Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/13410027.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      Multi
  Fandom:
      Marvel_(Comics), X-Men_(Comicverse), X-Men_-_All_Media_Types
  Relationship:
      Daken_Akihiro/Romulus, Daken_Akihiro/Other(s), Daken_Akihiro/Lester_|
      Bullseye, Daken_Akihiro/Johnny_Storm
  Character:
      Daken_Akihiro, Logan_(X-Men), Romulus_(Marvel), Lester_|_Bullseye, Johnny
      Storm
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_Canon_Divergence, Earth-4214, Pedophilia, Sexual
      Abuse, Explicit_Sexual_Content, Torture, Emotional/Psychological_Abuse,
      Emotional_Manipulation, Grooming, Substance_Abuse, Canon-Typical
      Violence, Prostitution, Homophobia, Slurs, Sexual_Violence, Heavy_BDSM,
      Bad_BDSM_Etiquette, Backstory, Period-Typical_Racism, Implied/Referenced
      Suicide
  Series:
      Part 1 of Change_the_Game
  Stats:
      Published: 2018-01-18 Updated: 2018-03-16 Chapters: 22/? Words: 19383
****** Bleed the life from me ******
by Finnlay
Summary
     Everything comes with a price. And sometimes, the currency to pay
     with isn't money but blood, tears and bodies. Daken learns to live by
     that concept when he's still a child. All that he knows without a
     doubt in his mind is that everything started in blood and that it
     will eventually end in blood. It's the one constant in his life, the
     one truth that hasn't betrayed him.
     [A closer look at the things that shaped Daken to be the person that
     he is.]
     Further warnings at the beginning of each Chapter!
Notes
     Warnings: Period-typical Racism, Contemplated Murder
     Visit_my_Tumblr
***** Junichiro *****
So small. Fragile. Vulnerable.
Akihiro stood there next to the crib and stared down on his little brother.
Junichiro. Adoptive brother, he reminded himself in his thoughts as he watched
the boy sleep. The only source of light in the room was the light of the full
moon shining in from the window but Akihiro had found that these days his eyes
seemed to adjust more readily to the dark.
The boys chest raised and fell with each breath. Tiny hands curling and
uncurling, legs twitching. This was not the first baby that Akihiro had ever
seen, not by far, and yet he felt differently watching Junichiro than he had
ever felt seeing any other newborn.
This child was everything that his mother wanted. Of her own blood, innocent
and full of promise. A new life filled with endless possibility. Of pure
heritage, born in wedlock. Not like him. Nothing like him. Nothing like him at
all.
Akihiro was no fool. He understood what people said about him, what their
hushed whispers and stolen glances meant. The name they used for him when his
Father was nowhere to be seen. The sharp insults, the little lies and the
rumors. Some true, others not.
He reached out with one hand, stroked fingertips over one rosy, plumb cheek.
Skin as pale and unblemished as ivory, raven hair and a pair of honey colored
eyes. Junichiro was everything that he was not. His own coloring looked foreign
against the ivory. Akihiro had heard people describe the color of his skin as
muddy and dirty. Once, as a younger child, he had scrubbed himself raw to the
point of breaking skin in hopes of washing the color away. He remembered his
mother’s horrified expression and his father’s questions about it. Akihiro had
no answered them, stubbornly choosing to remain silent. Mother had once told
him to not speak to father about the things the children said because it would
upset him. Akihiro had stuck to the promise without failure.
Pulling his hand back he leaned heavily on the crib and tried to feel anything
for this infant. Anything other than anger. Akihiro wanted to love his brother,
wanted to be good to him and be there as Junichiro grew up. He wanted to teach
him, play with him, explain the world and maybe sometimes be teasing and a
little mean – like he had seen other siblings be with each other. He wanted it.
He wanted to be normal. But Akihiro knew he was not like everyone else and not
just because his skin was darker and his eyes were blue like the sky after a
storm. He was different because he did not feel like others did.
Most of his life Akihiro felt nothing. A state of indifference and disconnect
from the world. It was these times that he buried his nose inside a book and
dreamed of other worlds, places, people and experiences. And when he did feel
things it was more often than not anger and frustration. At all the things he
didn’t have and all the questions left unanswered.
Why had his parents abandoned him? Who were they? Why had they not wanted him?
Were they alive? And if they were, why couldn’t they at least have left a note
with him when they dropped him off at the residence of his adoptive family.
Akihiro knew the talks about that too. About how his father must have been an
American soldier. What he might have done to his mother and how that would have
made abandoning him the only option. Sometimes Akihiro dreams of it. Of a young
woman with hair as black as charcoal and skin like ivory. Of the man with cruel
blue eyes and rough, big hands holding her down as she cried and struggled.
These dreams always woke him up in the middle of the night with a startle.
If there was even a sliver of truth to that story than he hoped with all of his
heart that his mother was happy now. Married to someone who treated her with
all the respect and love she deserved. Maybe she even had another child now,
one that she had wanted. One with the man that she loved. Akihiro did not
believe in many things but he liked to believe that this was true. And he liked
to believe that in turn, his biological father was burning in hell for
dishonoring a woman in such a way.
The infant shifted in his sleep and Akihiro snapped out of his thoughts. This
was his brother. Small, fragile and vulnerable. It would have been so easy to
just wrap his hands around that delicate throat and squeeze until the life left
that little body. Easier than when Akihiro had done the same with the boy
months ago. His hands hovered over the sleeping child but with the next little
shift of his brother, he drew away again.
No. Not like this. Not now.
His biological mother had not wanted him. His adoptive mother could not love
him. Both of them were right. He was not worthy of the love of a mother. And
because he could not seem to make anyone love him other than his father, he
would take love away from this child.
Just not tonight. Not in this way.
Stroking one rosy cheek once more he pulled away from the crib and returned to
his own room.
Not tonight. But soon.
***** Daken *****
Chapter Notes
     Warnings: Implied/Referenced murder, explicit self harm,
     psychological trauma, beginning PTSD
     Visit_my_Tumblr
Look deep into the shadows, and there you will find me. I am what you will
become.
-SNIKT!-
The sound seemed to echo in the silence of the room. For the length of a
heartbeat, Akihiro almost expected someone to hear and come into the small room
he had been given. No one came. There was only silence again. Silence and the
flickering of the candle light.
Drawing in a deep breath he held up his hand and studied them. These things
that seemed to be a part of him. Akihiro -
“I renounce you as my son. No longer shall you have the name Akihiro.”
The words sounded in his head and he gritted his teeth against the sickening
taste of bile on the back of his tongue. He was not going to throw up. He was
not weak. And his name was Daken. Not Akihiro. He was Daken.
And he had claws. Like an animal. Three of them in fact. In both hands. Two of
them emerged from the back of his hand, long and black. The third came through
the skin below his wrist. Same color, same length. All of them glistened in the
flickering light of the candle.
Where did they come from? Why did he have them? How had he not know they were
there for eleven years of his life? And what were they even made of?
Tracing the fingertips of his other hand over the surface he hissed and drew
back. Blood. A cut - no. It just healed. As if nothing had happened.
That was the other thing that Daken had to learn today - he was unable to be
hurt permanently. His mother - no, the woman that had pretended to be his
mother, she had run him through with a bayonet and he had just walked away from
it. There was no wound, no scar.
How far did this ability go? Daken wondered if this meant that he could not
die. Not over an injury at least. What if he broke a limb? Would it heal? Could
he cut off his hand and have it grow back? What about an injury to his brain?
There they were once more - the million question he had no one for to ask. It
always came down to him being left with questions and no answers.
Flexing his left hand he popped the claws there as well and then withdrew all
of them at once. He could control them. Curious now, Daken tried to just pop
one of them and after a few painful tries he figured out how to do that. This
was just like learning any other skill he had ever been taught.
After a moment of contemplation he stood up, took off his clothes and then sat
back down. Daken had questions and he needed answers. If there was no one to
ask, and he was not going to try asking that man, then he had to find the
answers in a different manner.
Touching the sharp tip of his claw to the soft flesh of his other arm Daken
breathed in deeply and then made a deep, quick cut. Blood dripped to the floor
and his breathing hitched. It hurt. It hurt so bad. Daken gritted his teeth but
refused to make a sound past the heavy breathing.
Looking at the wound he watched with wide eyes as it slowly started to knit
itself back together. This was insane. Unreal. It was not human.
I am not human.
I am what you will become.
Daken brought the claw back to his skin and tried to push the image of that man
out of his mind. Maybe he was not human. Maybe he was some sort of … demon. But
he was not like that man.
Or was he?
The scent of blood was thick and heavy in the air and yet Daken could not stop.
Each cut felt like a reminder that he was indeed still alive. Inside he felt
nothing but his body still experienced pain.
Daken gasped and tried to forget the sight of his little baby brother looking
up at him with these big eyes. Tried to forget how his hands had shaken as he
tried to wrap them around that vulnerable throat. Tried to forget leaving the
vulnerable infant behind on the steps of another families house instead. Like
he had been left.
His ‘mothers’ anger had been so thick he could taste it. Desperation, loss,
anger, fear. And then burning bright hatred. For him. She had been disgusted by
him and he had been thankful for it because at least that emotion was real. She
had finally felt something for him.
But then - Daken shook his head and angrily dug deeper into his own flesh.
His father. The only person that had ever seemed to truly love him. He had
turned on him. Had taken away his name. And she had tried to take his life but
Daken took hers instead.
That blood was on his hands. It would never wash away. And the wound inside of
him, it did not heal like the wounds on the outside.
I am what you will become.
The man that had come after his parents were both dead, he had been
frightening. Larger than any other human being Daken had ever laid his eyes
upon. And there had been something about him which made the hairs on the back
of his neck stand up.
But he had nowhere else to go. No one would take him in. No one. There was no
choice in the way he had followed that man. It had been pure self preservation.
Or had it been?
Daken lied down with a gasp and closed his eyes. There was blood everywhere but
he didn’t care. Exhaustion had kicked in hard and he was not sure he would find
any rest if he did not take advantage of that.
I am what you will become.
The thought circled in his mind and Daken fell asleep with something resembling
a smile on his lips. If becoming like that man meant things would stop hurting
on the inside than Daken was fine with it.
I will become what you are.
***** Learning process *****
Chapter Notes
     Warnings: Implied/Referenced child abuse
     Visit_my_Tumblr
War was a pointless thing.
Daken sat on the floor in the small hut and quietly ate his lunch as shots
sounded in the distance and people screamed. Children’s voices between the ones
of grown man and woman. His senses let him pick up the scent of blood and
gunpowder. Of bile, urine and human excrement.
It had been a long time since Daken found himself disturbed by any of it.
Romulus had taken him to this strange country eight weeks ago and most things
had stopped affecting him within two. Daken had learned that if he did not
adapt quick enough to please his Master, there were consequences.
Everything in the world had a price. Not all of them were paid in money. Some
were paid with blood. More of them probably. At least in this country it seemed
that way.
This hot, damned country. Central Africa. The Republic of Congo. Cuvette-Ouest
province. Somewhere near the town of Etoumbi. Or so Daken had been told by the
locals. He did not speak much French yet but he was learning fast and he was
using his skills to learn more.
Master usually seemed pleased with that. Daken figured that keeping him in that
state was the best he could do. The skill that he had learned first from
Romulus was to take pain and survive it. There was a difference between staying
alive and surviving which Daken had to learn as well. His ability kept him
alive but if he broke on the inside, there was no healing that.
Most days now he just stayed quiet and observed. It was clear that while he was
special, Master did not exactly care for him any more than his adoptive mother
had. And yet, at very odd times Romulus would do things that left Daken
wondering if he was misinterpreting the other actions.
The same hand that brought the hard leather of a belt down onto his back would
ruffle his hair. The voice that told him he was bad would turn warmer and tell
him that he was making Master proud.
