke | (no subject)

(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.

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Potemkin stands waiting for a few more moments before realizing nothing is coming, that this innocent man has been silenced by himself. Beyond the physical restraints and torture, his will has been covered from the light, and Potemkin scrabbles for something to do, anything to not leave it at that. If Potemkin could do what he wanted, he would respond with his name, "Ky," and he mouths it while driving Ky to the ground. At first it's a one-two response, but he continues repeating it, rushed and repetitive like he's desperately begging. It grows sloppier and more distorted the more he rubs against Ky's body, losing himself to the act. It's a reprieve from thinking about what he's doing.

After several iterations of his gasping, Potemkin's cock has reached deep enough, and he starts nudging slighting further in and back for a shallow fuck. Potemkin's hips act as a hammer, and his hindquarters stick out in the air shivering from thrusting into him.

Hearing his name would do a lot for Ky to feel less like an object, but maybe even that wouldn’t be enough, since there’s the audience, watching and jeering and he can’t block them out, can’t change the basic nature of what’s happening. Even so he tries to focus inside his own head instead of on what’s happening, to hide from as much of it as he could.

He would work through his own reactions after the fact, would deal then with the reality of what’s happening. For now it’s about working up what he can of his dignity, and that means not crying out again, it means trying to pretend this isn’t happening even though he can feel it and they can all see it.

Ky is keeping still to keep a hold on his reactions, but Potemkin is continuing to move, pulling out his penis, enough so that he can go back in. He does it again, and then enough times to create a rhythm of backing up and slapping against Ky with a force that could crush.

In his head Potemkin is running over and over, he doesn't want this, he doesn't want to do this, and yet he's doing all of it, and he doesn't know which answer is more disgusting, if it's for himself after all or for the officers who set up this degradation in the first place. (And who are mockingly impressed at the two of them going at it. "He's a perfect natural at keeping a cock," Ky's strain at keeping his composure not going uncommented.)

This situation could be different in a million different subtle ways that would make it better. There were probably as many ways it could be worse, but right now Ky didn’t know the motives of those who were dictating this scene, didn’t want to make any reassurances to himself about how at least some things weren’t happening when for all he knew, they might still.

Besides, it wasn’t as though he was focused on finding an optimistic conclusion to the situation. Ky was getting by the best he could by simply holding on to get to the conclusion, whatever it was, because then it would be over, then he would be able to keep himself from flushing in embarrassment and anger from the attention and the remarks.

Despite the fact that the tightness is physically painful to both of them, the act feels more natural as time goes on and Potemkin becomes almost used to it, as disturbing as that is. His breathing uncontrollably becomes thick and heavy for reasons other than his distress, and a pressure builds up in his crotch that's only relieved each time he goes into Ky.

Potemkin can't help but feel that Ky is comparatively undebauched, which should be the only good thing in this situation when he is the much more scrutinized party, the one who is getting every errant movement and eyecatching image poured over, to be seized and pinned up for everyone's enjoyment. But as he thrusts into the body beneath him, Potemkin almost wishes he was given the choice on how to hold him. There's not a lot Potemkin can do to in this position to interact with Ky, other than shift his hand slightly or adjust his hips.

He’s still bent over and taking it, enough for the audience and he’s never one good at pretending stoicism, only at pushing aside what he’s feeling to focus on the mission at hand. There is no mission at the current moment, no one who needs him except for Ky himself and perhaps Potemkin, but that’s not something Ky can handle right now.

Not when he knows what defiance means for Potemkin and he still wants to plead for it, would take a different punishment himself in exchange for putting an end to this farce. But he has to believe in his own powerlessness to get through this without making a complete fool of himself. He stares at the audience, intending to try to cause them shame, but instead he ends up looking away again, down at the floor.

Potemkin doesn't have pride as a sex slave, but he feels an insistent thought that if he was allowed to keep holding on to Ky, he could have made this more pleasurable for him. He could have stimulated him least enough so that he wouldn't look away from him, faced him with his own heat creeping on his body...

It has to be regret, flaring up at the last second. Or maybe all the barriers in his mind are falling apart as he gets closer to total arousal, in spite of how he wishes that was impossible when he's sexually torturing a man and having all of his shamefulness watched.

Eventually Potemkin follows Ky's lead, and too bends down his head to try mentally escaping what's happening, but that doesn't block out hearing things. "Potemkin, make sure he has something to show for this, when you're done with him."

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.

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