Tackey & Tsubasa fanfiction : On Your Knees (Chapter 6)
Title: On Your Knees (Complete)
Pairing: Takizawa Hideaki x Imai Tsubasa
Rating: NC-18, Trigger Warning, Rape, Torture
Summary: When Yokohama Region rebels from Japan's Corrupt Government. Tsubasa is a strong-willed war prisoner. Too bad that soon Takizawa was chosen to be the one that try to breaking him.
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
A voice calls out his name and Tsubasa can barely make out the owner of the familiar voice, let alone that the voice is calling for him in the first place, “Tsubasa”, the voice calls out, “Tsubasa.” The said man struggles to wake up from a wondrous sleep, he’d forgotten how good sleeping could be, how comfortable it could make a person feel. This had been his best sleep in forever, he was warm from being cuddled up in a bundle of blankets with a foam mattress that shaped to his body perfectly so that he was comfortable enough to never toss and turn…. Well, as cuddled up as he could be while he was still cuffed to the bed and even if the mattress wasn’t comfortable enough and he’d toss and turn he wouldn’t be able to turn much because of the cuffs…, he was also clean from the recent shower that he had taken for the first time… a real shower… in almost six months, and he wasn’t hungry, although he had only eaten that granola bar.
Tsubasa wakes up to find that there is a warm body pressed against his own, and a hint of sweet vanilla on the air. “You fell asleep Tsubasa.”
The said man opens his eyes, his weariness blunting the edges of his fear, he knows that what is about to happen is inevitable and, although he’d like for it to be, it still wouldn’t change anything… he wouldn’t be able to run away even if he could because of the cuffs keeping him chained to the bed.
Takizawa climbs into the space between Tsubasa’ knees, stroking his thighs and lifts them as he looks at the worried, exhausted, fearful and angry expression on the prisoner’s face.
Tsubasa turns his attention from Takizawa to the ceiling above and stares at the shifting shapes on the dark ceiling. He clenches his hands into fists as Takizawa moves in, the penetration stinging his still sore body. Takizawa is slow, patient, everything that the other guards had never been, but it doesn’t change the fact that Tsubasa is still raw down there, still so torn that he wouldn’t be surprised if the past tortures his rear had been put through were enough to ensure that it would never heal. Another difference is that Takizawa does it face to face. In the past, Tsubasa had always been able to look away, to keep his head down, to hide his pain, to fall back on his anger but now that wasn’t an option. Takizawa’s face is right there in front of his, in plain sight for him to see clearly, the officer’s gaze locked on his. This isn’t thoughtless brutality, nowhere near close nor is it brutal... it’s forced, but not brutal.
Tsubasa shudders as Takizawa pushes further in, he repeats that this time is still forced, it still hurts to no end, but it’s not brutal. “What the fuck does that even mean? There should be no distinction” Tsubasa mind wraps around the thought like a snake wrapping around it’s captured prey, “rape should not feel intimate like this, Takizawa shouldn’t be able to get into his head as well.” It’s unfair. It’s fucking crazy. He shifts to ease the pain a little, and bites his lip.
“Better?” Takizawa asks in a hushed murmur. “Fuck you,” the latter manages, his voice hitching as he speaks those oh so familiar words. “This is how it is now Tsubasa,” Takizawa tells him while he pushes Tsubasa’ legs back, being extra cautious of his knee, curling his spine. “This is what we both want.” “I never wanted this.” Takizawa smiles down at him, he loves the broken face of the other that, although broken, he is still holding strong throughout everything going on. “But you’ve stopped fighting, whenever I touch you, you stop fighting.” “Because I know I can’t win” Tsubasa thinks but keeps mum, biting his lower lip to keep a moan from escaping as Takizawa hits a certain spot within him that has his senses go haywire and his eyesight nearly blank out. “Because...” Tsubasa voices out after the moan fades away back into the pit of his stomach, but he has nothing to say, no words that will make sense of any of this. “Because I’m different than the rest,” Takizawa says, jerking his hips forward causing Tsubasa to gasp as his cock presses in deeper, “because so are you.” “I’m really not.”