Daken could learn a language. He could learn how to fight. How to use a gun.
How to kill. These were all just skill that were acquired with persistence. But
he had no idea where to get the knowledge on whether or not he was
understanding Master’s intentions and actions the right way. There was such a
disconnect between the two sides he had seen that Daken could barely make
himself believe that it was the same person doing these things.
Romulus was just a man. Daken tried to tell himself that again and again but no
matter how much he repeated it, his mind refused to accept it as the truth.
Long hair, overgrown teeth, sharp claw like nails and a stature so wide and
large that he seemed to tower over everyone. Daken wanted to believe Master was
just a man but he wasn’t. He was different.
He was the dragon. That large golden statue back in Japan. The one that had
frightened and fascinated him at the same time. Father had called it a symbol
of power. Master was powerful. And frightening. And fascinating. All at once in
this conflicting and terrible twist of emotions.
But the dragon had not been real. It had not been able to move. It could not
hurt him. Master could. Master did. And there was no one to turn to. No one he
could tell. No one who would care.
Then again, Daken was not sure he had ever had someone who cared. Who would
have listened. His Father had always been oblivious to the things the other
children did to him. And in the end, he had turned his back as well.
There was no one to rely on. No one to trust. He was alone. Alone in a country
he did not know, surrounded by people who looked completely foreign to him, and
stuck with only a single person to turn to at all. Master. Romulus.
Daken stood up after finishing his meal and as he cleaned the plate and washed
the other dishes, he thought himself that he was going to learn faster. If he
ever wanted to leave than he needed to be able to care for himself and in this
world that required skills he did not have yet.
He would learn. He would grown. And he would try not to break in the process.
***** Fate *****
Chapter Notes
     Warnings: Child Abuse, Pedophilia, Emotional/Psychological Abuse,
     Sexual Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Rape
     Visit_my_Tumblr
Canada was a strange country.
Daken stood by the window and watched the snow fall from the sky. The world
outside was wrapped into a white, cold blanket. It looked like something out of
a picture book. Or perhaps a postcard.
Africa had been dry, hot and full of sand. Daken thought of things like spices,
colors, music and people with deep, rich skin tones when he thought of Africa.
He also thought of blood, gunpowder and the taste of bile.
Canada was not half as interesting. It made him think of pine trees, snow, ice
and the sickly sweet taste of maple syrup. There was no war in Canada but there
did not need to be one for blood, gunpowder and the taste of bile. All three
followed him from Japan to Africa and then all the way to Canada.
Daken turned away from the window and sat back down on his desk. He was
supposed to be studying, not watching frozen water fall from the sky. Master
had given him a series of books to read and Daken found that he enjoyed the
first one quite a bit.
Reading books at least beat having to train with Cyber. That man frightened
him. Daken knew he was not meant to be afraid of anything but that was
impossible. Try as he might, there were things that scared him. Above all the
man that had given him this book in his hands but also Cyber and the thought of
being left behind. Daken did not speak of the things that scared him but he
knew that Master knew either way. Somehow Master always knew.
The sound of the door opening got his attention but it was the scent which
nearly made Daken drop his book. Romulus. Master. Before he could force himself
to turn around and greet his Master, that deep, throaty voice sounded.
“Boy, bring me some wine.”
Daken stood up immediately, bowed his head briefly and did as he was told.
Romulus sat down on the couch in the corner of the room and took off these
gloves with their long, sharp claws. Unlike him, Romulus did not have claws
built in. Daken sometimes wondered about that and the gloves but he never dared
to ask.
Coming back with a bottle of red wine and a glass he held them out but Master
only took the bottle. Of course he did. Daken was not sure why he bothered to
bring a glass at this point but it seemed like the polite thing to do.
“Welcome back, Master.” Why are you here again? Daken wanted to ask. Why can’t
you stay away and leave me be?
“Cyber informed me that you have been giving him a hard time, boy.”
“I - … yes Master. I am sorry.” Daken looked down and tried not to feel
anything. If he did -
“You are still far too open with your emotions. Anger. Resent. Fear.” Steel
colored eyes looked at him with disappointment, “You must learn not to indulge
your feelings. More importantly, not to project them onto others—not without
reason. Not without control.”
That word again. Daken had started to loath it. Control. Master always spoke of
it as if it were the only thing in the world that mattered. It reminded him of
how the servants back in Japan had spoken of money. Or how religious people
seemed to speak about their Gods.
“Look at me, boy.”
Daken gritted his teeth and swallowed. He tried to avoid looking directly at
Romulus out of respect. And fear. And something that Daken is not sure how to
name. A feeling inside his stomach that was hot and cold at once. It made him
feel small and insignificant.
Looking up at his Master he stood there, the glass still in hand and suddenly
aware of just how small he was in comparison to this man. If Romulus stood,
Daken would barely reach to about the height at which the mans navel sat. How
someone this massive could move in the shadows as silently as a cat would never
make sense to him.
“I have left you here in Canada so that you might learn and grow. This was a
present, boy. And yet you are making it difficult for Cyber and for the other
teachers here. Do you not appreciate my generosity?”
It felt like a slap to the face. Daken forgot to breathe for a moment and then
he struggled to answer, “No Master, I am grateful -”
“You are scared. There is no gratefulness in you, boy. You are simply terrified
of me and of what I might do to you if you displease me.”
Yes, he wanted to scream it and every instinct told him to run. To hide. Or to
fight if he could not get away. Daken did none of it. He just went perfectly
still when that large hand cupped his chin.
“Why have I send you here?”
“To … to train, Master.”
“Why do you need to be trained?”
“So that I might grow and become capable of inheriting your kingdom …?”
“You still make it a question rather than a statement, boy.”
The second hand went up into his hair and then he was pulled forward, closer to
Romulus. Sweat, dirt, leather and something that Daken had come to associate
with men but which he had no word for. All these scents filled his senses and
he felt the urge to struggle once more. He did not dare try.
“We make sacrifices for the things that we want, boy. Everything has a price
and you have not been paying yours for what you are given.”
The fingers in his hair tightened and then let go all at once. Daken almost
fell on his ass but he managed to regain balance after a second. He had
embarrassed himself enough for one day.
“Strip.”
Daken stared up at Romulus and after a second of confusion he asked,
unbelieving, “What?” He was almost sure that he deserved the harsh slap across
his cheek for the question.
“Don’t question me, boy. Take your clothes off, all of them. Now.”
Run. The voice in his head told him. Run now. Run and don’t stop running. It
was tempting. Daken almost let himself contemplate it but he knew better.
Romulus looked slow and heavy but he wasn’t. If Daken tried to run, he would be
caught.
Stepping back he started to strip silently. The way Master was watching sent a
shiver down his spine and made him feel less like a person and more like an
object. It was similar to how the other adult men in the camp looked at the few
women that were around. They smelled the same as Romulus did too. What is this?
Why is he looking at me like they look at women?
Daken left his clothing in a neat pile on the coffee table and just stood
there. Nothing had ever made him feel as vulnerable as he felt in that moment.
Was Master going to punish him for being ungrateful? But why would that require
him to be bare?
“Mh.” These gray eyes studied him as if he were some sort of good on the
market, something to be rated before purchase. “At least you seem to have taken
good care of your body. Not that same soft, spoiled brat anymore.”
Daken did not move. He resisted the urge to look down on himself. He knew what
he looked like. Knew that there were hints of muscles starting to show and that
whatever childish leftovers of baby fat had still been there when Romulus first
found him were all gone. He was leaner, taller and fitter. And still only
twelve years old.
The rustling of clothing snapped him out of his thoughts and then Daken stood
there with wide eyes, staring at -
“Come here, boy.”
“No.” His voice sounded far away and Daken felt sick with fear. He had just
told Master no. The price for that would be higher than anything else he had
ever paid for. He took a step back but the hand in his hair was back and a
second later he was down on his knees and Romulus was towering over him.
“You ungrateful, stubborn boy. You will learn and you will obey.”
Large hands hauled him off the ground and then he found himself bend over the
small kitchen table. His feet barely touch the floor from how high he has been
pushed up and Daken scratched at the wooden surface trying for purchase.
“This could have been easier on you but you always have to make things
unnecessarily difficult. Everything has a price, boy and I am taking my payment
if you are too stubborn to give it freely.”
Daken gasped as these sharp claw like nails dug into his skin and he didn’t
understand what was happening but he understood that it would hurt and that he
didn’t want this. That it wasn’t right. No words would come to his lips though,
he couldn’t think a straight thought with the world painted red from panic and
fear.
One of these hands left his waist and pushed his thighs apart, unbalancing him
even further. It mattered none because a second later he felt pain like nothing
else had ever hurt before. He screamed and the claws dug through his skin
without thought but he couldn’t fight. All it took was one hand from Romulus
holding him down.
“Take it, boy. You were made to take it and you will learn to enjoy it.”
Teeth dug into his shoulder as the heavy weight of his Master pinned him to the
table. Daken felt the blood dripping down his thighs, he felt his body trying
to heal only to be ripped apart further as that thing pushed into him.
In, out, in, out. Nails and teeth digging into skin, heavy breathing, whispered
nonsense. Daken lied there, having gone still and unresponsive. The world was
filled with nothing but pain and it didn’t matter if he begged and cried,
Master only seemed to enjoy himself more when he did.
For the first time Daken realized that it had no effect if he obeyed, if he did
as told or if he struggled and fought. Everything had a price and the price he
paid for being raised by this man was his body.
Romulus had told him that it was his fate to one day inherit the Kingdom that
Romulus himself had build. As Daken heard the man grunting above him he thought
of the book he had been reading and a quote that had stuck,
“Do not be afraid; our fate cannot be taken from us; it is a gift.”
Dante Alighieri's Inferno
If this was his fate than Daken failed to see what part of it was supposed to
be a gift. This was hell and he was living in it.
***** Clean *****
Chapter Notes
     Warnings: Rape aftermath, Child Abuse, Pedophilia, Abuse, Emotional/
     Psychological Abuse, Sexual Abuse, Emotional Manipulation
     Visit_my_Tumblr
It burned. Daken sat on the floor of the shower, eyes closed and arms wrapped
around his knees. The water raining down from above was scalding hot and yet it
did nothing to wash away the filth.
Romulus had left after hours of … of it. Daken was still not sure what word to
use for what had happened to him.
He was not an idiot, he knew of sex. In theory. The soldiers here spoke of it
and in some strange manner that was what had happened. Daken just wasn't sure
if this was what the adults had meant. They never seemed to speak of the
unbearable pain it inflicted or the sickening feeling of filth that it left
behind. But they did speak of … of the act of inserting a penis into an
opening. They just used quite different words for it than Daken choose.
It had been sex but not. Why did he not have a proper word for this experience?
Why had it happened? What had Romulus gotten out of this? Daken just didn't
understand and it made him want to scream.
He had screamed. At first. His body healed and then Romulus would split him
apart again. Daken sobbed and screamed, he begged and struggled. Until his
voice broke, the tears stopped and everything started to fall away. It was like
he had gone somewhere else. Daken didn't remember how he had done it but for a
while, he felt nothing. Then it had stopped and he came back to being wrapped
into heavy arms.
Romulus had held him all night and Daken had just lied there quietly, accepting
it. There had been no fight left in him. No will to fight. No will to try and
run. By morning light, Master left.
That had been an hour ago. Daken had run to the bathroom as soon as the door
closed and emptied his stomach into the toilet. Romulus had made him take it
into his mouth and the taste lingered even after throwing up and brushing his
teeth repeatedly. Then Daken had gotten into the shower and tried to scrub
himself clean. But no matter how hard he scrubbed, the feeling of being dirty
would not leave him. Even after the blood and that dried white stuff was gone,
he still felt it clinging to his skin.
