Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/6392890.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      カーストヘヴン_|_Caste_Heaven
  Relationship:
      Karino_Kouhei/Azusa_Yuuya
  Character:
      Azusa_Yuuya, Karino_Kouhei
  Additional Tags:
      Light_Bondage, Bruising, Spit_As_Lube, Orgasm_Delay/Denial, it's_caste
      heaven_you_know_what_you're_getting_into, and_it's_nothing_good
  Series:
      Part 3 of warning_label:_these_are_the_bad_things.
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-03-29 Words: 2822
****** Purgatory ******
by distantattraction
Summary
     The details may shift, but nothing ever really changes when Karino
     fucks him.
Notes
     my advice is still never ever to get into caste heaven, but for those
     of us already here:
     WELCOME BACK TO THE FUCKING PIT
See the end of the work for more notes
Campus is too loud. It’s all teenagers chattering and laughing, high-pitched
and persistent. Azusa can hardly stand to hear it. They’re like flies that
won’t stop buzzing past his ears, and Azusa has no choice but to let them.
If he could, he thinks he would use the King’s room for peace and quiet, now.
It’s far from the classrooms that are actually used--far enough that no one can
hear the sounds of sex coming from it during class.
Azusa has always known this was the case. The King’s room has always been used
for sex. He certainly used it often enough when he had the crown. And there’s
no one too stupid or ignorant to realize what the Kings have always done there
with the Queens and Pleasers.
But now, Azusa just wants distance. He just wants quiet. He wants a place where
he can be untouched and there isn’t anywhere like that on the entire campus.
It’s strange, he thinks, wanting to go home. He’s never felt that way before,
and it doesn’t last once he’s there, but he feels it all the same.
 
Sometimes, he still hears the shattering of glass on pavement in his dreams. He
still feels hands, too many hands, pinning him down. The glass breaks and the
shards scatter the shadowy figures but they scratch Azusa, too.
When he’s awake, he remembers instead the heavy thud of the glass sphere
landing in Karino’s hand, that time he tossed it casually while offering Azusa
a choice. The ball is still somewhere in the King’s room. Azusa sometimes
catches the light glancing off of it out of the corner of his eye when Karino’s
got him bent over the right table. Azusa daydreams about shoving it down
Karino’s throat so he chokes on it and Azusa gets to watch the light leave his
eyes.
 
Karino strips him, ties him up, and stares. Azusa can already feel his bony
knees bruising on the hard tile floor, but Karino doesn't do anything. He just
sits there, his eyes taking in the details, lingering on the sharp angles at
which Azusa’s body bends.
“Will you just hurry up and get it over with?” Azusa asks. He's too frustrated
even to worry about what Karino might do to him. He doesn't like being trussed
up like a piece of meat.
Karino smirks, but he doesn't say anything. He doesn't owe Azusa a verbal
response. Instead, he reaches out a foot.
It's almost impressive how precise the touch is. The rough sole of his shoe
just grazes the head of Azusa’s cock. It doesn't feel good, not by a long shot,
but it's enough to make him flinch. And then Karino lifts his foot again.
Azusa knows almost instinctively what Karino wants, so by the time Karino’s
heel comes to rest on Azusa's shoulder, Azusa has already braced himself to
resist.
He’s upright long enough to see Karino’s eyebrows narrow slightly, and then
Karino puts more power into his leg, and Azusa’s body folds. Karino drags his
foot along Azusa’s skin, from his shoulder to the base of his neck and then up
through Azusa’s hair to the center of his head. The places the hard rubber
scratches against feel like nail marks on Azusa’s skin.
Karino’s foot presses his face into the floor. Azusa tugs against his bonds
even though he knows they’re secure, and he does his best to glare up at
Karino, but the angle isn’t right. He can just barely catch the hint of a smirk
on Karino’s face--or maybe he’s imagining it. He knows what it looks like by
now, and he knows when Karino wears it. The shoe presses harder. Azusa closes
his eyes, trying to focus on breathing.
He can feel Karino’s gaze sweeping over his tense back muscles, but just
looking must bore him quickly, because he lifts his foot sooner than he ends
any of his other games.
 
Karino leaves marks on him. Most of the time, it’s accidental. Azusa bruises so
easily, and Karino’s hands leave purple fingerprints on his wrists, his hips,
his neck.
But sometimes it’s deliberate, and on those days Karino is careful. He chooses
places that he knows won’t be seen by anyone but him. He likes sucking bruises
onto Azusa’s inner thighs, and Azusa can see them, red and angry, past Karino’s
shoulders as he licks Azusa’s cock.
Azusa closes his eyes and digs his nails into his palms while Karino sucks him
off. He keeps his hands to himself. The second time Karino ever blew him, Azusa
put his hands in his hair the way he used to do with girls, and Karino pinned
his hands to the couch for the rest of the afternoon. Karino isn’t careful when
he’s angry, and Azusa is tired of seeing the shadows of Karino’s hands on his
wrists when he’s at home.
The marks are dark and ugly against his pale skin. They catch the light in all
the wrong ways, and sometimes he catches his mother staring.
 
