Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/ works/5818342. Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: Rape/Non-Con, Underage Category: M/M Fandom: カーストヘヴン_|_Caste_Heaven Relationship: Karino_Kouhei/Azusa_Yuuya Character: Azusa_Yuuya, Karino_Kouhei Additional Tags: Emotional/Psychological_Abuse, Light_Bondage, Choking, Biting, Face- Fucking, it's_caste_heaven_you_know_what_you're_getting_into Series: Part 2 of warning_label:_these_are_the_bad_things. Stats: Published: 2016-01-25 Words: 3156 ****** A Tarnished Crown for a Broken King ****** by distantattraction Summary Karino has done something to him. Really, Karino has done a lot of things to Azusa. He can’t remember all of them anymore, but Azusa’s got the marks to show for them. Notes koonutkalifee and i should never have been allowed to talk to each other about caste heaven we fucked each other up so badly caste heaven is a mistake that i can't stop making and i am so, so sorry. i'm really sorry. See the end of the work for more notes Karino has done something to him. Really, Karino has done a lot of things to Azusa. He can’t remember all of them anymore, but Azusa’s got the marks to show for them. He’s got perpetually bruised knees that go purple again before the green and yellow can fade. He’s got shoulders that are more flexible now than when he started. It strains his arms less to have them tied behind his back these days. Practice does make perfect after all. He can’t tell the difference between pleasure and pain anymore. They’re too tangled together in his memory and in his present. He doesn’t know if it feels better when it hurts, but he does know that when Karino is too gentle, time stretches. Everything takes too long. He doesn’t like it. It’s easier when it’s rough; he doesn’t have to think as much. What scares him is the fact that he’s gotten used to it. He’s gotten used to the feeling of a necktie binding his wrists together behind his back or above his head, used to the feeling of fingers around his throat, used to being used, and sometimes he forgets to fight back. When Azusa tells Karino that he will take back his throne, he means it as a promise. But every time, it sounds like a reminder, and Karino isn't the one it’s intended for.   Home should be safe because home is a place that Karino will never be, because no one with money or status would ever come here to buy his mother. But home has never felt safe for Azusa. Not since he figured out what his mother’s work is. Not since the first time one of her guests walked out and he found his mother bleeding on her bedroom floor. There’s nothing comforting about Azusa’s shitty, rundown little apartment. It smells of strange men as much as it smells like poverty, and that’s a scent that clung to his skin until he got his hands on the King card. But these days he comes home stinking of sex, and the realization hits him one day: this is the most he has ever suited his home. He comes home, and Karino isn’t there, and it should feel like gasping after holding your breath for too long, but Azusa just feels like he’s drowning.   He's never needed to ask his mother to help him bandage himself; Azusa hasn't fallen that far yet. He can patch himself up. If there's a scratch he can't reach, he leaves it exposed until he forgets it's there.   Azusa doesn’t pay attention to the way it starts anymore--or he forgets, or he makes himself forget so he doesn’t realize how formulaic it’s become, how routine. He walks away and Karino pulls him back because that’s his right now, because that’s what the King does, and Azusa knows it’s a matter of minutes before he leaves the room looking like the trash Karino tells him he is, the trash Karino is turning him into. But Azusa still has his pride. It’s duller now than it was a month ago, but it’s still his. And if he has to tuck it away in some corner of himself to protect it, to keep it, then so be it. He does what he has to. He always has.   