The stench of it was still there. Mingled between Romulus scent, the smell of
sweat and copper and bile. Daken had thrown up during it too and it had enraged
his Master. The price for it had been claws digging into his throat and opening
him up to bleed. Daken had healed of course but for a few horrifying moments he
had been unable to breath and it had felt as if he would die.
Oh heaven, he wished he had died. Death sounded sweet and merciful.
Before leaving Romulus had told him he would be back the same time next week -
to train him. Daken never wanted to be trained again in his life.
“How much are you willing to sacrifice to stay with me, boy?”
Romulus had asked him that when they had first arrived in Africa. Daken had
been such a fool. He had said everything without knowing what that meant.
Without understanding that everything included his will to live. If death would
come to him now, Daken would greet it with a smile.
Death would not come.
Perhaps it never would. Romulus had torn him apart from the inside and then
continued to cut him open on the outside as well. There had been so, so much
blood. Everywhere. On the kitchen table, on the floor, on the bed sheets, the
mattress, the pillows, the covers. Daken was not sure that a single human could
even have this much blood in them but he had. And he was still breathing.
Face it. You will not die. You cannot escape. You would not even know where to
go. This is your life, this is your fate. You will be whatever he wants you to
be.
Pushing off the floor he turned the water off and stepped out of the shower.
The water was not able to help, it was just a waste of resources. Daken reached
for one of the soft towels and dried himself quickly, not willing to look at
his body. There was not a single sign left from what Master had done but in his
mind, all the cuts were still there.
Daken managed to somehow get himself dressed, his hair in order and the bedroom
cleaned. It all seemed to happen on instinct. There was no thought behind it.
Things needed to be clean again and this were his quarters so he had to clean
them. The kitchen followed and then he returned to the bathroom to clean up
there too.
Only once the scent of blood was gone did he sit down on the floor with his
book in hand. Perhaps, if he learned enough, if he worked hard, if he did
everything he could to appease Master -
Do not fool yourself. He will be back and he will repeat today. Accept it.
Learn from it. Don’t fool yourself.
Daken opened the book.
I am what you will become.
I will never be what you are.
***** Natural gift *****
Chapter Notes
     Warnings: Child Abuse, Pedophilia, Abuse, Emotional/Psychological
     Abuse, Sexual Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Oral Sex, Rape, Planned
     Murder, Grooming
     Visit_my_Tumblr
“Good boy.”
The hand in his hair gave a sharp tug and Daken glanced up at his Master.
Things had gone from terrifying to normal quicker than he thought they should.
It was not that he wanted any of it but rather that Daken had made some sort of
odd peace with his situation. There was not much else he could do.
Master rolled his hips and Daken nearly choked but he welcomed that. It meant
this was almost over - and then it was. Swallowing he sat back and tried not to
throw up over the floor again. Try as he might, he could not get used to that
taste. Or the thick stickiness of it.
“Mh, you do learn fast but you still lack skill and that displeased expression
is unacceptable.” Romulus pushed his fingers through that silky, black hair.
“I’m sorry Master.” The words happened without thought. It used to mean
something but now it was just a phrase he uttered in a tone that made it sound
honest and real even when he felt nothing.
“You are not but that’s of no concern today.” Petting Daken’s cheek he smiled
and then stood up from the couch, pulling his pants back into place. “You have
learned all that you can learn here, boy. This facility and the men who run it
have outlived their usefulness to me. Burn it from the face of the earth. Leave
no man alive.”
Daken blinked and then frowned. What did that mean? He had learned everything
he could here? Was Master just going to drop him at the next place? Do I even
want to know? Probably not.
“As you command, Master.”
“Good. You have so much potential, boy. It would be a waste to simply train you
in combat.”
“Is this about … ah, about the pheromones, Master?” Romulus had brought the
topic up a few times but never fully explained what this meant. Daken only knew
that it apparently was one of the things he had been born with.
"Yes.” Romulus nodded and calmly sat back down to drink from his glass of wine.
“Have you ever noticed that you have the ability to alter people's moods? To
make them feel as you feel?"
"No, but I heard my ... mother say something about it, once." At the same time
as she had confessed that she could not love him. Daken would never forget that
conversation he had eavesdropped on.
"Just as your body must be trained, so too must your mind. Eventually you will
be able to make others feel as you want them to, rather than only how you,
yourself, feel. You will be able to cast fear into your enemies. And you will
be able to mask your true intention by lulling your enemies into a false sense
of security."
Daken listened quietly and tried to imagine having the ability to actively
influence people. Would that work even on Romulus? Could he make his Master act
as he wished instead of Master controlling him? The thought intrigued him and
suddenly the prospect of moving on and getting a different kind of training did
no longer sound that bad.
"We are wolves, Daken. But you shall wear sheep's clothing. You will hide in
plain sight, a smile in place to hide the real you."
“Yes Master.”
“However, I have told you before that you cannot simply rely on your gift.
There will always be people who are immune to it or situations where it won’t
be enough. You will have to learn to take advantage of your other nature given
assets.”
Daken blinked and the confusion apparently was obvious enough for Romulus to
chuckle. That big hand touched his cheek and stroked over his skin.
“Your beauty, your intelligence. Your body.”
A cold shiver ran down his spine at that but Daken refused to let himself
flinch. Somehow he had always known that this would happen. Even though he
still struggled to understand why people seemed to want sex so very badly. All
it was to him was a painful, dirty annoyance.
“Finish your mission here within the next three days. I will send someone to
pick you up and bring you to your next location. Understood, boy?”
“Yes Master. Thank you.”
Warm lips pressed against his and Daken simply surrendered to the kiss. Kissing
was odd. It was nowhere near as confusing to him as sex though.
“Good boy.”
Romulus ruffled his hair with one hand and then walked out of the door, leaving
Daken in the silence of his room. Who would teach things like charm and
manipulation? Fighting, Daken understood. That was something that people
taught. He was not sure what to expect.
None of it mattered for now either way. Daken had been given a mission and he
had three days to complete it. Every living, breathing person in this camp had
to die. Preferably with as little actual fighting as possible. A clean job was
a good job.
Daken intended to please his Master.
***** Susan *****
Chapter Notes
     Warnings: Child Abuse, Murder, Grooming, Prostitution*
     [*No, not Daken. Don't worry, zero child prostitution in this.]
     Visit_my_Tumblr
The silence in the room felt suffocating. Daken stood over the lifeless body
and for one second he almost started to laugh. Then reality kicked back in and
he hastily withdrew his claws from the man’s body before pushing it over and
off the bed.
“Are - are you okay?”
Susan blinked slowly and glanced down on herself. There was blood splattered
across her skin but it was not her own. It had happened so quickly she was
still not sure she had fully processed it. Romulus had told her that this young
boy was good and dangerous but she had never expected this.
“You killed him.”
“I - he was … hurting you!”
“Oh sweet child. Yes, yes he was but such is the nature of my job.” With a soft
sigh she sat up and gestured, “Hand me my robe please.”
Daken moved right away, retrieving the satin robe from the chair, he held it
out to his tutor. “I’m sorry I got all that blood on you.”
“Blood is of no concern, boy. It’s more of a problem that I have a corpse in my
bedroom now. You do know that this is generally bad for business, killing
customers?”
Daken gritted his teeth and looked away, “You were in pain and distress.  I
could smell it.”
“Yes but he could not. Daken, darling, this is a job. My job. I get paid for
the pain and annoyance of letting filthy men have their way with my body.”
“There are other jobs!”
For a teenager who had gone through what Susan knew would have been unspeakable
abuse already, Daken was oddly empathic. Romulus had a type and this young boy
did not fit into it. There was something off about him, no doubt but between
the anger and bursts of temperament, Daken was a thoughtful and clever
teenager.
“Not for everyone. Not for an uneducated single mother. Reality is not kind, it
will never be kind. Not to you, not to me, not to anyone.” Sitting down she
patted the mattress next to her and then wrapped one arm around Daken. The boy
stiffened for a moment but then relaxed into her touch, leaning against her.
“I cannot have you kill my John’s like this just because I feel a little
distress. You have to promise me, Daken. No more of that, yes?”
“But -”
“No. It was my own choice to let this man have me. For money. A choice is a
choice. If you ever hear me begging for it to stop, then you may stab my
customer but only then. Understood?”
Looking down on his own hands Daken swallowed and then nodded slowly, “Yes
Ma’am.”
“Good. I will not tell your Master what happened but we’ll need to do something
about the body.”
“Master will know. He knows everything.”
Susan nodded slowly, that was true. Daken was smarter than he had any right to
be for a fourteen year old boy. “Yes, but I will tell him you saved my life.”
“You will lie? He can smell a lie.”
“Not if you believe, truly believe, your lie is the absolute truth.”
Blue eyes narrowed and Daken asked slowly, “Do you really think that is true?
If I were to lie to him I would just need to believe my own lie?”
“Oh sweetheart, you could do much better than that. He smells a lie and you can
control your own scent.”
His eyes went wide as that message sunk in and Daken suddenly felt like he
should stab himself for having missed the obvious. Of course he could - how
stupid of him to never consider that an option.
“Come boy, let’s see if I cannot teach you another practical skill. The one to
dispose of a body.” Stroking a hand over Daken’s cheek she smiled and stood up.
Of all the young ones Romulus has brought her over the years, Susan liked this
one the most. What a shame that he would lose all of the things which made him
likeable right now. He had to. Being Romulus play thing came with a price much
higher than simply suffering through a bit of distress and pain. It would cost
this boy his humanity.
***** Lie *****
Chapter Notes
     Warnings: Implied/Referenced Rape, Child Abuse, Pedophilia,
     Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Sexual Abuse, Emotional Manipulation,
     Grooming, Implied/Referenced Self Harm, Implied/Referenced Torture,
     Masochism, Murder, thoughts of self mutilation
     Visit_my_Tumblr
Bloodshot eyes closed as he turned his head up, letting the water run over his
face. It burned but in that almost pleasant way which helped him forget for a
moment why he was standing under the hot stream again. There was just the
water, the heat and nothing else.
His eyes opened again only when he grew tired of standing still. Daken shifted
and noted that the water flushing down the drain was still tinted red with
blood. His body healed but that did not mean he didn’t bleed.
Daken grabbed for the sponge with shaky hands and started to scrub at himself.
Blood, urine, cum. It all washed away and down the drain. There were never
signs left behind on the outside after being punished and used by his Master.
The damage that stayed with him was on the inside, hidden beneath unblemished
skin.
Pain. Blood. Punishment. These things  had become a constant in his life. They
almost felt like companions these days.
Whenever a few days passed without any pain, without punishment, Daken found
ways to inflict it on himself. Either directly or through willing disobedience
to set himself up for punishment. Master seemed to know when he was being
disobedient on purpose but that never stopped him from punishing Daken.
Sometimes it felt as if his Master was encouraging his behavior.
What happened today had been unintentional. Daken had not been looking to be
punished but it still had been his fault that he was. If he had just kept his
mouth shut -
Gritting his teeth he tried to push the memories aside but they wrapped around
his neck like a pair of heavy hands. There was no fighting the way it
overwhelmed him.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-----------
“What?”
The question seemed to hang in the air like the blade of a guillotine above the
neck of a guilty man. Daken felt the weight of anticipation tighten his chest.
“Are you questioning me, boy?”
“N-no, Master! I just … I thought that having trustworthy people to work with
is important. I am trying to understand why she is no longer useful?”
Believe your own lie. Daken reminded himself as he spoke and his voice had
grown confident towards the end of his question.
“She knows too much. There comes a point where an ally becomes a liability. You
are special, Daken. Your existence needs to stay hidden for now.”
