reanbeanmachine | gross au

[He will pound Siegfried's ass until he's satisfied the man can't even think, and then some. Nice thing at his age is stamina is not an issue, he can and does continue for A While, fingers digging into the back of Siegfried's neck, relentless in taking his pleasure of him.

He aims to make him come from this, just this, no other touches, no kind stroking of his cock. Only when Siegfried is spent does Osborne release inside him, quite sated.]

[Somewhere in the middle of it he's started to cry. He doesn't know why and he's too wrapped up in pleasure to think about it, but it's happening. It's that weird distressed part of him leaking out, and it feels like an unknown entity trying to climb out of the back of his mind.

He has the urge to call someone's name, but he doesn't know what name it is. Instead he just makes increasingly higher pitched and more desperate noises, as his body begs for release. Even after he finds it he's not quiet -- his overwhelmed moans trail off into soft, breathless whines, and he just can't stop shaking. It's a little too much. He doesn't have enough sense of self to know what to do with this feeling, so he's stuck on the physical, feeling every electric spark on his tired nerves.

When he's no longer being held down he slides off the desk onto the floor, sticky and a little nauseous at the full feeling and the sensation of come sliding out of him. As he comes down from the high he's noticing his own tears, and suddenly they've gone from a slight burn to a steady roll down his face. He's confused. He doesn't know where it's coming from and frankly that's really frightening, so he wipes at his face with the heels of his palms, willing the mysterious sadness to go away.]

[Osborne leans down enough to wipe his fingers over Siegfried's cheek. Interesting. The tears don't seem to be from physical distress. So some part of Crow exists, but not consciously.

This has proven both enlightening and pleasurable. He wipes off his dick with a handkerchief and straightens up, returning to his chair.]

Clean up when you recover.

...Yes, sir.

[He feels so weird. Tired and satisfied but also miserable for reasons he can't even begin to understand. He gathers himself quickly enough, though, and eventually uses his coat to wipe himself down, gets back into his bodysuit, and with an embarrassment that feels foreign slinks out of the room to go shower and do the laundry.

He'll continue to have that conflict, but he'll also continue to be agreeable. In fact the longer he lives as Siegfried the less he cares about the weird feeling. Sex feels great and he doesn't have any issue being used. He's shamelessly into it, sometimes initiating on his own, always eating it up with wanton abandon.

He's like that for a year. But then he meets Rean Schwarzer, and a bitter anger starts to build in him. He doesn't know why, but he wants to lash out at Rean, and he does, with bursts of violence breaking his cold, polite demeanor. Back home he's more aggressive too, in following orders and in a desperate sort of desire. When he's full of pleasure he doesn't have to think about how unstable he feels, or the flashes of confusing memory he keeps getting when facing Rean.

Eventually, Osborne's plans come to fruition. Rean is consumed by the demon inside him, and Crow remembers who he is. He tries to protect Rean, but in the end they're both captured, Rean dragged off to be magically restrains while Crow is deposited in that familiar office, thrown on the floor in handcuffs. He's so angry. He's furious enough to burst, so much so there's no room for fear.]

I'm going to kill you.

[Having Siegfried to relieve his stress has certainly been enjoyable, and more accessible then a busy Rufus. Still, there's something good about having Crow back, with that hate in his eyes.

And Osborne is somewhat frustrated right now. Things are going to plan, but that does mean his son is in a state. He's let Cedric handle Rean and he's well aware that the prince isn't going to be gentle. It's a shame, but not a problem. But here, Crow is convenient for taking out some of his lingering feelings on.

He presses the toe of his boot to Crow's cheek.]

Yes. That went so for you last time.

[He leans away from that boot, glaring daggers at Osborne and trying to get up off the ground. He's never been so angry in his life. He's about ready to set the whole building aflame.]

I'll do it til it works. You're going to get buried even if I have to come back from the dead a thousand times!

That would be a most interesting experiment.

[He reaches down and drags Crow up by the hair, tossing him facedown over his desk.]

[He's been in that position more than enough times to know what's coming. But he's not eager this time -- instead he's struggling, resisting being pulled up and trying to get off the desk as soon as he's put there. It's hard in handcuffs but Crow's a motivated guy.]

Don't you dare touch me! I'll rip it off!

How lively.

[Osborne is a lot bigger and stronger, shoving Crow down with little effort despite his lively struggles.]

It's been a year of this, I wonder if your body will betray you by enjoying it like it always has?

Fuck off, creep.

[He can't be sure that won't happen, so he's not going to deny it and be proved wrong. But that won't stop him. No amount of pain or humiliation will ever, ever stop him from taking his revenge, especially now that he's got so much more to take revenge for.]

[Osborne just smiles at the back of Crow's head and yanks his pants down. No reason to prepare Crow or pretend at any consideration now, and it hasn't been that long, the boy should take him well enough.

He'll hold Crow down by his neck as he prepares himself, stroking his own cock between Crow's thighs.]

No!

[He doesn't want this. He absolutely doesn't, but he knows nothing he does is going to stop it. It's pointless, but he's still going to struggle as hard as he can, cursing at the top of his lungs the whole time.]

Let go of me, you disgusting old bastard! I'm not your damned toy!