Tsubasa drops his gaze, staring at Takizawa’s chin rather than his eyes or his lips as he wonders how long this will take. He tries not to feel how Takizawa feels inside him, how hot he is, he tries to separate himself from what is happening, tries to summon up his anger, his disgust, his hatred, but they slip through his fingers like water and drip away over the edges of his awareness. “He doesn’t want you. He wants the shell of you. Hold on. Hold on, because you’re slipping.” His conscious tells him, commanding him to keep his strong stance against the other “don’t let him break you.”
Takizawa fucks with a slow, steady rhythm, rocking Tsubasa back and forth on the mattress, it is different from all the times back in the prison camp: it is quiet, gentle, it’s not like any time in the cells: rough with no emotions attached.
Tsubasa pulls against the cuffs, the rattle of the chains lost to the creak of the bed, to his huffing breath, to the deeply set night that captures the world at that moment. “No,” he whispers as Takizawa reaches between them and grasps his cock “don’t touch me.” “Shhh,” Takizawa strokes him firmly, and Tsubasa’ cock responds. “Get hard for me, rebel, please me like I’m pleasing you.” “Can’t,” Tsubasa arches his back as Takizawa thumbs the slit of his cock. “Don’t!” but he can. He does, this is just his body, that’s what he told himself, over and over in that cell: just his body, It meant nothing to him back then, when it was in pain so why the fuck does it matter now if Takizawa can tease an erection from him? It’s the same signals and synapses, just firing in a different pattern this time. It’s just sensory information. Pain or pleasure, Tsubasa has no control. He’s complicit in neither, he didn’t hate himself when he was hurting, so why now?
The cuffed man under the officer closes his eyes, frowning as a shiver of pleasure washes over…him, through him…. And he’s sent into a temporary paralysis as the other kisses him. “It could be anyone, couldn’t it?” Tsubasa thinks to himself “with my eyes closed, it could be anyone who is kissing me now and I could be anywhere.” Although Tsubasa would love for that imagination to be true he knows beyond all hope that it’s not, it will never be true. There is a part of him, the weaker part, that wants to rewrite this as it happens, that wants to paint the face of the boy he once loved over Takizawa’s, to pretend each touch, each small thrust, belongs to someone else, to the man that he knew long ago but, even if he could do it, he wouldn’t; this man is raping him. He won’t let himself forget that.
When everything is over, Tsubasa doesn’t come. When Takizawa rolls off him to the other side of the bed, he eases his injured knee back down and opens his eyes to stare at the ceiling again, his ass stings from the previous activity that it was put through, his muscles ache and he is shaking. The minutes thereafter stretch out in an endless seem so does the night, his whole fucking life… a whole fucking life of spreading himself docilely for this man.
“I have you now,” Takizawa whispers. Tsubasa turns his head away.
-----
Sometime before dawn, Takizawa opens the door to the hotel room and sits on the small stoop outside, he lights a cigarette and watches the smoke curl upward, away from this paltry little room that opens straight onto the potholed parking lot, away from all the petty dreams of the people slumbering between the stained walls, past the sagging roof, and up to the stars.
Tsubasa is still awake, Takizawa knows it; the night before had been one of his best but for the other… he could tell that it was getting to him… he wanted the prisoner to give in and finally accept that this was his fate, it had happened, the inevitable had finally played out its part, Takizawa had won and there was no going back.
The officer decides that they’ll leave before first light, he considers that the fewer people that see Tsubasa, the better.
He sighs.
“Why me?” Tsubasa whispers suddenly in the darkness beyond the open door. Takizawa shifts. “Because I couldn’t break you with the usual bland promises, Tsubasa, and I know why. It’s because you had nothing: nothing to go back to, nobody to have hope in seeing again, not a face you thought of, not a smile or a laugh, or a warm body beside yours, you only wanted the sky, the empty sky.” “You can’t know that about me.” Tsubasa’ voice is strained.
Takizawa flicks his cigarette outside and it hits the concrete, tiny sparks flaring, “of course I can, because looking at you is like looking in a mirror.” “You’d rape your own reflection?” “Rape?” Takizawa stands up, and crosses back to the bed, closing the door to the hotel room since he no longer needs light of the still dark sky to shine in, “what does that even mean? I’ve seen you raped, and you never looked like that.” “You’re twisted” Tsubasa snarls, pulling at the cuffs that still chain him to the bed as he sees the dark silhouette of Takizawa’s shadow making its way through the darkness to him. “I wanted you,” Takizawa said, running a hand down Tsubasa' chest, “so I took you. It was simple.” “You think the law doesn’t apply to you?” the other spat in disgust as he tries to pull away from the touch, “I know it doesn’t.”