“But she won't talk!” Daken said the words and immediately knew that he had
ruined his cover up. Master's expression changed from mildly annoyed to anger
and in response Daken wanted to drop onto his knees to apologize.
“Kill her, boy. Now. Or I will and I believe you know what that would mean.”
Daken shut his eyes for a moment and then turned around, claws slicing through
skin as he approached the cowering woman. Master would do unspeakable things
before he'd end her life and Daken could not bear to watch that.
The cut was deep and quick. There was a little noise but then the lifeless body
dropped to the floor. Susan had grown into something like a mother figure to
him and now she was dead. Just one more body without life and meaning littering
the path that his life had taken.
“You lied.” Master's voice cut through the silence and Daken swallowed thickly.
“It was a clever one but not clever enough, boy. And you know the price for
lying.”
Oh he did. Daken knew the punishment for a lot of things now. Lying was
certainly not the worst but it was up there. Master wanted him to lie but in
such a way that it did not get found out. And it was not Master himself whom
Daken was supposed to lie to.
Without a word he slid down onto his knees.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-----------
“No.” Sharp pain ran through him as he punched the wall hard enough to damage
bones and break skin. It would all heal in a matter of minutes but for the
moment it helped focus him on something, anything other than it.
One would assume  that after four years he would have become used to it. He had
not reached that point yet though. If he was honest with himself, and Daken
rarely ever was, he hoped to never reach that point. It tasted of defeat when
he thought about it. But maybe there was no avoiding it. Not if what had
happened this time said anything about the future.
Daken glanced down on himself and in a moment of almost childish anger he
wondered if cutting off a body part would mean it grew back or if it would just
heal over. Daken had never tried that. Would it hurt to regrow something? It
was an  interesting question but not one he was sure he wanted an answer for.
If his penis would just grow back the whole thing would be a pointless effort.
Master had been delighted. Daken had never felt so humiliated and confused in
his life. The things that he had started to experience as Master was pushing
into him, had brought tears to his eyes. And then he had been hard, like Master
was and Daken had for the first time tried to struggle and get away. Lashing
out with his claws popped and his teeth bared.
It just ended with him face down on the floor, still being used, while Master
laughed and said filthy things that turned Daken’s stomach and brought heat to
his cheeks. And then there had been a hand around him and -
“No.” He said it again and this time he pushed himself to stop thinking and
start acting instead. Daken refused to get stuck on the memories. Nothing would
come out of that. Nothing but pain anyway.
Daken turned the water off and stepped out of the shower. He needed to find
distraction. The memories would haunt his dreams tonight and there was nothing
he could do about that but as long as he was awake, Daken intended to do
whatever was necessary to stop himself from thinking about what had happened
today.
***** Japan *****
Chapter Notes
     Warnings: Implied/Referenced Torture
     Visit_my_Tumblr
The soft breeze of cool air against his heated skin was an odd but welcome
sensation. It was summer and the heat of the sun was like a kiss. Welcome and
unwanted at the same time. Part of him craved to go crawl into the cool shadow
of the building while the other wanted to arch up into the warmth.
Daken lied on the front porch of the cottage, one hand hanging off the side to
dip fingertips into the cool water of a clean river while the rest of him baked
in the sun. After spending several years in Canada, being back in Japan was -
odd.
It was only made stranger by the fact that he did not know the purpose of their
visit here. Romulus had been secretive and abrasive on the matter and Daken
knew better than to push too much. He had certain privileges these days but
that did not imply he could simply act as he wished.
Opening his eyes Daken stared up into the blue sky above and wondered quietly
what would come next. As far as he was concerned, there was not much left for
him to learn. The only thing that would make him better now was experience and
that was something to gain, not to learn.
It had been a week since he turned eighteen and while free time could be nice,
occasionally, he was starting to feel bored now. No training, no missions,
nothing. Just endless waiting and the boredom of silence. At least in Canada
there had always been someone around. Here on this mountain retreat, there was
no one. Just him and some  forest creatures.
Romulus had left three days ago, saying something about being back soon enough.
Clearly Daken’s view on ‘soon enough’ and his Master’s weren’t the same. Three
days alone was at least one day too long. He missed his Master.
With a soft huff Daken stood up and grabbed for his shirt before heading out of
the cottage. The little village was about thirty minutes away and he was
getting entirely too bored to not give in and at least take a look around. He
had not been forbidden to leave the retreat so might as well do something with
his free time.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-
Something ended up being mostly snacks and the occasional little flirt with a
blushing young girl. Daken had found that he enjoyed flirting casually. There
was something about the way people smelled when they felt complimented and
intrigued which he liked. It was also the easiest way to make someone feel
relaxed and trusting without having to rely on his secondary ability.
Passing through the streets of the little village he watched the people go
about their business while enjoying his treat. There was nothing else in any of
the countries he had been to which he liked as much as Dango. Chocolate was
nice but nowhere near as tasty as the little balls made of rice flour. Perhaps
it was nostalgia but even if it was, Daken still indulged himself.
The sun had started to set when he spotted a little shop at the side of the
street. A tattoo shop. Pausing he stared at the sign in the window with
different tattoo’s displayed on it. Could he even, just in theory, get a
tattoo? Would his ability to heal just erase it in a matter of hours? Was a
tattoo something that would be considered an injury?
Daken absently finished his treat and then traced the scar tissue on his
shoulder. Romulus had used some kind of thick, foul smelling paste to punish
him for a direct refusal of an order. The scars had not disappeared even a good
six month after. Would a tattoo cover them?
Pushing aside any doubt on this being a good idea, Daken stepped into the shop.
To hell with responsibility. Romulus had left him on his own for three days.
Time to use the chance to do something stupid and irresponsible. At worst he
would get a beating for it. And if he was very lucky, Master would actually
like it.
***** Please *****
Chapter Notes
     Warnings: Implied/Referenced Murder, Implied/Referenced Rape, Dubious
     Consent, Grooming
     Visit_my_Tumblr
Sand. Dirt. Heat.
Daken huffed as he threw the piece of clothing aside and pinned down the note
with a combat knife. The stench of blood and urine in the room was revolting
and yet almost comforting in its familiarity. Not so much the mix of hot
weather and sandy, dry air. Daken felt reminded of his time in Africa whenever
there was too much dry heat.
In the process of turning around he froze when that deep, low voice spoke.
"You have done well, Daken."
A small smile spread on his lips at the praise and he did turn around then but
the words of thankfulness never sounded.
"Even your father would be impressed."
"My - ?" Daken could not make himself say the word. It tasted of blood and
bitterness, turning his stomach at the mere thought. Hisfather, the man that
had raped his mother. The reason why Daken had no real family.
"He lives, you know."
The words made his heart skip a beat and the pound loudly in his chest. A wash
of anger, confusion and something Daken preferred not to name rolled through
him. "I ... assumed he was dead, Master."
"And he, you." Romulus stepped out of the shadows and approached his clearly
distressed boy. No matter how much Daken grew, to him he stayed a boy. Foolish
and simple. Easy to manipulate with just the smallest bit of effort. "He killed
your mother, Daken. With you in her belly."
His lips curled into a smile at the angry tell tale sound of SNIKT. Daken was
upset, angry, desperate. All the beautiful little things that would drive the
boy further towards him. "Do you want to know why?"
Reaching out slowly he put a hand on Daken’s cheek and stroked the smooth, warm
skin.  "Because he was afraid of what you would become. He was afraid of me."
Daken stood there, claws out and teeth bared. It had been one thing to believe
that his father was some american soldier who had defiled a japanese woman.
Daken had told himself that his father had to be dead. It had set his mind at
ease for years. Now he knew better.
His father was alive and he had killed Daken’s mother. The thought rang in his
mind and suddenly there were a million more questions. How had he survived his
mother’s death? The healing ability possibly but how did he get from her …
remains to the step of his adoptive families house? Daken wanted to ask these
questions but no sound would come. There was too much desperate anger inside
him.
Why haven’t you told me sooner? Daken bit his tongue. He could not ask that.
Master always had a reason to withhold information and there was no reason to
doubt him. All these years, as much as Daken had suffered under Romulus, it had
always been for his own good.
Looking up at his Master he blinked and then grabbed the man’s shirt, claws
withdrawing as Daken pulled him down into a kiss. There was nothing to do with
all that anger. He could not kill his father right now because there was little
chance that he was anywhere close by. So Daken poured it into the kiss instead,
moaning when big hands slid down his back and grabbed his ass.
“Master …” His voice shook with lust and anger, “Use me, please? I need to
forget.” I need to feel loved. Worthy. Special.
“My boy. Always. You know I am who takes care of you.”
Daken gasped at the sharp pain of claws dragging along his back, opening paths
on his skin which let blood flow. “Yes, yes please -”
“On your knees, show me just how much you need it.”
Without another word Daken dropped down on his knees and reached to open the
black pants his Master wore. Anything. Everything. Just as long as Master would
help him to stop thinking.
***** Colors *****
Chapter Notes
     Warnings: Implied/Referenced Murder
     Comics: Daken: Dark Wolverine #01
     Visit_Finnlay's_Tumblr
It was him.
Daken leaned against the tree, hands in the pockets of his coat, eyes following
the stumbling man. An odd sense of satisfaction filled him as the drunk fool
slipped and fell, covering himself in mud.
That was him.
This pathetic excuse of a man was hisFather. The person that Daken had gotten
one half of his genes from. The man that was responsible for the healing
factor, the enhanced sense and the claws in his hands. Daken had done his
research and what he had read seemed to taste of lies now.
The stench of alcohol, blood and self loathing filled the air all the way up to
his little hiding spot. That man down there struggling to get back on his feet,
was nothing like he expected James Howlett to be. Almost nothing like expected
at least.
Daken could not deny that he was noticing a certain resemblance between his
Father and himself. The color of their skin was the same and Daken now knew
that it had indeed been his Father who gave him these bright blue eyes. That
was about where the resemblance ended though. Daken had none of the features of
his Father. Not the strong jaw or the shape of that nose, none of the excessive
body hair or the short stature. It filled him with a pleasant sense of pride
that all they shared were skin and eye color.I am not what you are. You are not
what I am.
What little Daken had been able to gather on this man, had spoken of military
history. Of things such as bravery and skill. What his eyes saw in this moment
was nothing like the stories.
That man crawling into his car and trying to ignore the sobbing, outraged woman
- that man was nothing but a drunken, pathetic waste of air. There was no
skill, no grace, no cunning. His oh so praised Father had not even seemed to
pick up on the fact that someone wanted to put a bullet in his head.
No, this was not what Daken had expected and in an odd response to his
expectations being crushed, he stopped the sniper. One hand gently but
instantly pushing the gun down.
“No.” His voice cut through the air, “Not now. Not like this.” Meeting the eyes
of the sniper he smiled, “You have time.” Daken crouched down, one hand on the
man’s shoulder, “We both do.”
The car drove off and Daken, for the first time since Romulus told him his
Father was alive, felt as if he did not need to hunt the man. If they were
meant to meet, if he was given the chance to kill his Father, Daken would. But
this man was not worthy of his obsession.
There were other things that demanded his attention. Daken left the man with
the sniper rifle behind and turned back, wandering through the forest towards
his own car parked down on the road. Romulus was waiting outside of it for him,
a smile on these thin lips.
“So, did that satisfy your curiosity boy?”
“More or less. He was not … what I expected.”
“Are people ever what we expect them to be?”
Master had a point there. Daken shrugged and got into the car, waiting for
Romulus to settle in as well before he answered properly. “No, not usually. But
he is still the person that killed my Mother.”
“And you still intend to make him pay for that.”
“Sooner or later. I see no point in fighting a drunk, sad man though. Perhaps
he does the world a favor and just dies on his own.”
“Doubtful.”
“Yes but not impossible.” Daken looked at his Master, “Where to now, Master?”