Karino sits on the couch with his book in one hand and his other arm draped across Azusa’s shoulders. It would be intimate, except that Azusa is naked and Karino’s arm is keeping him pinned against his chest so Karino can feel him tremble. The low buzz of the vibrator is the only sound in the room besides the turning of pages; Azusa holds his lip between his teeth to keep himself silent. He can’t help but jump every time Karino spins the dial on the control and increases the vibration. Karino doesn’t laugh, but Azusa can see him smirking. He wants to bite off Karino’s tongue. Eventually, Karino puts his book down and lifts Azusa’s legs. Karino leaves the vibrator in when he fucks him, and Azusa hates it, but it feels good, so he hates himself. Today he surrenders to the hedonistic part of himself that likes the pleasure. He doesn’t do this a lot--it’s far too satisfying for Karino--but he’s tired and he wants to let his mind wander. When he does this, Azusa doesn’t need to think. Azusa misses power. He misses the throne. He misses before, back when he didn’t know what it feels like to be reminded that this is where he belongs. Karino pulls the vibrator out by its cord when he’s done, and it makes that sick, wet sound that Azusa hates on its way out. It’s covered in lube and Karino’s come, so he wipes it on Azusa’s inner thigh before he puts it away. Then he leaves. Azusa feels empty and cold when he’s alone, and he hates himself for that, too.   It doesn’t surprise Azusa when Karino binds his hands together, because he doesn’t remember the last time Karino fucked him without using his tie as a rope. It doesn’t surprise him when Karino kicks at the backs of his knees so that they bend and Azusa falls to the floor with a thud and a wince. It doesn’t surprise him when Karino kneels behind him and places his hands on the couch on either side of Azusa, leaning in close enough that Karino’s presence is all Azusa can feel. It feels like it will swallow him whole. It doesn’t surprise him because he’s not stupid enough to have hope when he’s with Karino anymore--except that he must be because he gasps like an idiot when Karino bites him. He leaves clean marks in Azusa’s shoulder. Azusa could probably count the teeth later, if he wanted to. He doesn’t want to. Karino bites him again, this time on the back of the neck, this time harder. Azusa cries out in pleasure or pain, he doesn’t know which anymore, he can’t tell the difference anymore, he can’t tell the difference. His breath stutters, and Karino must notice because he presses his lips to Azusa’s back, between his shoulder blades, and the kiss is almost soothing. Karino stands abruptly. Azusa hears him unbuckle his belt and tug the zipper of his pants down. He waits for the snap of a bottle of lube being opened, waits for Karino’s cold, slick fingers to push inside of him, but they don’t come. Instead, he hears Karino take a step back as his hand lands in Azusa’s hair. His bruised knees skid against the tile floor as Karino spins him around and drags him forward. Azusa keeps his lips pressed together, so the head of Karino’s cock glances against them. Karino doesn’t pause. He keeps pulling Azusa toward him until the length of his cock rests on Azusa’s face. Azusa can feel the heat of it, the weight of it, on his cheek and his closed eye. He looks up at Karino, and Karino looks down on him. “Open your mouth, Azusa.” “If I refuse?” There's a hard edge to his voice. It’s a relief; he’s glad he still has this. Of course, it doesn’t matter to Karino. “Targets don’t get to do that,” he says simply. He pinches Azusa’s nose closed. Azusa holds out for a while; he thinks it might even be worth it to pass out, just because Karino likes it so much more when he’s awake. But then he takes a gasping breath, and the taste of Karino fills his mouth. Azusa doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to this. He hopes he never gets used to it. It was bad enough when he had to press his tongue against Karino and pretend to try that day he hid the camera in his bag, but it’s so much worse when Karino wants it, even if Azusa doesn’t bother putting in the effort to suck him off. Part of him is thankful that Karino doesn’t often get the craving for face-fucking. The rest of him thrums with fury. Karino rocks his hips because he knows by now that that’s the only way he gets any movement out of this, and Azusa winces at the sensation of Karino’s cock sliding against his tongue. His jaw hurts already. “You're still terrible at this, aren't you, Azusa?” Karino says, sounding bored. “Maybe you should ask your mother for tips. I'm sure she knows plenty.” Azusa makes to pull back, growling, a threat already forming on his tongue, but Karino tugs at his hair, thrusting slowly and deliberately into his mouth. “I didn't say you could talk,” Karino says. There’s life in his voice now, the twisted fuck. He picks up the pace, and Azusa gags, choking on his cock. It doesn't faze Karino. He keeps going until Azusa shoves him away and