“Do you remember the first time you interrogated a man?” Tsubasa clamps his mouth shut but Takizawa only laughs quietly, and sits beside him on the bed. “Of course, you’re a vehicle repair man, aren’t you? Well, imagine you weren’t. Imagine that instead you dealt with information; information that you had to extract from your enemy and imagine that one day, with your superiors breathing down your neck for results, the sound of a bombardment in the distance at the same time, and the enemy is sitting right there in front of you... and he refuses to talk, and you know he’s lying, this guy isn’t a vehicle repair man. They’re never vehicle repair men.”
Tsubasa frowns at that.
Takizawa’s smile fades as he continues on with what he has to say “…and this guy... this guy sitting in front of you, the filthy captive from the rebel side, you know he can give you exactly what you need to prevent a new attack because he has information that no one else has, you can save lives with the information that he's keeping shut within him, if only you can make this man talk. Not just the lives of your own men, and not just any civilians that get caught in the crossfire or the latest bombing, but you can even save the lives of the enemy also… doesn’t make much sense to do so since they are the enemy but you can but only if that stubborn little shit will speak. You can be bigger than politics. You can, Tsubasa. You can stop the bloodshed.”
Tsubasa’ breath hitches as he listens. “But,” Takizawa continues on, sliding his hand down his prisoner’s hip, “he just won’t talk. So what do you do?” “You hurt him,” Tsubasa whispers.
“Yes, you make the choice to cross that line and you cross it so many times that you can’t even see it anymore. You’ve done that, Tsubasa. I know you have. We’re the same. And we’re tired of it.” the prisoner is silent.
Takizawa reaches up and unfastens the set of cuffs keeping the other chained to the bed but he keeps the pair on his wrists. Tsubasa brings his arms down slowly, resting his hands on his abdomen.
“Get up,” Takizawa commands, but with a gentle voice. He stands, and helps Tsubasa sit up, feeling the stiffness as the other’s bones and muscles are heard popping loudly as he moves. The officer helps him swing his injured leg off the bed, and lends him his hand to pull him to his feet. “Come with me.” “pfft, as if I have a fucking choice!” Tsubasa snarls.
They shuffle toward the open door and Takizawa slips an arm around Tsubasa’ waist, allowing the other to lean on him for support. They stand in the doorway. “You and I are above the petty distinctions,” Takizawa tells him: “all of the useless and filthy politics, the war, information, the law. Meaningless. You wanted to see the sky? Go on, take a look at eternity and tell me that anything that happens down here even matters.”
Tsubasa lifts his face to the stars. “Aren’t you tired of it, Tsubasa?” he exhales. “Yes.”
Takizawa’s throat aches. His eyes sting. This is not a moment of victory; this is a moment of empathy, of understanding, and of a solitude that is suddenly shared. Takizawa has waited for this moment for so long that it threatens to overwhelm him. He draws Tsubasa to him gently, putting his arms around him, and closes his eyes when the other hides his face against his shoulder.
This was how it should have been from the very start. Takizawa rubs warmth into Tsubasa’ naked back, the other man is still looking up to the starry sky and his face is slack.
Takizawa has taken the last of the fight out of the boy now, and left him empty, there is no longer any anger to fuel him for the fight, there is no fight for him to fight against anymore. Anger fueled the prisoner for the last 166 days, kept him from breaking but now it’s gone, smothered by the night, and the truth, and the universe, and Takizawa knows that Tsubasa needs something else instead, something to stop him from crumbling.
He pushes Tsubasa away gently, the boy’s face, illuminated by moonlight, is confused, a little hurt, abashed as he looks to him after having his attention taken away from the sky above, sent back into the reality of life. Takizawa steps forward and places each hand on either side of Tsubasa’ face, holding that face in his hands, tilting it towards him, then he kisses him.
Tsubasa’ mouth opens under the slight pressure that Takizawa exerts, his breath is warm, his cracked lips a little dry. Takizawa curls one hand around the back of Tsubasa’ neck while keeping the other on his cheek as he deepens the passionate kiss. The officer tries to tell him with every touch, because he knows that Tsubasa is still resistant to his words, Takizawa tries to tell him that he needs this, wants this, he values this, they both do. “I won’t let you go, Tsubasa.” Tsubasa only moans in response; it’s partially protest, partially assent to Takizawa’s claim.
