It's the sound of the cell door opening which suddenly shakes Kamiyama from his fugue state. He is sitting beside the bed with his knees drawn up to his chest, his arms wrapped tightly about his legs, his eyes staring into memories which he cannot quite see; the jarring of the door opening before him causes him to look up slowly, the appearance of the man he only knows as Honma-san seeming to bring him back to the present.
And who else would it be but Honma? For as long as he can remember – and how long has it been now, anyway? One year? Two? - Honma is the only person who has ever come to see him, apart from the men and women who bring him food, water, and changes of clothes. Honma is the only person who ever speaks to him, the only one who listens. In all the time he has been locked away down here, Honma has allowed him only the bare minimum of information, of entertainment; he does not have a television, he is not allowed newspapers or a radio, and books are a rare treat given as a reward for what Honma sees as good behaviour. Honma is the only one whose presence breaks up the interminable days of isolation, and despite the fact that the man is often cruel and distant, Kamiyama cannot help but look forward to his visits since they are the only things which break up the monotony of his existence, and make him feel human again.
“Kamiyama.” Honma steps inside the cell and closes the door behind him. “It's almost time.”
“Honma-san...?” Kamiyama continues to stare up at him, a frown on his face. He knows there is something important happening soon, but without anything with which to properly measure time, the days down here quickly roll into one.
“Don't tell me you've forgotten?” A cruel smile twitches at the corner of Honma's lips, the question itself amusing him. “We finally go live on air today, Kamiyama. All those weeks of preparation, all the dress rehearsals, all the research... today, it all comes together. Today, it begins.”
“The Quiz Show...”
“Exactly.” Honma moves closer and reaches out to ruffle Kamiyama's hair, as if he were a dog who had performed a pleasing trick. This is what he's been training Kamiyama for, for so long; over the past two years he has taught Kamiyama how to act as an MC, working with him on pre-recorded shows and small studio broadcasts, and he has been very pleased with the results so far. Tonight, however... “The Quiz Show. It's time for MC Kamiyama to make his live debut.”
He laughs softly to himself and then crouches down beside Kamiyama, cocking his head to one side to regard the other man with interest; he seems to be studying him even more so than normal, his eyes burning with an intensity which even Kamiyama can see. Kamiyama would back away from Honma if he could because that look scares him, but he's already pressed up against the bed and it's not like there's anywhere else he can go.
“Do you remember what you have to do?”
“Just ask the questions, like I have been doing already...” Kamiyama nods, glancing down at the floor and biting his lip as he focuses hard on remembering the instructions which Honma has given him. He wants to please the other man, to make him proud and show him that he can do exactly what has been asked of him; he knows that if he fails, Honma will punish him by refusing to feed him for a day or perhaps even refuse to visit him for a week, keeping him in complete isolation until he has learned his lesson. That's always the worst punishment of all; even though he knows, he knows, that the man's treatment is cruel, his mere presence is preferable to the fear of being alone. “I need to ask the questions... the ones which you gave me...”
“That's right,” Honma smiles, and he leans over to squeeze encouragingly at Kamiyama's shoulder, causing the other man to whimper softly as he does so. It's not just Honma's presence which brings Kamiyama relief; he's the only person who ever gives him physical contact, the only one who touches him and allows him to feel human warmth. That touching has never yet gone beyond a hug, but it's the only affection Kamiyama can remember in his small, cold world. “You ask the questions which are on the podium, and perhaps they'll help you answer some questions about yourself, too. Didn't I promise you that?”
“Yes...” Kamiyama murmurs softly, glancing up to meet Honma's gaze; he swallows nervously as he does so, once more seeing that dangerous look on the man's face. “I want to remember...”
“Of course you do.” Honma smirks and touches at Kamiyama's hair again, his voice starting to take on a heavy, husky tone. In truth, the very thought of what he has planned for the Quiz Show is exciting him, as it already has done for some time now. Only he knows how this is going to play out; only he knows the truth of Kamiyama's past, and the knowledge that he has complete control over the situation sends a thrill through him which is far more than the mere anticipation of producing a television show. “And I can help you...”
In fact, Honma's feelings towards Kamiyama are entirely complex and confused. He utterly hates the man for what he did to Nitta Misaki; Kamiyama is a murderer and a coward, killing Misaki then refusing to face up to his crime and trying to commit suicide by jumping from the hospital roof. He can never forgive Kamiyama for that, and it will bring justice and closure to see Kamiyama exposed and destroyed. At the same time, however, there is always that sense of a shared history, a shared past; he can never share the memories which he made with Kamiyama and Misaki with anybody else. When it comes to Misaki, to the school days they had together, the time they spent together as teenagers, Kamiyama is all that he has. No matter how much he might try and deny it, there will always be a part of Honma Toshio which remembers Kamiyama Satoru as being his closest friend.