immediately coughs. Karino gives him all of ten seconds before he grabs Azusa again, dragging him back into position. “I didn't say you could stop, either.” The pressure of Karino’s hand against the back of his neck keeps Azusa from moving anywhere Karino doesn't want him to be, and Karino wants Azusa with his nose touching Karino’s skin and Karino’s cock down his throat. Azusa can't breathe. He chokes and gags and Karino doesn't let go, and didn't passing out seem like a good option before? It doesn't feel like one now, but it's likely if Karino doesn't let him move. Azusa does the only thing he can think to do and bites down. Karino grunts above him, and Azusa’s head is spinning from lack of air, but he feels a flash of satisfaction that doesn't fade when Karino strikes him hard across the face. It’s not often that Azusa manages to get this sort of reaction from him. Karino likes to leave marks where only he will see them. Karino pulls Azusa to his feet and shoves him forward until his bare thighs bump against the arm of the couch. Karino presses his face into the cushions. It stinks of sweat and sex because Karino has fucked Azusa here more times than he can count, and it’s suffocating. He can’t breathe again, would like to pass out again, but he’s gotten so good at holding his breath. Karino fucks him raw. Karino has always fucked him raw. He can’t remember Karino ever bothering with condoms, and now Azusa wishes he hadn’t either, because he would love to pass some fucking disease onto Karino, but he can’t because he’s clean. Azusa supposes that this is one of the last kinds of clean he’s allowed to be. Azusa can tell from Karino’s breathing when he’s getting close, but Karino surprises him by pulling out instead of coming inside him the way he likes to. He doesn’t give Azusa much time to wonder about it because in a second he’s flipped Azusa around so that he’s eye-level with Karino’s cock. Karino comes onto Azusa’s face and in his hair. Azusa glares at him with semen on his eyelashes, and Karino laughs. He ruffles Azusa’s hair. It might have been affectionate, if they were different people. As it is, Azusa guesses from the wetness he feels on his scalp that Karino spread it into his hair. “See you in class.” Azusa considers not going, but the lunch break ends and the bell rings and he pulls his pants back on and leaves.   “It’d be better if you moaned like a bitch, you know,” Karino says. His tone is light, but his grip on Azusa’s hips is tight, and his thrusts are deep and unforgiving. Azusa grits his teeth and wills himself to be as silent as he knows how. He lays on his back with Karino between his legs, and the skin across his shoulder blades catches on the floor every time Karino pushes into him. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you how to please a man?” Karino asks. “Don’t fucking talk about my mother,” Azusa growls, but Karino just smiles at him. “It’s true, you’re a better whore than she is. It’s more fun to break you than to fuck someone who’s already broken.” Azusa digs his nails into the floor as hatred boils up in him. He’s furious and a part of him recognizes that this feels right, that hating Karino feels pure and clean and it could almost burn away some of the filth Karino’s smeared on him. He’s still got resistance in him, and that’s good, because Azusa doesn’t know what will happen to him if he gives up. “I’m willing to bet that you’ve got a prettier face, too,” Karino continues. He hasn’t stopped moving his hips, either. “But if you got your looks from her, I’d be willing to check her out. Maybe I can buy her for my father. It would be a great honor for her, I’m sure. She’s never fucked a minister before, has she?” Azusa moves without thinking. Karino catches his fist in his hand before Azusa even realizes he tried to punch him. Karino clicks his tongue at him. “Now now, little Target. It looks like you’ve forgotten your place.” He rolls Azusa over, and Azusa struggles, he swears he does, but Karino can throw him around like a doll. He ends up on his knees with his ass in the air and his face pressed to the floor. He bites back a whimper as Karino presses into him, but barely. Karino fucks him slowly. Azusa thinks Karino knows he hates it this way the most. It’s humiliating and it takes so long and Azusa hates him. He hates Karino so much that it’s all he can think about. The chorus of I’ll kill you I’ll kill you I’ll kill you is a roar in his head, and he hardly notices when he comes. Karino pushes him again, and Azusa is on his back with Karino’s hand pressing hard into his chest. Azusa unclenches his fists. He doesn’t know when his fingers curled inward, but he knows that they did it tightly enough to leave crescents in his palms. Karino stares at him for a second, and then he grabs Azusa’s chin. He licks Azusa’s lip before he kisses him, and Karino’s tongue tastes of blood when it slides into his mouth. Azusa hadn’t noticed biting through his lip, either.   