Takizawa drops his hand from Tsubasa’ cheek, slides it between their bodies, and rubs his palm against the other’s hardening cock. It isn’t a surprise that the other man flinches from the contact, his lips still close to his though, it’s a warm huff of breath against his mouth. “Taki… Takizawa!” and then he freezes. Takizawa kisses him gently repeating the knowledge that he knows is true against the others lips as he looks deep into the other’s eyes lazily, both their eyes half closed from the touch of their lips “you’re not a vehicle repairman.” It is barely a whisper in the night: “No.”
The officer doesn’t step back, doesn’t break the contact of their bodies, he runs his mouth along Tsubasa’ jaw, tasting his way up toward his ear, enjoying the taste of the flesh on his tongue, enjoying the flesh of his rebel. “How long have you known who I am?” the other asks “a few days.” The breath shudders out of him. “It’s just a name,” Takizawa says, “just the name of a man.” “The bogeyman,” he laughs against the captive’s throat as he hears the given name. “The bogeyman?” “Hideaki Takizawa,” Tsubasa whispers. “Hideaki Takizawa can break anyone: he broke Nakai Masahiro, he broke me.” “Have I really?” Takizawa rubs his thumb over the head of Tsubasa’ cock, “is that really what happened here?” Tsubasa’ head falls back, his eyes closed. “I don’t fucking know.” “Yes, you do.”
Takizawa pulls away, and drops to his knees, he looks at the length of the other’s package before engulfing the head of the man’s cock with his mouth. Tsubasa yelps in surprise, flinches, and then sags back against the doorframe. He lifts his cuffed hands and rests his trembling fingers on Takizawa’s head, feeling the soft touch of the officer’s hair with his hands.
Tsubasa tastes good. Takizawa sweeps his tongue around the head of his cock, presses it into the slit, and feels Tsubasa jerk and shudder at the touch, he keeps one hand wrapped around what he doesn’t take in his mouth and puts his other on Tsubasa’ ass, setting his own pace, controlling the pleasure that the prisoner feels.
There is no science to this, no art. Tsubasa is hard and he hasn’t come in months, not a single time that the guards fucked him did he ever come, not a single time when Takizawa ‘touched’ him did he come, he hadn’t even come the night before when Takizawa took him for his own, when Takizawa claimed him as his. Its seconds rather than minutes before he cries out and floods the officer’s mouth with his hot cum. Crying out, and crying.
Takizawa kneels back and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, he rises to his feet and looks at the broken mess of a man that stands before him, he sees the tears that flow freely from Tsubasa’ eyes, he sees the tear streaks that run down his puffy cheeks, he hears the whimpers and sniffles that escape from him as he tries to keep quiet. Takizawa grabs the prisoner in his embrace, hugging him closely to his body and gentles him with touches and kisses. He can taste his salty tears and he folds him into his arms more, he kicks the door shut with his foot after dragging the other back into the room a couple of feet from the door.
“I have you,” he murmurs. “I have you, Tsubasa.”
The officer helps him limp back to bed and watches as Tsubasa lies on his side, facing his back so that Takizawa is behind him, and falls asleep still sniffling.
Takizawa listens to the broken breaths of the other until he dozes off soon after, when he wakes once he finds that he has rolled onto his back, and that Tsubasa has turned to face him with his head resting on Takizawa’s chest. He puts an arm around him, shushing him as the movement threatens to pull the other out of sleep, and then holds him close.
This is how it should have been from the start.
-----
Tsubasa has strange dreams: bold and unafraid. In them he is in his tent back when he was free from being a captive, fighting for the rebel side in the sixth battalion, he's laughing because everyone else is frightened. “Hideaki Takizawa is coming, Hideaki Takizawa is Coming, the monster from hell is on his way at last; the bogeyman will get you.” The sky-he can see the stars even through the canvas of the tent-is ablaze with stars, and with the Bombardment. Shells and mortars flower like fireworks, but Tsubasa is not afraid. A man grabs him by the throat, his hand is a claw, it is bloody and the flesh is peeling off his face, revealing the skull below. “Get down! You have to get down!”