Anywhere was fine with him. Anywhere else but here where the scent of his
Father still lingered. One day he would find the man again and end it. Today
wasn’t that day.
***** Father *****
Chapter Notes
     Warnings: Canon compliant violence
     Comics: Wolverine: Origins #10
     Visit_my_Tumblr
The door creaked as he pushed it open. Daken did not care. No one was left
inside the building but his target and him. There was no point in stealth
anymore.
This moment had been coming for a long, long time. That day by the bar where he
had seen this man for the first time had been burned into his memories. Daken
had chosen not to attack on that day because there was something not right
about killing someone who was so drunk they could not walk without falling face
first into the mud. Later, Daken had been upset with himself for not ending it
when he had the chance.
Daken looked at the tied up man and their eyes met for a brief second before he
pulled off his helmet and threw it aside. He intended to face this man without
a mask in the way. This was his father. This was the man that had killed his
mother in hopes of killing him. One would think that a killer would have done a
better job.
A killer. That was all his father was. And yet people celebrated him as a hero.
It was that which had caused him to regret his decision. Seeing ‘Wolverine’ for
the first time. A name, a costume, a team and suddenly a murderer turned into a
superhero. Hero. What a pathetic word and concept.
Wolverine. The good guy. Daken did not believe in the concept of good and evil.
In the end, all humans simply strived to get the best in life for themselves
first. Who decided what was good and what was bad anyway? People did. Therefore
the concept in itself was flawed.
How did they say it in this language? Something like ‘every villain is the hero
of their own story’. Daken wondered if that made his father the villain to him
and him the villain to his father. Did it matter? No.
What did matter was the look of utter confusion and shock on Logan’s face.
Daken savored it for a moment but then he noticed the tears. Tears.
The smirk turned into a snarl and he popped his claws. How dare this bastard
cry at the sight of him? How dare he make that kind of expression and cry?
Daken felt reminded of what Romulus had told him about his father. Of the
little stories. They had all led to the same conclusion for him.
His claws cut through skin and muscles as easily as a hot knife through butter.
Daken felt an odd sense of satisfaction watching the blood and organs spill
out.
“He was right about you.” Daken took a step back, “You are weak.”
You are nothing. You weren’t worth coming here but I’ll get my revenge. You’ll
pay.
“We’ll meet again. Dad.”
The panicked beeping of the monitors was a pleasant background noise to leave
the room with. His father would survive, he would heal and escape this place
with little effort. This was not where Wolverine would die. It would have been
too easy to kill a man tied down. Daken had different, better, plans for how
his dear father would meet his end.
***** Lesson *****
Chapter Notes
     Warnings: Torture, Psychological Torture, Abuse, Emotional/
     Psychological Abuse, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Manipulation
     Comics referenced: Wolverine: Origins #15
     Reading suggestion: Wolverine: Origins #11-15
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“Begin!”
It always hurt - the first hit. Daken was used to it though and he just gritted
his teeth and glared at Victor. Not that the blind, deaf idiot would even
notice. Wild Child did however and Daken regretted to have shown any kind of
reaction immediately.
“You think you're so special ... that you're better than everybody else. But
deep down you're just a wild animal, chewin' at the bars of his cage. Just like
me. An' just like your father.”
His hands flexed and Daken had to fight down the urge to simply murder both of
them. He could have. The problem was that the price for that was not something
he wanted to pay.
“No, I ... I'm not -” Daken bit his tongue. There was no way he was going to
give this loser the satisfaction of struggling for an explanation.
“Prove it!”
The next hit drew blood and Daken closed his eyes once more. Breath. Stay calm.
It’s just pain.
---------------------------------------------------------------
It felt as if hours had passed. Daken was barely staying on his knees now and
his breathing came in sharp little huffs. Victor never tired of this, he was
just entirely unaffected. But Kyle - Daken could smell arousal from him. It
made him want to throw up.
"Tell him …” His voice sounded shaky and Daken hated himself for it, “Tell him
that ... I've learned my lesson."
"No. You haven't. Stay away from your father."
"But he -"
"Stay away -” The rope cut into his back again and the pain came so sudden that
Daken could not stop himself from making a sound. “- from him until he's done
doin' what our Master wants him to do!"
The pain continued and Daken almost, just for a second, considered obeying. It
would mean no more of this but it would also mean he could not continue
pursuing revenge.
---------------------------------------------------------------
“Stupid kid.”
Daken woke up with a startled sound. It took him a second to orientate himself.
Someone had moved him from the bloody floor to a bunk bed in the back of the
train. How long ago he wasn’t sure. At some point the pain had overwhelmed him
and he had apparently passed out.
“Stupid kid.”
That line. These words. They kept running through his mind on an endless loop.
Like a broken record. It was not that they had any important significance
themselves, it was about who had said them.
Logan. Wolverine. His Father.
The only words that had sounded from Logan. The only words Daken had allowed
him to get out. And they stuck like spit out gum to the sidewalk. Facing off
against Logan had been different from how Daken always imagined it would be.
Mostly because it had left him with a sense of dread rather than satisfaction.
It was like that moment at the bar all over again.
Logan was nothing like Daken expected. Not back then, not now. The tears had
unsettled him. Why would the man that had wanted him dead before he had even
been born cry at seeing him? And not frustrated tears either. No, Logan had
smelled of regret and surprise and dread.
Who was his Father really as a person? Daken wanted answers. All his life he
had wanted answers for questions he could not ask anyone. This though? He could
find out the truth on this question.
With gritted teeth and the taste of blood still lingering on his tongue, Daken
decided that for a chance at revenge, he was willing to take whatever beating
Romulus ordered. Even if his Master himself would come to punish him. It would
be worth it.
***** Visitor *****
Chapter Notes
     Warnings: None
     Comics referenced: Kim is a character briefly introduced in Death of
     Wolverine: The Logan Legacy #5
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Shutting the door behind himself Daken put the key on the little side table and
then froze. A scent. Someone was here. Someone was in his apartment.
Quietly he slid his claws out and breathed the scent in once more. There was
something familiar about it but Daken could not quite place it. An old memory -
“Hello Hiro.”
His eyes went wide and Daken stood there staring at the man. He’s older. Ha,
right. Normal people age and you haven’t seen him in … more than ten years.
“Kim.” Pulling the claws back Daken cocked his head, “What are you doing in my
home?”
“Romulus sent me with a mission for you.”
There was a long pause and then Daken dismissively snorted, “You don’t even
work for him anymore. Last I heard you decided to join Hydra.”
“Ah, sometimes you are indeed a little bit naive still.” Kim shook his head and
chuckled softly. It had been a long time since he saw Akihiro but not much had
changed. “I joined Hydra on his orders, Hiro. You should know best just how
much our dear Master obsesses over power. He does not fancy sharing it with
anyone or anything.”
“You are a mole.”
“Quite correct, yes. Hydra, Romulus - all the same. I don’t particularly care
who pays my bills as long as they are paid.”
“You’ve always been rather practical about life.”
Kim smiled a little. The easy banter was still there and Akihiro seemed to
relax now. At least judging by the way he was shedding his coat and taking off
these fancy boots of his.
“As have you.”
They stood there just looking at each other silently. It seemed to stretch on
for an eternity and just when Kim had enough of it, Akihiro acted.
A pair of warm lips pressed against his and Kim almost wanted to laugh. Twelve
years had passed and yet they were right back where they had left off. Sliding
his hands up into that silky black hair he kissed back with the same feverish
want.
To think this man had been more of a shy boy that first time - it almost felt
like a joke. A fake memory. It wasn’t.
Akihiro, Daken, had made a name for himself long before they met and Kim had
never expected to find that everything they said of Romulus favorite was true.
And wrong at the same time. Lies wrapped in truth. Buried deep down where no
one could reach without permission, Akihiro was an oddly gentle and thoughtful
person. Kim knew that knowing this was a privilege.
“For old times sake then?” The chuckle that got him reassured Kim that there
was still some truth to it. Akihiro had certainly changed but at the core, he
was still the same.
“For old times sake.”
***** Stuck *****
Chapter Notes
     Warnings: Implied/Referenced Grooming
     Comics referenced: Death of Wolverine: The Logan Legacy #5
     Visit_my_Tumblr
Humans were such odd creatures.
Daken stood by the large windows and watched the streets below. It was past
midnight and yet the city was filled with lights and people. The difference
just a few decades made sometimes still had him pause and contemplate just how
odd the world had to feel to someone who had been around for thousands of
years. For someone like his Master.
Taking a sip from his cup of oolong tea he sighed and looked back towards the
bed. Kim was still there, sleeping peacefully. One night had turned into two,
three - a week. Two weeks. Daken knew how dangerous this was and yet he
struggled to do the smart thing and kick the other man out. There was just
something so comforting about not being alone.
Perhaps it was a left over from when he’d be around Romulus basically twenty
four hours, seven days a week. Or maybe it was just a sign that he was still
human, despite all the attempts to beat that out of him. Humans were social
beings who craved the company and attention of others. Except for psychopaths
of course but even they wanted validation and therefore needed human contact.
Daken emptied his cup, set it aside and then slid silently back under the
covers. Sleep was not going to come to him tonight but there was no real point
in sitting around and staring at Kim as if that would reveal the true meaning
of life to him. It wouldn’t.
“Mmh.”
Daken arched a brow at the little sound and then he was looking into a pair of
hazel eyes, “Can’t sleep?”
Kim’s question drew a chuckle from him, “You could say that.”
“Do you ever sleep? I feel like you haven’t slept for a full night since I got
here.”
“Define what a full night means to you.”
Kim rolled his eyes, turned over and wrapped his arms around Akihiro, “At least
six hours, better eight.”
“I haven’t slept for more than three in years … if we aren’t counting passing
out or sleeping through recovery at least.” The easy familiarity between them
was exactly why Daken was struggling to let go. And yet he still curled up and
let himself be held like the idiot that he was.
“Nightmares? Or just that mind of yours which never seems to want to quiet
down?”
“Both.” Shrugging Daken leaned into fingers that were running through his hair.
“You know …” Kim started, “This will make me sound like a hypocrite but … you
could leave, Hiro. You are not stuck being Romulus’ -”
“Don’t.” Daken warned, voice sharp and eyes cold, “Don’t go there. Don’t ever
go there, Kim. You don’t even know half of it. I love him. I am his out of my
own free will.”
There was a pause as they looked at each other. Kim had known, in some way,
that Akihiro was deeply conditioned and twisted but the extent of it had never
hit him as clear as it did right then. Free will and Romulus could not exist in
the same sentence unless it was about how that man took people's choices away.
A part of him wanted to say that. He wanted to point out that a child groomed
for decades could not even really make a choice but Kim knew that Akihiro was
not above violence when upset. And so he didn’t go down that road. Instead he
decided to be a coward and much later he would find himself regretting that
decision.
“I am sorry. I didn’t mean to -”
“In the morning, I want you to leave.” Pulling away Daken got out of the bed
and slid on his robe. He didn’t wait for response, just left the bedroom. Of
course I am not stuck. I want to be with him. I want to work for him. I need
him. I love him.
***** Master & Servant *****
Chapter Notes
     Warnings: Rape, Torture, Psychological Torture, Abuse, Emotional/
     Psychological Abuse, Sexual Abuse, Emotional Manipulation,
     Conditioning
      
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I want to be with him. I want to work for him. I need him. I love him.
Daken clung to these thoughts desperately and with everything he had. It was
the only thing that still kept him silent as these sharp claws dug back into
him, tearing at flesh that had just reformed. There was nothing that hurt more
than having the same spot torn over and over and over, every time without the
chance to full heal. Master knew exactly when to dig back into him to cause the
most pain and agony. There was nothing about him which Master did not know.
Tears were streaming down his face and he was soaked in blood, urine and cum.