Karino has fucked him in the same position--bent over a desk in the King’s room, with the hard edge digging into his stomach--three days in a row now. Today marks the fourth, and Karino must be getting bored of it because he’s being rougher than the previous days. Azusa’s head is still reeling from when Karino slammed his face into the desk, and his shoulders are starting to hurt from his arms being held behind his back. Azusa is getting better at learning what it feels like when Karino does something to him that will turn into a bruise when he’s alone; he can tell now that Karino is holding his wrists tightly enough to leave marks later. Azusa doesn’t like that Karino only needs one hand to hold both his wrists. It leaves the other hand free to wander, and Azusa doesn’t want Karino touching him any more than he can help. By the time Karino lets go of him, whatever class they had skipped this time-- Azusa thinks it was English--is over, and lunch is about to begin. Karino leaves him alone for once, waves at him with a smirk as Azusa leans over the desk waiting for strength to return to his legs. Azusa heads up to the roof for lunch. He doesn’t bother heading to the cafeteria first. He doesn’t have an appetite. Karino has fucked him over a desk four days in a row, he can feel Karino’s come starting to drip down his thigh now that he’s standing, and to top it all off, it’s raining. Azusa wonders idly if his day could get any worse. He knows that this is tempting fate, but the morbidly curious part of him wants to know how. He comes back to the classroom soaked through, shoes squelching against the floor because he hadn’t bothered to change them before he headed into the rain. He catches his classmates doing double-takes when they look at him, but he doesn’t give it much thought. Azusa is used to people looking at him like that. Azusa plays with his pen instead of taking notes. He’d just ruin his notebook, anyway. His wet sleeves are clinging to his arms, and it’s irritating. He leans back, not caring that his hair is dripping on the desk behind him. He’s never bothered with an undershirt before, so Azusa can see his skin through his soaked shirt. His nipples are bright against the pale of his chest; that would explain the hungry look Karino had had when he’d walked to his desk. There’s something else on his skin, something dark and low that shouldn’t be there. He presses at the spot gently and almost laughs out loud when it stings. It figures. Four days of bumping up against the edge of a desk, and he’s got a nice line of bruising to show for it. Seems he was the last to know, too. Azusa hopes Karino’s pissed about it; he doesn’t like to share, even if it’s just the view. Karino is, as it turns out, angry. He takes it out on Azusa the way he always does, and when he’s done, Azusa has to put his still-wet clothes back on so he can walk home.   In some ways, home is comfortable. He has a room with a door he can close so he can be alone. He doesn't have to come out until dinner. Really, he doesn't have to come out for dinner either, but the last time he did that was back in middle school and he knows his mother cried. He doesn't let the food go to waste anymore. He knows how much it costs. She still asks questions the way she always does, even though Azusa hasn’t given her a real answer in years. School is going fine, he says. I’m fine, he says. After all, no one can bully me anymore. It tastes bitter on his tongue and catches in his teeth and maybe it’s always been a lie, but he used to be so much better at believing it. She wishes Azusa a good night, and he wishes he could have one, but he can’t sleep and when he can his dreams are dark. He doesn’t remember any of them, but they linger at the edges of his memory and he knows that Karino is always there. His mother says “have a good day!” when he walks out the door in the morning, and Azusa doesn’t bother to respond. End Notes azusa needs help and so do i Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!