Tsubasa ignores him and leaves the tent, finding himself under the spreading branches of a dying willow tree. The sound of the bombardment is gone, and Tsubasa can only hear the buzzing and clicking of insects, he no longer hears gunshots firing off, bombs descending to the ground before they obliterate everything in their path as they hit the floor. He is tired, he is happy, he settles into the grass, a warm body curled against his, and waits for Hideaki Takizawa to come.
-----
The sunlight shines bright in the sky above. Because of the lack of light that he’s seen in the last half year Tsubasa has to squint at it even from behind the sunglasses that Takizawa bought for him at the gas station once they had left the hotel soon after they had woken up from their short sleep after the whole blow job situation. The pair of sunglasses were dark shaded Ray-Ban Flat Tops but even with the sunglasses, even with the dark tinted windows of the car to add to that, it’s still too bright. Tsubasa wants to close his eyes because it hurts, but he also doesn’t want to miss the sunlight, the sunlight, and trees that flash past that he hasn’t seen in so long.
The pair of men have been on the road for quite some time now driving down rural roads where the edges of the bitumen crumble into the dust, and crows swoop to pick at the road kill. Tsubasa has stretched out his feet within the luxurious amount of space that the Lykan Hypersport car has to offer for him and he looks out the window counting the cars that drive by but there is very little traffic at this time. Tsubasa managed to pick out a bomber plane flying high above them even with his poor sight when he looked up once, it was silent and distant, heading to a frontline that Tsubasa can no longer find, to a war that he no longer feels real. He is still wearing the cuffs, but he feels no desire to run any longer, where would he go anyway if he did? This deep inside Government territory, where would he go? There is nothing left for him in Yokohama, if he could even make it that far, he knows nothing of Tokyo even though he's here and Japan isn’t even an option anymore for any war evader , well at least when Tsubasa had an ounce of knowledge about what was going on in the world around him it was, now he has no idea… did Japan even exist anymore? He wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest if it didn’t. The war for the Japan's control, Osaka had gone down long ago, even before Tsubasa had been captured, Fukuoka was still standing tall despite it being the neighboring to Osaka, from what Tsubasa had last heard before he was captured but he highly doubts that it was in the same condition now. Also for all the prisoner knew, Yokohama were the only remaining rebellion still standing in Japan and even now, were fighting against the Governor until one of them would be going down sooner or later.
Tsubasa thinks about how weary he has become, he’s only twenty-four, and he’s bone weary.
"You Okay?” Takizawa asks him as he glances to the side and sees Tsubasa in a deep trance of thought, and from what he can see judging off of Tsubasa’ expression, a thought that isn’t well. He reaches across and puts his hand on the man’s good knee although it is a stretch since he has to reach for the right leg rather than the left. “I don’t know” Tsubasa mumbles in reply, his head tilted against the window of the car to the point that his cheek is squished flat against it. How could Tsubasa know if he’s ok when he doesn’t know where he’s going or even understand what Takizawa wants from him, but he’s weary and he doesn’t hurt anymore. He doesn’t trust this man, but he doesn’t hate this man either. This confusing contradiction playing within him leaves him curiously empty, apathetic. Spinning in the wind. He doesn’t understand what happened last night. Doesn’t understand exactly when the line was crossed. A long time ago, probably. A long time before Takizawa fucked him then blew him in that hotel room.
“You’re Hideaki Takizawa, but if you didn’t break me, then what exactly happened?”
“His name is Morita,” he says at last. “The man you asked me about once. The one who’s not waiting. His name was Morita... Go Morita”
Takizawa doesn’t say anything. “He’s not dead.” Tsubasa goes on, feeling the need to clarify, because this is a war, and so many stories commonly end that way when there's a war. He thought his own would too. He thinks it still might. “He’s alive. He’s just not waiting for me” he sighs regretfully. “I would have,” Takizawa says.
A strange thing to take comfort in, maybe, but no stranger than anything that’s come before, and Tsubasa is tired of doubting every word that Takizawa utters, he’s tired of taking apart each sentence to try and ascertain the meaning behind it, of always looking for the unsprung trap. Maybe, for once, he doesn’t have to.
It doesn’t feel like a defeat.
A second bomber passes overhead, it’s closer to the ground this time so both Takizawa and himself can hear the humming of the propellers as it passes by. Tsubasa turns his face to look out the window, each mile that vanishes under the tread of the tires is a mile closer to an unknown destination. Tsubasa dozes a little, dreams a little, and the trees flash past.
Chapter 7