The strange thing is, when the ball strikes Azusa, he doesn’t even think it was
deliberate. He thinks those two classmates of his--he can’t remember their
names--really were just playing around. It was Azusa’s mistake to look up when
he heard the whistling of the baseball flying through the air. The black eye is
a suitable punishment.
His mother fusses over him when he gets home, but he waves her off. “It was an
accident,” he assures her. “No one is after me.” It’s a lie, but it’s
unrelated, so it doesn’t matter.
There’s a low hiss in the classroom when Azusa walks in the next morning, his
eye black and swollen. The two classmates who had been playing around the
previous day flinch when they see how bad his face looks, which is unfortunate
because Karino sits behind them. He glares at them, his eyebrows coming
together dangerously.
All three go missing at lunch, and Azusa isn’t surprised that the other two
boys don’t come back when class starts again.
That afternoon, Karino looks at Azusa with what he supposes is concern.
Karino’s gaze doesn’t leave his black eye. He puts his hand to Azusa’s face,
cupping his cheek, and it’s...gentle. Gentle enough to be at odds with the way
that Karino presses his thumb into the bruise a moment later. He doesn’t stop
until Azusa winces.
The rest of it is the same as ever, with one exception: as long as Azusa and
Karino are facing each other, Karino keeps his hand over Azusa’s injured eye.
 
He’s on his knees in the King’s room with Karino standing behind him when
Karino grabs at Azusa’s hair and pulls his head back. Karino leans over him so
he can meet Azusa’s eyes, and his shoulders block out the window behind him. He
casts a shadow over Azusa’s face.
Karino puts his fingers to Azusa’s mouth. “Suck,” he says. Commands. Azusa
turns his face to the side, and Karino twists his hand in Azusa’s hair. Azusa
hisses. “Suck them,” Karino says again, “or I will go in dry.”
Azusa flinches. It’s not an empty threat, and the memory is vivid.
(It had hurt, Karino forcing dry fingers into Azusa and moving them like he
didn’t know it burned. He laughed as Azusa shook beneath him, and Azusa pressed
his face to his arm to hide the tears.)
Azusa parts his lips, and Karino looks smug as he slides his fingers into
Azusa’s mouth. He puts them in just far enough to irritate Azusa’s throat, to
make him want to cough without really choking him. Saliva drips out of the
corner of his mouth when Karino pulls his fingers back out past his lips.
Karino spits on him for extra moisture before pressing inside, spreading his
fingers against the tight muscle. Azusa draws in one long breath that catches
in his throat when Karino crooks his fingers and nudges his prostate.
After a time, the fingers withdraw. Azusa feels the head of Karino’s cock
against him and braces himself, but this broken noise still slips out of his
mouth when Karino enters him. Saliva isn’t enough, will never be enough, and it
hurts so much and he hates Karino so much.He’ll break Karino for this, Azusa
thinks as Karino fucks him. He will destroy Karino if it kills him to make it
happen.
 
It’s not that he doesn’t realize he has a cold before he leaves the house, it’s
that the fever gets worse much faster than he anticipated. By third period,
he’s dazed beyond the point of paying attention to the lecture. He’s vaguely
aware of Kusakabe turning in his chair to give him worried looks, but Azusa has
never paid much attention to Kusakabe.
Karino doesn’t catch hold of his shirt collar until after the final bell rings,
but then he drags Azusa into the King’s room and throws him onto the couch.
Azusa tries to focus as Karino strips him, but he’s dizzy and lightheaded and
exhausted. Karino pushes two fingers into him and says something about how it’s
gotten easier and easier to do now that he’s such a loose whore and Azusa knows
somewhere in his head that he should argue, but his back arches at the touch
and nothing leaves his mouth but a breath.
Karino wraps his hand around his own cock, giving it a few quick pumps before
pressing it into Azusa. He’s rough; he’s always rough, but today he hasn’t
prepared Azusa nearly enough. It hurts, and Azusa wants to hit him, but his
arms are heavy. He bites his own lip instead.
“It’s hotter than usual inside you,” Karino says. Azusa balls his hands into
fists, but he’s too busy shivering to do anything else.
Karino spreads his legs and fucks him and Azusa lets it happen. He covers his
eyes with his arm and pants into his hand, and he bets that if he opened his
eyes, the room would spin.
Abruptly, Karino stops. He pulls out, and Azusa blinks up at him blearily,
shivering. He’s pretty sure that that was too fast for either of them to
finish.
“Go home,” Karino says, and his voice is like ice. “It’s boring when you don’t
fight back. I might as well be fucking anybody.”
It takes Azusa longer than usual to dress himself when Karino leaves. The
fabric feels terrible against his sensitive skin, and he’s fucking freezing.
His mother takes one look at him when he walks through the door and sends him
to bed. When he wakes up again, dehydrated, feverish, and covered in sweat, he
heads into the kitchen to find her waiting with a pot of soup simmering on the
stove.
 