The room smelled of copper so heavily that breathing had started to become
difficult. And yet - Master kept thrusting into him, deliberately rubbing along
all the places where it felt good and made him want to beg.
Daken could not beg. He could not speak. There was a gag between his lips and
while noise would make it past, words would not. Master wanted to hear no
apologies, no begging, no confessions of love and need. Master was angry with
him.
Claws dug into his hips when Master reached for them to get better leverage to
thrust as Daken’s body attempted to knit together what had been torn too much.
The small shift was enough to make him break silence and cry out, cock dripping
and throbbing.
“No.” Romulus growled lowly and slapped that needy cock hard, “No. You will not
come boy. You are not allowed to. You will obey.”
Please Master, please please please - I’ll be good, I’ll be good! I love you, I
love you, I love you -
 
------
Daken lied on the bed, inside his own blood. Motionless except for the rise and
fall of his chest. It had been almost thirty minutes and Master had not once
looked at him or spoken. Not since he decided he was done using Daken. There
was nothing that sat worse with him than being ignored by his Master but Daken
knew he had earned the punishment.
Kim had been gone in the morning. That was a week ago. Daken had not been able
to get ahold of Romulus any earlier than that. But the moment he did, Daken
admitted his little secret affair. He had to. Master trusted him and he had
broken that trust. For someone who thought he could twist his mind and make him
think badly of his Master.
“Daken.”
The way Master said his name turned his stomach. But at least there was talking
now. Without hesitation he looked over at his Master, showing he was paying
attention. I can be good. I can make it up to you Master. Please don’t leave
me.
"Tell me why you needed to be disciplined, Daken."
“I disobeyed, Master. I had a mission and instead of putting my sole focus on
it, I - … I let someone touch me.” A raised brow made him lick his lips and
correct himself, “I let someone else fuck me.”
“And?”
And? Daken blinked. What else had he done wrong? It took a moment to click and
then he went white with fear. That was why. It had never been about the sex.
“Answer me, boy.”
“I … I made contact with Wolverine when I was explicitly forbidden to do so,
Master.”
Romulus nodded and reached out to gently stroke one of Daken’s cheeks, “That is
right, my boy. Do you understand why such behavior has to be corrected?”
“I am to be your hire. I have to be fit for the position. I cannot act like an
animal.”
“Are you an animal, Daken?”
“No, Master.”
The soothing touch turned into a painful grip on his hair and Romulus dragged
him close, “Then why do you act like one? Why do you force me to correct you,
boy? I loath to hurt you when all I’d like to do is to give you pleasure and
praise.”
"I am sorry Master. I am sorry. I am sorry. Please Master, please. I cannot - I
need you. Master, Master I love you, please ..."
A satisfied looked settled on Romulus face and he nodded slowly, “Of course you
do, boy.”
The touch turned gentle again and then he felt Romulus hand run down his body.
Along the chest, over his stomach and -
“Please!” It was a desperate moan. Master was stroking him. It felt so good. So
good. Daken had not been allowed to come. A punishment was a punishment but he
needed this badly. More than air.
“Hush, boy. I will always take care of you.”
Daken whimpered and squirmed. The strokes were light and slow. It was not
enough. It was not enough! Hurt me, hurt me - I need to hurt, Master please
please ...
“You will come like this boy or you will not come at all.”
Another whimper and then he was panting and trying to focus on the touch which
wasn’t enough but was all he deserved. It did not take long after he accepted
that but the orgasm barely felt like one. It was nothing like what Kim had
coaxed from him -
No, no, no! Stop. Stop thinking of him. Master. You belong to Master. You are
his. You want to be his. You love him. You love him!
Sobbing he clung to Romulus and whispered desperately, “Sorry, ‘m sorry. So
sorry Master, please … forgive me Master Please. I love you.”
“Shh, hush.” These strong arms wrapped around him and Daken cried harder and he
was held and his hair was stroked. Master. Master would always take care of
him. Always.
***** Mongrel *****
Chapter Notes
     Warnings: Implied/Referenced Murder
     Comics: Wolverine Origins: #26 - 28, X-Men Original Sin, X-men Legacy
     #217
     Visit_my_Tumblr
Flipping to the next page he scanned it and then paused. There.
Mongrel
ˈmʌŋɡr(ə)l/
noun
noun: mongrel; plural noun: mongrels
1. A dog of no definable type or breed.
2. Cross-bred, mixed-breed, half-breed, hybrid
3. A person of mixed descent
For a moment he just sat there in silence and then angrily put the book down.
So he did remember right what that word meant. His name literally translated to
mongrel which in turn was nothing more than a word for a dirty, worthless mix
of dogs. He was named to remind him of his heritage with every single time he
got called on.
There was another pause and then he pushed off the bed and approached to mirror
in the corner of the room he was occupying. It was not hard to see that the
word fit. His features were asians but his skin color, the blue shade of his
eyes - that was from whichever parent had not been Japanese. I wonder which was
which? I wonder why they hated me so much they gave me such a name.
Tracing a hand over his own cheek he sighed and then held it out, the claws
sliding from beneath the skin. These. Where did they come from? And how was he
so incredibly adapted at using them to slaughter human beings? The man back in
the cave, they started hurting him and then - it had happened so fast. The ease
and confidence with which he had murdered them all was terrifying.
And yet thinking back to it send some sort of shiver down his spine and made
him feel exhilarated. In the moment, he had positively been turned on. Confused
and disoriented but also aroused. Like a goddamn animal.
That was what he was. An animal. Some sort of lesser creature with a lack of
filter for the most basic of instincts. That was why his name was Daken and why
he had claws. It was the reason for that sick excitement that came with
smelling blood and being hurt. No human would act like that. Humans were
supposed to be civilized.
Nothing about what he felt was civilized.Nothing about his thoughts and his
ability to fight was civilized. He was just an animal in a human shape.
He seemed to speak several languages, to learn things quickly, understand logic
and reason and he had the ability to read people like open books. But none of
that made him more human. It just meant he was apparently well adapted to
appearing human.
What an odd thought. What an odd concept. But all about Mutants sounded strange
to him. Maybe because he didn’t trust Shaw or the woman the smallest bit. The
other man, the one with claws like him - he had trusted him even less though.
Trust no one. The thought had been one of the first he had while sitting in the
car with Logan. He was starting to think that was the way to go. None of the
people he met so far felt in any shape of form safe. He was going to get out of
here in the morning and find somewhere else to wait for the memories to come
back. And if they didn’t - he’d make new ones. Far, far away from these people.
***** Truth *****
Chapter Summary
     Warnings: Self-Harm, Self-hatred, Identity Issues
     Comics: X-Men Legacy #218, Wolverine Origins #30
     Visit_myTumblr
The fire was dying when Daken woke up with a startled and a silent scream. His
heart raced, his breathing came in ragged, small gasps. Logan barely stirred in
his sleep.
Sleep. Logan had fallen asleep. The dumbass had fallen asleep on watch like the
ancient old man he was. Daken struggled to his feet and dragged himself away
from their camp, stomach revolting and turning from the memories that had
invaded his dreams.
As he heaved, one hand passing over his mouth, Daken tried to tell himself that
everything was fine. That there was no reason to be in a state of distress like
this. It tasted more bitter than the bile itself. Now he was even lying to
himself.
It was a lie. Everything was a lie.
His entire life was built on lies. Romulus had lied to him from the moment they
met and Daken had been so young, so innocent still that he believed. Oh he had
believed it all. Every lie, every half truth, every manipulation and every
whispered nonsense.
“All things come with a price and some debts aren’t paid with money.”
Daken bit his lip to swallow down a laugh. The first lesson. The worst lesson.
Words that had been burned into very soul. They smelled of blood, cum and
urine. They tasted like ash and vomit. Words that meant everything and nothing
and that kept him on an invisible leash which would cut into his skin like the
edge of a blade if he dared try to ignore them.
Sliding down onto the ground he glanced over to the fire. Logan had not moved
an inch and he didn’t even as Daken popped his claws. The old fucker was out
like a light. Pulling his sleeve up he touched the sharp edge to the skin and
bit down on his tongue to muffle any sound. The pain was like a bittersweet
companion and oh, he needed something that felt realright now.
"Because he was afraid of what you would become. He was afraid of me."
Lies. Lies. All of it just lies. Daken had fueled his rage and hatred for his
biological father for over thirty years and all of it had been a lie. Logan had
not killed his mother. It had been - Romulus. Romulus had killed her. Had
ordered it.  Why? Why?Questions again. It always came back to questions with no
answers.
“I am what you will become.”
More lies, more questions. What was the point of any of it when he had just
been some sort of throw away pet project? Why groom him, why spend so much time
on it when it was all just a lie? What was it about Logan which made him so
special?
“Here.”
Daken flinched and turned to glare at Logan who was offering a bottle of water
to him. Reaching for it he looked away while taking a sip. Daken could feel
those blue eyes glancing at the healing cuts along his arm. He waited for the
comment but it did not come. “Go back to sleep old man.”
“I wasn’t sleeping.”
Oh. Of course not. That explained the complete lack of movement. Logan had just
been playing possum. Daken took another sip and spit the water out. It did
nothing to make the taste of bile, blood and ash go away. “What do you want?”
“Nothing.”
“Ha.” Daken chuckled and nodded, “Sure. Nothing. No one ever just wants
nothingfrom me.”
“I ain’t everybody else you’ve met.”

Daken gave his ‘Father’ a silent look  as the man returned back to the warmth
of the fire. No, you’re not. But I’m not sure you aren’t worse than everybody
else.
***** Catharsis *****
Chapter Notes
     Warnings: Violence, Dubious Consent, Abuse, Pheromones, Oral Sex,
     Implied/Referenced Anal Sex, Bad BDSM Etiquette, No Aftercare, No
     Safe Words, Homophobia, Slurs, Knife Play, Blood
     Comics: Dark Avengers #01-04, Dark Wolverine #75-80
Thud!
Sharp metal dug into his skin, severing nerves and slicing through muscle like
the metaphorical knife through butter. He bit his lip hard and went still. The
arrow came from nowhere. Daken had come out of the bathroom, and the door
hadn’t even shut fully when he found himself pinned to the wall. It seemed he
had underestimated the amount of sheer frustration and anger he had been
inducing. Having Lester show up in his private quarters and wait for him to
leave the bathroom was indeed not something Daken had expected.
“Ah, an arrow. How terribly original. What’s next? Going to blow me up a second
time? That didn’t wo-”
Firm, chapped lips pressed against his own and now Daken was completely lost.
For weeks he had been playing his little game with Bullseye and for weeks the
most he got was a whole lot of pain. As expected and planned. But this? This
was new. This was not planned.
“Shut the hell up faggot.”
“I believe you just kissed me which makes you -” The arrow twisted in his
shoulder and Daken bit back a sound, “You the faggot.”
“Yeah? Then why are you the one standin’ at half mast?”
“Maybe I really, really like pain.”
Daken had picked the sharpshooter simply on a whim. A certain feeling that he
would be the easiest to manipulate and play. It had never crossed his mind that
all the pheromone induced sexual frustration might end up leading to this.
Daken never quite understood all the fuss about sex and clearly that put him at
a disadvantage. Idiot.
“Pain yeah?” Lester’s hand slid up around that exposed throat and squeezed,
“I’ll show you pain.”
A flick of his wrist would be all it took to get the fucker off of him and yet,
Daken didn’t do it. Instead he let the next kiss happen, yielded to it even.
Killing Lester, or even just injuring him, would mess with his carefully woven
web of lies and deception. Daken was taking this mess of an organization down
from the inside and any little misstep could be his last. Too much work had
gone into this for him to risk it over some sex. Maybe, if he was really lucky,
the overconfident asshole could even give him somethingto enjoy.