And Honma has not always been a cruel man. When they were younger it was always Kamiyama who made the decisions for the three of them; outgoing, confident Kamiyama with his larger-than-life personality and his constant jokes, his stubborn decisions and his carefree attitude. Honma had been the quieter one then, the one who always sulked at Kamiyama's teasing, the one who idolised Misaki and chided Kamiyama when he made fun of her. But after Kamiyama's fall from the hospital roof – after having six years to brood over Misaki's death, six years of waiting for the man who had once been his best friend to regain consciousness and answer for his crimes, and then two further years of planning to prepare the Quiz Show – Honma has become isolated and bitter, a dark and cold shadow of the boy he used to be.
“You just need to trust me, Kamiyama,” he intones, his voice a sultry purr. He can almost remember the moment when he realised he held feelings for Kamiyama which burned more strongly than the need for revenge; at some point came the revelation that he needed to utterly possess him, to own him, to humiliate and humble him physically as well as mentally. For some months now he has kept his lusts in check, not wanting to spend them in a fleeting few minutes of wasted pleasure; no, this has to mean something. This has to count, just like every episode of the Quiz Show will. And now is the time for his desire to finally be released. “Trust me...”
The hand which had been stroking gently at Kamiyama's hair tightens its grip, Honma giving a moan as his fingers tangle themselves within it; he forcibly tilts Kamiyama's head back, exposing his neck, drawing a quiet whine from the other man's throat. Although he has been rough with him before, this is the first time Honma has done something so... possessive. Honma feels his excitement rising up within him at the idea of Kamiyama obeying his commands on the studio floor, knowing that while the contestants believe they will be the ones playing his game, it will really be him playing them...
“Honma-san...” Kamiyama gives a soft whimper of confusion, not entirely sure what Honma is doing. “Honma...”
“Sssh, Kamiyama. It's alright.” Honma's voice is deceptively soft and smooth as he leans in more closely, his breath hot against Kamiyama's neck. “I told you to trust me...”
And then his lips are on Kamiyama's neck, kissing him, tracing their way along his skin, low moans issuing from his throat with each and every one; it's the first time either of them have ever experienced this, a kiss given and received between two people in desire, and Kamiyama is practically shocked into paralysis by the display. Honma, however, seems to easily take the lead, kissing his way up and along Kamiyama's jawline, kissing at his cheek, one arm sliding around Kamiyama to draw his body closer against him. He gives a loud, low growl as his lips continue to press against his skin, his mouth finding Kamiyama's own, engaging the other man in a gentle kiss which quickly becomes more forceful, more hungry...
“Kamiyama...” Honma breathes, finally pulling away to study the man's face; Kamiyama recognises the look in his eyes now as one of desire, of sheer need, and he knows that he is helpless to try and resist it.
“Honma-san...” Kamiyama drops his gaze like an animal submitting to a challenge, reverting to the quiet, puppet-like state which Honma has trained him into. Seeing him like this only makes Honma laugh.
“I'm not going to hurt you,” he smirks, pleased to see that Kamiyama is already obeying him so easily. But his playing has only just begun – Honma already knew what he wanted when he arrived at the cell, and he's not going to leave until he's finished. “Not yet, anyway. But I'm going to need more from you than just a kiss...”
He slides his arms from around Kamiyama with a sigh and gets to his feet, hauling Kamiyama up with him, his mind already made up. He is going to take Kamiyama this evening, and he's going to make sure that Kamiyama likes it, no matter how brutal he might have to be. Grinning to himself, he reaches a hand down between Kamiyama's legs and touches at the bulge within the man's trousers, frowning as he realises that he isn't hard; Honma can already feel his own arousal growing, his own length hardening as he taunts and teases the other man, and in a way it's disappointing to realise that Kamiyama isn't feeling that same excitement.
“Haven't I done enough for you yet, Kamiyama?” he hisses, squeezing at him though the flimsy material, stroking him. “Haven't I treated you well? I waited so long for you... I've given you a second chance... the least you could do would be to appreciate what I'm about to do to you...”
Kamiyama just stands there, not really understanding everything which Honma is saying, although he understands well enough what is expected of him. He gives a quiet whimper and tries to focus on what would excite him, although really, it's not something he tends to think about that much; he is certainly old enough to know that his body reacts in certain ways to certain things, but desire seems a distant and unfamiliar emotion to him. His sex drive is almost as dormant as his memories.
“I'm sorry...” he whispers, looking down at his feet, not really sure what to do, how to please him. “Honma-san...”
“So ungrateful,” Honma mutters, although he's smirking as he does so, his hand sliding down now inside Kamiyama's trousers to touch at the bare flesh of his length. He closes his eyes and moans as his fingers brush across the smooth, velvety skin, stroking at him, and his smile widens as he feels Kamiyama begin to harden beneath his touch. “That's better...”
Kamiyama whimpers, almost taking a step back as the sensations threaten to overwhelm him; he has touched himself like this before on occasion, but the feeling is completely different when it's somebody else's hand taking control. It's pleasant – more than pleasant – but it's another way in which Honma is displaying his dominance, and Kamiyama knows it. Although he realises that he doesn't entirely dislike it... and his body shows it.