Karino leaves stinging red handprints on Azusa’s ass and sends him back to
class, laughing. Azusa doesn’t need to turn around to know Karino is watching
him, smirking every time Azusa shifts in his seat. Azusa forces himself to stay
still, and the pain fades into a dull ache that he can ignore.
 
Azusa is crying, and he hates that he gets like this, but he doesn’t blame
himself completely. After all, they’ve been at it for so long--long enough for
Karino to have come inside him three times. That’s bad enough as it is, but
Karino tied off his cock before they started and now it hurts. He’d tried to
take the rope off himself, but his movements weren’t subtle enough. Now Karino
holds his hands behind his back, and Azusa has no way to muffle the noises he’s
making.
“You should try begging, Azusa,” Karino says. “It would be a good look on you.”
“Fuck you,” Azusa chokes out, gritting his teeth to bite back a moan when
Karino’s cock hits his prostate again.
“Are you sure that’s your answer?” Karino says, running his fingers along the
head of Azusa’s bound cock.
Azusa half gasps, half sobs at the touch. His knees buckle; only Karino’s grip
holds him up. Karino keeps him suspended for a moment before he lets him fall.
Azusa hits the ground with a thud, Karino slipping out of him on the way down.
He lies there panting, trying to breathe, as Karino laughs.
“Your body is so much more honest than the rest of you.” He flips Azusa over
and presses back into him, forcefully. Azusa raises a hand instinctively to
push Karino off of him. Karino grabs Azusa’s forearm and thrusts into him
again. He puts his free hand on Azusa’s cock, and when Azusa whines, Karino
leans in close enough for Azusa to feel his breath against his skin.
“I want you to askme to let you come,” Karino says. “I want you to remember
that your body isn’t yours anymore.”
Azusa freezes for a second, and then he laughs. His chest is still heaving with
sobs, but he’s definitely laughing. He’s heard those words before, and the echo
of a memory floats into his mind alongside the smell of cigarettes he knows
Karino has never smoked.
“What’s so funny?” Karino asks. Azusa wants to say “everything,” but Karino’s
voice is ice and Azusa doesn’t think he can afford to piss him off any more
right now.
“Nothing,” he says instead.
“Then beg.” It’s an order.
“I want to come.” He says the words, and they are true, but it doesn’t hurt as
much anymore.
Karino grunts. Evidently that is enough because he loosens the rope, and with
one final thrust, they come together. Azusa has to admit it’s an incredibly
intense orgasm, but that doesn’t make it good.
He lays on the floor with semen on his chest and dripping out of his ass. He
runs his fingertips through the mess on his stomach and watches it cool and gel
on his skin. Karino leaves without checking to see if Azusa is alright (of
course, he never does because Azusa never is), and Azusa laughs again as he
hears the door click shut. It sounds hollow and almost manic when it leaves his
throat.
He really is his mother’s son after all.
 
Azusa sits in the bath until the water turns cold, and then he sits some more.
He doesn’t get out until he starts shivering, and then it’s only because he
knows he can’t get sick again. He leaves the bathroom smelling of cheap soap,
wearing cheap clothes, and drying his hair with a cheap towel.
He catches sight of his reflection in the mirror in the hall and tries, for a
moment, to imagine a crown atop his head.
He snorts as he turns away from the mirror. It doesn’t suit him. It probably
never did.
 
“I want your dick,” he says, and he chokes on the words.
It’s a lie, Azusa reminds himself. It’s a lie, it’s a lie, and it’s not real if
he doesn’t want to say it. But he feels filthy, like his tongue is covered in
dirt, and it’s so much worse than the time Karino came in his mouth and covered
his lips with his hand so Azusa had to swallow.
(He threw up later, bile and semen, but that was after Karino had left.)
It’s bad enough that he has to say it once, in front of that stupid student
teacher who can’t keep his goddamn mouth shut, but Karino drags him into the
classroom and pushes him down just inside the door where he knows they will be
heard, and Azusa has to keep going. He has to ask for more when Karino pinches
at his skin and fucks him into the floor and it’s not real it’s not real it’s a
lie but this is the first time Karino has ever gotten him to beg. His voice
comes out too high and he makes a noise that’s too close to a whine and he
tells himself that isn’t real either, but the line is so blurred he can’t be
sure anymore.
It will be the last time I ever beg, Azusa promises himself. Karino comes
inside him and the sensation is familiar by now, but it still sends a shiver of
disgust up Azusa’s spine.
The next day, the student teacher avoids Azusa’s gaze, which is fine. It’s fine
because Azusa stares straight through him anyway. He’s nothing. He’s an
obstacle that Azusa had to get around and it cost him something to do so, but
he’s nothing.
 
In his dreams, he hears himself telling Karino to stretch him open and fill him
up, feels himself push back into each of Karino’s thrusts. He looks down from
somewhere outside himself as that Azusa grips at Karino’s shirt and pulls him
closer, listens in disgust as he pants and moans beneath Karino’s touch.
He wakes up hating himself more than ever before, and he supposes he should
start calling these nightmares.
End Notes
     the original title of this document was "ch10 is suffering"
     caste heaven ruined my life goodbye
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