You’ve made the bed, now you’ll lie in it.
“Please …” His voice dropped, going soft and smooth, taking on an almost sort
of sweet tone. Daken knew how to play the game and better yet, he could use his
pheromones as much as he wanted to help things along. Lester was too stupid to
pick up on the manipulation, that much he had already proven.
“Shut up.”
Sweet, sweet anger and badly hidden arousal. Cute. Daken hissed when the arrow
was pulled from his shoulder, doing as much damage on the way out as it had
going in. His body would knit things back in minutes though.
“For once, shut your mouth.”
The fist in his hair tugged hard and Daken couldn’t help chuckling, “Make me.”
Hours later Daken would regret these words but in that moment, as he was pushed
to his knees, he felt himself tremble with anticipation. Lester was not himbut
Lester was enough. For a night, for a moment. For making his mind stop running
a mile a minute.
“Open. You bite, I’ll slam that arrow into your spine. Would almost be fun to
watch you try to heal from that.”
Sadist was almost too sweet a word for Lester. Daken parted his lips and just
let the other man push down his throat. So much on the topic of only me being
hard. Projecting much? How deep in that closet are you, you poor fool?An
unexpected development but not one Daken could not see the benefits of. There
were ways to play with someone’s denial and internalized homophobia.
“Seen whores struggle more.”
Daken glanced up, eyes meeting Lester’s own as his lips stretched around the
hard length thrusting between them. The flush on Lester’s cheeks gave him a
less intimidating look, it made him look human - almost. Funny how even
psychopaths seemed to gain some humanity in these moments.
“All you are, eh? Just a fucking whore. Bet your ass is looser than your
vocabulary.”
If that was supposed to be dirty talk, it certainly wasn’t working. Daken
couldn’t say he cared. None of this would do it for him. That wasn’t the point
either way. The only thing that Daken was mildly curious of was how good Lester
would be with a knife. And if that meant he had to give head first, well, Daken
had done a whole lot worse for a lot less.
The thrusts grew more desperate and Daken was not surprised when the hand in
his hair forced him to stay still as Lester came. Bastard probably had never
had to swallow and knew nothing about giving a bit of space to do it right.
Daken coughed when he was let go and then wiped the dribbles of cum from his
chin. Messy. He could have done this a whole lot cleaner if Lester wasn’t such
an idiot.
“Guess now I get why Osborn keeps ya around.”
“Oh baby, don’t be silly. I don’t give it up for just anyone. You’re special.”
Daken rolled his eyes and got up from the floor. Lester reached for him again
but this time Daken caught his wrist and glared, “No. You had your fun. My
fucking turn.”
Ah, how cute. There was actual worryin Lester’s eyes. Daken almost thought
about fucking him just for the hell of it. That would require an actual
erection though and he was short on these. With a little shove he made Lester
sit on the bed as he rounded it and pulled a knife from the drawer of his
nightstand.
“Don’t promise someone pain unless you plan to  deliver. It’s really rather
rude, Lester darling.”
“That’s what you want? Pain? You’re more fucked up than I already knew.”
“Says the guy who just came down my throat. Can we skip the freak out over your
loss of deniability and just get on with it? I’d rather appreciate that.” Daken
flipped the knife and held it out, “You’re going to take all that anger and the
denial, the frustration and whatever else you’ve got bundled up and you’ll use
it on me. Clear enough?”
To Daken’s surprise Lester grabbed the knife and then his wrist, pulling him
onto the bed.
“Very clear.”
The knife was set aside and Daken arched a brow, almost ready to protest when
Lester pulled his belt out and guided Daken’s hands up, using the leather as
improvised bondage gear. Not bad. Maybe you are not as pathetic and boring as
expected.Something like a belt would not hold him if he wanted to get out but
Daken was not in the mood to play the struggling victim anyway.
The tip of the knife touched his skin, right above his navel and Lester asked,
“How much would it take to kill you?”
“Seeing as I am still alive, I have no idea. A lot. A whole hell of a lot.”
Lester nodded absently and then Daken was gasping. The knife dragged over his
skin, drawing blood and sending delicious shivers down his spine. Yes, now we
are talking. Good god, do I have to play this game every time? I fucking hope
not.
“Let’s see if we can’t figure out where your limit is. Everyone has one.
Everyone.”
Daken moanedat the next cut and then everything blurred together into a haze of
pain, pleasure and spoken nonsense.
 
===============================================================================
 
“I’ll take it back.”
With a soft sigh Daken opened his eyes and asked, the word slightly slurred,
“What?”
“You aren’t everyone. You are beyond fucked up. There are no limits with you.”
That was probably the smartest thing Bullseye had ever said in his life. Daken
chuckled and then gasped for air. Ah, his lungs were still healing. Talking and
laughing were bad ideas. He watched with mild interest as Lester got out of bed
and started to dress himself again.
“Maybe next time I’ll see how you like having that knife shoved up your ass.
Judging by today, you’ll moan like a fucking two dollar whore.”
Possibly. Daken could not say he had ever tried that. Romulus’ claws came
pretty close to it though, presumably. Shifting ever so slightly he glanced
down on himself and licked his lips. The red of blood covered him so thickly,
Daken was not sure how much damage was still healing. It felt like a lot.
“You’re a sick, twisted … thing.” Lester reached out, grabbed a handful of
silky black hair and kissed these soft lips once more. “Lucky you I find that
quite interesting.”
“Oh please, you likeit. You liked fucking my ass too.”
“It wasn’t as loose as expected, I give you that. ‘til next time, faggot.”
Daken watched him turn to leave and let out a soft sigh as the door closed
behind Lester. Alone again. With a little tug the belt gave and he pulled his
hands free. The leather had cut into him deeply but the marks were already
fading, leaving behind nothing but smooth skin.
In an hour or so, Daken would drag himself back into the shower and clean up
this mess. For now he was just going to lie there and savor the knowledge that
he did not need his Master to find comfort. To reach a point of catharsis. All
he needed was a sufficiently fucked up psychopath. Maybe I’ll keep Lester
around when this is all over.
***** Nothing *****
Chapter Notes
     Warnings: Conditioning, Rape, Blood, Abuse, Sexual themes, Emotional
     Manipulation, Implied/Referenced Murder
     Note: This chapter and the next couple of chapters will be dealing
     with the Reckoning Arc. Anyone who has read that Arc should be aware
     that this is getting really dark now.
     Comics: Wolverine Origins #46, Dark Wolverine #85, Wolverine Origins
     #47
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Dry heat, the taste of sand on his tongue and the smell of gunpowder in the
air. Africa, Afghanistan, Syria. Daken stood in the small bathroom of the motel
suite and almost gave into the urge to laugh. The worst of his memories were
tied to the icy cold of Canada but too many others had that dry heat to go with
them. There was a reason his favorite time of the year was spring and his
favorite places were anywhere with mild climate. It had been hot in Paris too.
A humid, heavy kind of heat though -
“Do you plan to sleep in the bathroom, boy?”
Daken flinched at the sound of that heavy voice sounding through the locked
door. Another motel. Another city. Another story. Same protagonists. Same
outcome. It was a never ending repeat of the same play. No matter what he
tried, the second Romulus was actually there …
Closing his eyes Daken breathed in deeply and pushed both hands through his
damp hair. Tomorrow morning he was going to put an end to this. All of it. The
decision had been made days ago but now he had an actual opportunity to go
through with it. And he would but - just tonight. Just one more time.
Daken left the bathroom, the door closed behind him as he cocked his head and
met these steel gray eyes. Romulus had dressed down, lying on the bed in a
familiar lazy posture that made heat coil in his stomach. It was almost macabre
that he was doing this. Almost. But not quite. In the end, wasn’t this all he
had ever been good for?
“No … Master.” The word tasted of blood and betrayal. Daken knew the truth now
and yet here he was. The towel was abandoned on the floor as he approached the
bed.
“Ah, look at you my darling boy. Have you come your senses then? Took you long
enough. The way you acted in Paris …” Romulus made that sound deep inside his
chest, one of pure disappointment and displeasure. Daken swallowed. He had
gotten out of the meeting in Paris without … this. Tonight though, that was a
whole different story.
“Master.” Daken reached out slowly and when Romulus did not pull away he took
his hand and guided it to rest on his chest, “Remind me … please. Please …”
Hurt me. Love me. Let me forget that it’s all a lie. Give me just one more
night.
Big, heavy hands drew him into the bed and Daken went willingly, dreading what
was to come and craving it all the same.
===============================================================================
“Say it, boy. Tell me whom you belong to.”
Daken gasped and let out a low moan. These long, sharp nails were digging into
his flesh where the black ink of his tattoo ended and the natural tone of his
skin began again. It left him trembling and achingly hard.
“You.” Meeting Romulus eyes he said it again, “You. I belong to you, Master.”
“That’s right boy. Now and forever. You will never be anything but mine.”
===============================================================================
A sob followed the sharp cry of release as Master whispered permission against
the side of his throat. The teeth dug into him as Daken thanked his Master in a
feverish rush of thank you’s.
Master was being so good to him. Daken had disappointed, had disobeyed and
rebelled and Master was not punishing him. He was rewarding him. Oh how had he
ever dared to doubt ...
===============================================================================
“Masutā, onegai shite kudasai -”
The sound of skin on skin, heavy breathing, whispered pleas for more, for
anything, for release.
Daken lied on the bed, back arched, body shivering with each thrust into him.
He had lost any sense of time ages ago. Somewhere between Master cutting along
the lines of his tattoo and the first cum hitting his skin. It felt as if this
was all they had ever done. His mind refused to think of anything but this.
There was nothing else. Nothing at all.
“I love you.” The words had come again and again. Every time he said them, it
earned him a kiss. It meant the world to him. Master loved him.
===============================================================================
Master loved nothing.
Glancing at the sleeping body besides him Daken bit back the chuckle that
bubbled up inside his chest. Master did not love him. It was all a lie. All of
it. But, oh, how he had needed this. It was worth living the lie one more time.
His body was aching and his mind was quiet in ways Daken had never achieved
with anything else. No amount of drugs, alcohol, sex or pain. It was never
quite right. Never just like this. He’d miss it. He would miss Romulus.
Without a sound Daken rolled out of the bed and dragged himself back into the
bathroom. Romulus liked to wake up in the morning and see the blood and cum
still covering his skin but Daken was not going to give him that pleasure. All
of this had been a mistake already. But that was just who he was -
A giant mistake.
Chapter End Notes
     “Masutā, onegai shite kudasai -” roughly translates to "Please,
     Master oh please -"
     (No I don't speak Japanese so excuse the potential fuck up.)
***** Reckoning *****
Chapter Notes
     Warnings: Implied/Referenced Murder, Implied/Referenced Pedophilia,
     Implied/Referenced Rape, Implied/Referenced Emotional/Psychological
     Abuse, Implied/Referenced Emotional Manipulation
     Special Warning: There is a brief instance of #Incest in this. If you
     need details to decide if you can stomach this, see the note at the
     end of the chapter!
     Comics: Dark Wolverine #86
See the end of the chapter for more notes
How? How? How?!
Daken growled as he paced the streets surrounding the motel. Romulus was just
gone . One second he was there and then nothing. He had been so close. So
close!It had been right there, at his fingertips and then it was gone. His one
chance to feel some sort of closure and relief. It was about revenge, about
claiming what was his, there was no denying that. But above all, Daken wanted
Romulus dead so that he could sleep at night.
With a frustrated growl he slammed his fist against the nearest wall. The pain
only lasted for seconds but it was enough to clear his head a little.
Logan. Wolverine. His Father. There was no other explanation. No one else could
have pulled this off. No one else would do this to him. Daken pushed his hands
through his hair and breathed in slowly. He was going to find Wolverine. And he
would make him talk. This was not how this ended. It could not be how it ended.
