reanbeanmachine | gross au

gross au

[Once upon a time, perhaps, a man named Giliath Osborne had been a good man, a kind father, a loving husband, a good soldier. That was a long, long time ago, long forgotten. These days, there was merely the Blood and Iron Chancellor. A man hellbent on a goal, ready to use everything to achieve it.

Currently, the latest tool from his little workshop was standing in his office facing him with a familiar face, but an unfamiliarly blank expression.

"Siegried" was the name of the doll in front of him, a creature with uses. Already, standing in front of Osborne was plenty of proof that this boy was only a shell that resembled a person, an empty vessel whose memories were sealed away.

He ran his fingertips over the boy's cheek, watching for any reaction, any flinch or concealed disgust. Nothing. Obedience. Perfect.

There was more he could test for this, and if that proved successful, this doll could be useful in very many ways indeed. His fingers lifted a lock of white hair, let it slide over his knuckles as he pulled his hand away.]

Siegfried, I want you to kneel.

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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.]

[Great. This is great. Rean could probably kill Crow in no time, in this state, but he can't let that happen. How does he approach this? It's best first, he supposes, to see if Rean has enough coherent thought to have a conversation. Is he crazy but conscious, or is he just totally mad?]

Hey... I'm not here to hurt you. Can you understand me?

[Rean's eyes track Crow but... There's no recognition, no flicker of human acknowledgment.

Crow's voice only earns a snarl, and the rattle of chains as Rean shifts, barely able to move but entirely maliciously ready to bite if Crow gets stupidly close.]

[How the hell is he going to get Rean out of here like this? Even if he can do something about the bindings, trying to move someone who's violently out of their mind cannot possibly be easy.

Hell, it may well be impossible. Crow can't fight their way out of here and fight Rean at the same time. But he can't just leave him. He owes Rean way too much to let him suffer a single minute longer. So... time to take a risk. He approaches, not yet close enough to bite, but enough so to start fiddling with the security mechanisms.]

I'm gonna get you out of here no matter what, so try not to make that any harder, okay?

[He doesn't really respond until one of the arts locks releases, letting him move just a little. Then, he's lounging against his chains, as if to launch himself at Crow. There's not enough room to make it, and the chains catch him short, growling like a wild animal, not sane or lucid in the least.

He's definitely going to be a pain to rescue like this.]

[Welp. Great. Unfortunately dragging a snarling struggling Rean aorund is not just feasible, so Crow's going to have to either calm him down or knock him out. Both involve getting suicidally close, which is great. But abandoning him isn't an option, so Crow unlocks each and every arts lock, then walks right up to Rean.]

I can't rescue you if you're going to attack me, dude.

[Not that Rean is hearing him, but hey.]

I don't know how to prove I'm safe, but you need to listen to me, or I'll have to put you to sleep for awhile.

[He strains against his bindings and without the arts holding him the chains creak ominously. There's nothing about him that seems to recognize Crow, even though it's only been a day or so since he was... Sane? But now, now he's just obviously trying to break his bindings so he can tear Crow's throat out.]

[Crow is absolutely resigned to getting a little mauled. It's worth it. Rean can try to kill him all he wants, Crow's going to bring him back to himself, and he's going to get him out of here. There's no room for not being confident.]

Hey! Don't be such a brat. You're Rean Schwarzer, aren't you? You're going to disappoint everyone if you don't get yourself together.

[He's standing juuust out of range, mere inches from danger, but refusing to look frightened.]

I'll smack some sense into you if I have to.

[If he had the sense to be chagrined that would get to him but for now the chains continue to creak ominously as he drags and drags on them, red eyes intent on Crow, radiating murder.

A chain snaps, abruptly, and while that makes him stagger with the sudden slack he's recovering unnaturally fast to lunge for Crow.]

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