And yet, for a year, you have been.

[Amused at the struggles, as if anything would stop him, as if those words of Crow's have any meaning or impact.

In fact, he's going to spread his ass and take him with a rough jerk of his hips, the underscore the complete uselessness of Crow's protests.]

[He could avoid screaming if he wanted to, but he doesn't. It takes some of the stress off, so he's just going to scream and fight until he can't anymore. No one will be able to come anywhere near that room without knowing what's going on, and he doesn't even care. He hopes he's making people really fucking uncomfortable.

He also hopes if he fights hard enough he can avoid any shameful enjoyment.]

[Osborne is amused but the screams and struggles don't stop or even slow him down. He presses harder on the back of Crow's neck and on his hips, trapping him perfectly well against the desk as he takes the rhythm and roughness that he's learned is quite nice and that Crow tends to like so much, or at least did, before he remembered to hate Osborne.]

[At least if he's screaming in rage he's not making any pathetic noises. He hangs onto that for awhile, until his throat really hurts and until, as anticipated, his body is into it enough to be impossible to ignore. He trails off then, clamming up instead, quiet as a mouse except for laboured breathing. He's trembling, though, and flushed, and there's nothing he can do to hide that part.

He's so angry. So humiliated. All he can think about is how badly he wants to kill this man, in the most gruesome way imaginable.]

I see you're starting to feel it.

[He mocks him, amused, dragging Crow's hips back against him as he thrust into him particularly roughly at a particularly pointed angle.]

Your body remembers when it's been mastered. And as we've seen, your mind can be forced along.

Ah-- I won't... let you...

[He can't get away from this, but he's not going to let his identity get erased again. He can't. There's someone he needs to save, so he absolutely can't allow that to happen. His voice is a soft, strained whine, though, not so much bite left when he's trying so hard not to let any pleasured sounds out.

It's not fair. He's even angry at himself, for being so pathetic as to forget. For letting the man he hates control him so thoroughly. Those memories, at least, he wishes he could erase. He doesn't want to remember being used this way. It's gross. He feels disgusting.]

[That is the point though, to make Crow feel degraded. And he's not stopping or slowing, relentless in the pursuit of taking his own pleasure from Crow, and dragging Crow along with him kicking and screaming.]

I'm afraid from a constant failure that means little.

[He has in fact failed a lot. He's failing right now to keep himself from panting and shuddering and feeling ready to burst. He's comforting himself by digging his nails into the varnish and leaving ugly scratches.]

Go die already.

[He's trying to sound strong and pissed off, but he actually just sounds tired and upset.]

[Osborne laughs, breath against Crow's neck as he leans over him, bearing down with his weight and presence as he spills inside him, murmuring into his ear with a mildly breathless and pleased voice.]

You make such an excellent pawn even now.

[He's been using Crow for so many years it really is humorous.]

[He chokes on the sound that wants to escape, when he follows over the edge. His legs feel like jello and he wants to sink into the floor, but he's determined not to be destroyed by this. He's got a lot to do. It doesn't matter that he's been used up to now. He won't be used anymore. He's done.

He's going to win this time, so there's no reason to feel so much like garbage.]

You can laugh in hell.

[He ruffles Crow's hair, almost fondly.]

You seem to have plenty of spirit left.

[He's letting him drop, pulling away and cleaning himself up as he summons guards in to clean up Crow's mess and drag him away without any pretense of giving Crow some dignity after fucking him over his desk.]

[He lets himself be dragged away, because fighting at that moment isn't going to get him anything. But he's thinking, and planning, and remembering -- every detail he knows about this place and its layout is clicking into place in Crow's head.

He'd like to wait for the most opportune time to strike, but there's a very real risk that he'll be handed back to the people who revived him and lose his memory again at any time. He's got to move fast. So it's only been a day or so when he's managed to make his cot look like something's in it using his coat and pillow. It wouldn't hold up for long, it wouldn't work on Osborne or Rufus or anyone else that smart, but it's enough to fool an average guard just long enough for Crow to get his arms around his neck. Handcuffs, it turns out, work just fine for strangling someone.

After that he gets his cuffs unlocked, then takes the liberty of opening a bunch of other cells, just to make as much chaos as possible as he slips off towards the area he thinks Rean is probably being held in. A day is more than enough time for Rean to have been thoroughly magically bound and fucked with (and probably fucked), but Crow's expecting him to still be berserk, and he's hoping that'll dim any bad memories created in this prison.

He gets there an hour later, with a trail of dead or unconscious guards behind him and a stolen gun in a stolen holster at his thigh. He's careful opening the door, seeing the red glow behind it and preparing for the worst.]

...Rean?

[The wards holding Rean are extensive. Crow can get into the room but Rean himself is chained to the walls and ceiling like he's some kind of wild beast, the glow of arts strengthening and enforcing the chains, and around his neck and head in a strange collar and crown.

He looks at Crow with no recognition in his eyes, and in the reflection there, the red glow of them, there's only hate and pain and murder.

his torn clothes and the dried blood and other fluids on him certainly give testament to Crow's suspicions about his day in this place, but Rean himself doesn't move when Crow enters, only watches him like a hawk watches something to murder.]

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