===============================================================================
Contacts informed him six hours later that Wolverine had been seen in Budapest.
Daken had stolen a car and driven without pause for almost thirty one hours. A
flight would have been faster certainly but there were no direct connections
and he did not have the patience to deal with getting in and out of planes and
interacting with people. All Daken had on his mind was the seething rage and
utter disappointment he felt.
"No, Daken. It's not because you hate me . It's because you love him. "
The streets were mostly empty given that it was night but anyone who had been
there was sent running by pheromones and his deep growl. Logan knew nothing.
Nothing. The fool said things that were true but he did not understand the real
depth and meaning behind his own words. Daken had smelled it. Logan believed
that what had been between Romulus and him was some sort of father and son
relationship. Oh the nerve of that man to dare and say these word while he had
no idea what they really meant.
“He is gone. You can stop looking.”
Daken spun around, claws out and eyes narrowed. Logan. There he was. Daken had
never been more grateful for a mask than he was in that moment. The thought of
having to look at that face, the face which was identical to the one that
haunted his dreams - it would likely have made him throw up. This was better.
This he could deal with.
“And now you are here for me.” A part of him wanted to cry out. Scream at
Wolverine for taking everything from him. For that stupid line. For not saving
him. For not checking if the child in his wife’s womb was alive. For allowing
the world to break him apart and put him back together all wrong. Daken said
none of it.
“It’s about time.” They both moved quickly and he felt an odd, short sensation
of satisfaction. At least I will die today.
===============================================================================
Pain. Heat. Itching.
Daken shifted and then whimpered. His arms, they felt like they were on fire.
Opening his eyes slowly he groaned and rolled over, away from the window so
that the light did not hurt as much. Bandages. His arms were wrapped in
bandages and he could smell infection. Blood, pus, fever.
It took a good minute before his mind started to catch up. Daken closed his
eyes again and swallowed thickly, trying to fight against the rising urge to
throw up. He remembered. But he was not sure why he wasn’t dead. Wolverine had
stabbed him right through the heart and he had the Muramasa blade with him. It
would have been so easy to end it.
“You’re awake.”
Daken looked up at the sound of that voice and turned his head. Logan. Dressed
casually and smelling of shampoo and soap. Freshly showered. His senses were
dulled by the strain the infection was putting on his body. Daken had not even
noticed the scent or the sound of a shower running.
“Where …?”
“Budapest still. You’re not … healing right.”
The bed dipped as Logan settled on it and reached out. Daken wanted to snarl
and slice his goddamn throat open but he felt sluggish and slow. All he did was
glare as Logan took his arm and started to unwrap the first bandage.
“I guess that’s to be expected. I cut them out. The claws that you laced with
the blade’s metal.”
“And you used the sword itself for it.” Daken chuckled when Logan nodded in
reply. Ah. That explained why he was in this condition. He was stuck healing
like a regular person from cuts that could easily kill. “Good idea, Daddy.”
“Don’t.”
They both went silent. Daken laid there, eyes averted as Logan changed the
bandages. How odd this was. It almost seemed as if Wolverine cared. But no.
Daken would not fall for that. This was guilt, not care. Guilt over all of
this. Taking his revenge, his future, his goals.
Daken did not need pity.
What he needed was Romulus. Dead. By his hands. A corpse to burn and ashes to
bury so that he would never have to look over his shoulder again. Not the pity
of his pathetic biological father.
“There. You’re healin’. Just … slow.”
Daken turned his head, looked up and then froze. Oh. Oh that face. The
expression, the way the light and the shadows played on the familiar features.
His breathing hitched and Daken felt the sting of tears in his eyes.
What he needed was Romulus. Dead - holding him. Whispering praise as claws tore
him open. Loving him. Giving him purpose and filling the void inside with that
all consuming presence.
A soft gasp passed his lips and then Daken reached out, hands curling weakly in
that white shirt. Daken tugged but he didn’t have the strength to pull him
closer. Frustrated he whispered, “Master … please ...”
“What?” Logan leaned closer, “What did -”
Daken moaned as their lips met and he poured every conflicting, desperate
emotion into the kiss. Master went stiff and then he was being pushed away.
Gently. Carefully. Daken whined. Why was his Master not kissing him? Had he
been bad?
<I’m sorry, Master. I’m sorry. I’ll pay for it, punish me - please, oh please
hurt me, use me, fuck me - >
“Alright kid, you need to sleep.”
That voice. It wasn’t right. Not Master.
“Sleep, son. Just sleep.”
His eyes closed. Daken felt sleep take him back.
===============================================================================
The next time he woke up, there was no one else there anymore.
Lying in bed he just breathed for a moment and then slowly sat up. His arms
still itched but he did not feel as feverish and when the bandages were off, he
knew it had to have been a couple of days he was out. There were no open wounds
anymore. Just scars. Deep, ugly scars.
Daken flexed his hands, popped his claws and cried out in agony. The pain
passed but he was left feeling shaky with it. That had maybe not been his best
idea but considering that he had kissed his Father – this was mild.
Fever was an excuse but it would never undo that action. No wonder he is gone.
Probably knew I would wake up again soon.Daken sat there on the bed and just
breathed. He had no idea what to do next. No plan. No goal.
Nothing. He had nothing.
Chapter End Notes
     Special Warning: The instance of #Incest is Daken kissing Logan in a
     fever induced state of delusion.
***** Benefits *****
Chapter Summary
     Daken needs to forget. After months of trying to keep busy to quiet
     his mind, he decides to try another method. Lucky for him Johnny has
     different ideas about how to spent some quality time together.
Chapter Notes
     Warnings: Implied/Referenced Sexual Content, Depression, Friends with
     Benefits
Four months had passed. Daken slid the shades off as he entered the building
and swiped the card for access to the private elevator. Four months. News had
caught on in the shady parts of the world quickly and people were trying to
fill the void but none of them ever would. Without the keys, without the
knowledge, there was no replacing Romulus on the throne. The underground would
have to reorganize and learn to play by new, different rules.
It would have amused him under any other circumstances but things weren’t
different. The reality was that he was as clueless as everyone else. Logan had
taken it all. He held the keys and he would never use them. Everything that
Romulus had built over the centuries would fall and crumble to dust. Nothing
more than a faint memory that would eventually turn rumor, then legend and
finally myth. There was a bittersweet taste to that thought. Romulus would be
forgotten. He would become no more than the shadow he had always claimed to be.
Forgotten, replaced by an unrecognizable twisted whisper in a myth that would
only hold the faintest bit of truth.
With revenge denied. With the kingdom out of his reach and with nothing left to
cling to - Daken had decided to take whatever small comfort he could get from
the thought that one day Romulus would be no more. It was not enough. It would
never be enough. But it was better than nothing.
Two days after he had awoken alone inside the motel room, Daken had left Russia
to return to Italy. A desperate attempt, the fading hope that maybe he could
pick up some clue there as to where Romulus had come from that night in the
hotel. It had been a ghost chase. Pointless. Unsuccessful.
Next had come Japan. In another foolish, frantic attempt to hold onto
something. Daken had searched for Muramasa for nearly three months and found
not even a hint that was more than a legend. Of course Daken knew he was more
than that but the man was still nowhere to be found if he did not want to be
found. Not that he had truly believed that Muramasa would create a weapon for
him to kill Logan. It just had been  something  to keep his mind occupied, to
silence the thoughts that made his skin crawl and his stomach turn.
It was all just distraction now. Even this. Especially this.
Daken stepped into the familiar space of Johnny’s floor inside the Baxter
building and for a second, he felt his lips curl into a smile. That scent, the
ever present heat, the sight of Johnny sprawled on the couch with a bowl of
popcorn and an action movie running. It almost felt like the world was still in
balance, just for one brief, wonderful moment. Then reality returned.
“Daken, man! Where the hell have you been? Can’t use a cellphone and keep a guy
upda-”
The words were swallowed by his own lips. Daken pushed his hands up into golden
hair and moaned. This, this was what he needed right now. A moment to forget, a
moment to pretend. The bowl was carelessly pushed onto the floor so that there
was space for him to straddle Johnny’s lap.
“Whoa, okay, yeah I am game but -”
Another kiss and then Daken said, firmly, “No talking. No questions. I need you
to just … just make me forget.”  Please, please Johnny. I don’t know where else
to go.
There was a short moment of silence which felt like eternity. Johnny looked at
him with these bright blue eyes, seeming to search for something that Daken was
not sure was there but then Johnny nodded and it almost made him want to drop
to his knees in thanks.
Soft lips met his own again and this time Johnny didn’t let him take control
and turn things from slow and tender to desperately heated. Daken felt himself
melt into the kiss, into the arms around him and the hands that were pushing
under his shirt.  Yes, yes please. Touch me. Use me. Hurt me.
“Shh, I’ve got you.”
The gentle soothing made no sense until Daken realized that he was trembling
and that his breathing was coming too heavy and sharp. Pressing close he rolled
his hips and made a soft, low sound before replying, “‘m good, don’t treat me
like spun glass. We both know I’m anything but …”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t take it slow.” Johnny smirked, “No one else is home,
Daken. We’ve got time and I intend to make use of it.”
Daken blinked a few times and then just kissed Johnny again. This was
unexpected. All their previous encounters had been quick, to the point and
dangerous. At least insofar that they would do it in semi-public places with
the added kick of potentially being discovered. This was different. This was
new. Daken liked the idea of new because new meant more distraction.
“Gonna take care of you.” With an easy tug Daken’s black shirt was removed and
throw off to the side, “Promise.”
===============================================================================
Johnny Storm, it turned out, kept promises.
Daken sighed in a deeply content way as he stretched and then rolled onto his
side. After the third orgasm they had changed locations from the living room to
the bedroom. Apparently Johnny thought that letting him enjoy the afterglow in
comfort was important. Daken was surprised to find that he agreed.
Nothing had gone the way Daken had imagined it would. There had been no rough
fuck against the wall, no cock choking him as Johnny road out his peek, no real
pain and no blood. All the things that Daken had come for hadn’t happened and
yet here he was - content and sated in the oddest way he had ever experienced.
“Here.” Johnny settled back on the bed and held a bottle of water to Daken,
“You need to drink, that was quite the workout.”
“That’s what you call that?” Daken chuckled softly, accepted the bottle and
took a few sips. It was always odd how thirsty he felt once someone did offer
water even though he would have sworn he didn’t need it.
“It’s exercise, just really fun exercise.”
Nodding he just drank a bit more and then put the bottle aside on the
nightstand. As soon as he had, there was a hand in his hair and lips on his own
again. Daken kissed back without hesitation but it stayed chaste to his
surprise.
“Think we’ve had enough. I know I did, no healing factor sadly.” Johnny
chuckled, lied back down and pulled Daken into his arms. “Maybe in the morning
…”
“Are you - … you want me to stay the night?” Daken was stunned. He was being
spooned and there were lips pressing kisses to his shoulder, and now he had the
invitation to stay?
“Yeah, stay here tonight. Know you don’t talk about stuff but you came here for
a reason. I want you stay for however long you can bear it.”
“Johnny …” This was bad. Daken had never expected it to go there. “I don’t …
date.”
“Hey now, no one said that word until you did. Friends with benefits, Daken,
that can include the benefit of a night filled with cuddling.”
There was a long pause and then Daken took a deep breath and relaxed again.
“Alright. If you snore, I am not responsible for any stabbing that might
occur.”
“Ha, fair enough.”
The last time sex had felt this way it had been with Kim. Daken had been in
love with Kim, he knew that. This wasn’t quite that though. It felt far more
complicated actually. The sort of complicated that he was simply not interested
in dissecting. Friends with benefits. It would do as a term. It fit. Johnny was
his friend. And there were many benefits to that.
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