“Better,” Honma murmurs again as Kamiyama grows long and hard, his length responding to his attentions, Honma's fingers closing about him and moving slowly up and down his firm shaft. He teases him for a few moments more, his thumb flicking over the head, before he draws back his hand and regards Kamiyama with a hungry look. “But I still want more, Kamiyama. I need more of you... and I need those trousers to be off.”
He continues to study Kamiyama as the other man meekly does as he's told, taking a hold of his loose trousers and sliding them down from his hips, exposing his length; Honma gives a low moan as the trousers drop to the floor, staring at the other man's arousal with admiration. He's seen it before, of course; they shared locker rooms in school, and he was there when Kamiyama was bathed during his long coma, but this is the first time Honma has seen Kamiyama's lower half naked since he realised he wanted to take advantage of him, and it's certainly the first time he's seen him fully-erect and waiting for him.
His trousers removed, Kamiyama just stands there mutely, blushing, wondering what Honma wants him to do next. He may be bowed and broken, but he's no idiot; he knows full well that Honma's demands are sexual and predatory, and they make him feel uncomfortable, but even so there is a part of him which wants to please Honma like this. For some reason he feels that he owes the man something, although he cannot quite identify what, and he cannot deny that he feels a rush of pleasure every time Honma-san gives him praise.
“Kamiyama....” Honma's lustful growl makes Kamiyama look up, and even as he meets Honma's gaze the other man reaches out to grab him; Kamiyama gasps, but before he can react he's being pushed down onto the bed, Honma shoving him onto his back and clambering onto the bed with him. It's not as though Kamiyama would even dare to fight back – he lacks the physical strength, for one thing – but Honma pins him down anyway, kneeling over him, a sneer on his face. “You're mine...”
He's done his best to keep his lust in check, but now that Kamiyama is lying half-naked before him it's all Honma can do to hold back long enough to speak; his body is trembling with need, the anticipation of his revenge mingling with his more base, physical desires, and it's with shaking hands that he reaches down to unbutton his own trousers, finally freeing his hard length. That done, he touches his fingers to Kamiyama's thighs, groaning loudly, grabbing at the other man and shifting his body so that he lies on his back, his legs apart. Then he moves to kneel between Kamiyama's legs and glares down at him, knowing that he is in complete and utter control.
“Misaki was supposed to be my first, Kamiyama... but now that she's gone...” Honma's voice is thick and heavy with lust, his expression cruel and smug. He lets the words hang, lets the implications sink in, a cold and wicked smile spreading across his face as his fingers trace their way further up Kamiyama's inner thigh. “...it's going to have to be you.”
“Misaki...” There is fear on Kamiyama's face now, fear at the thought of what Honma is about to do, but also fear at not being able to please the other man by recognising the name. It feels as though it should mean something to him but he can't quite grasp it, the memory disappearing like smoke as he tries to cling on to it. “Who's Misaki...?”
“Who's Misaki?” Honma gives a snarl which turns into a sob, his grip on Kamiyama tightening even as he fights back tears. “Who is Misaki?”
Somehow his desire becomes a dark and twisted thing, his lust a means by which to punish and dominate Kamiyama as well as a way in which to find his own pleasure; he thrusts his hips forwards, pressing the head of his length firmly against Kamiyama's entrance, his whole body trembling with rage as well as barely-suppressed need. He briefly lets go of the other man's leg, just long enough to moisten his fingers with his mouth, and then he lowers his hand to reach between Kamiyama's buttocks, rubbing the moisture across his skin, slicking the sensitive flesh.
“I'll make you remember...” he snarls, slowly thrusting forwards, his fingers easing his entrance as he begins to bury himself within Kamiyama's hot, tight body. “I'll make you remember everything...”
“Honma-san!” Kamiyama cries out as Honma penetrates him, a sharp stab of pain tearing its way through him, causing him to tense and arch his back in response to the intrusion; his fingers tangle themselves more tightly within the bedsheets and he braces himself against the strange sensation, wincing in discomfort, although he doesn't fight back or try to pull away. For one thing, he knows better by now than to argue with the other man. “Honma...”
“Kamiyama...” There's a growled response as Honma pauses for a moment, just long enough to allow Kamiyama's body to react to his intrusion; he's never done this before with anyone, male or female, but it just feels right to give his partner the time to adjust to his presence within him. Yes, he wants Kamiyama to hurt, but even so there is still something deep down within Honma's mind which remembers the man as a friend – somebody he genuinely cared about, once; he realises that he wants to punish him, but not completely brutalise him. Kamiyama is due in the studio in less than two hours, for a start; he can't risk jeopardising the culmination of his plans for a mere few moments of pleasure.
Satisfied that Kamiyama can take more, Honma slides himself further inside him inch by inch, slowly filling the other man with his length until he is completely buried within him. He gives a moan, long and loud, closing his eyes as he finally savours the feeling of sexual intimacy, his hands stroking at Kamiyama's lower back; then he pulls back slightly only to push forwards again, causing Kamiyama to cry out as he does so.
"What's that, Kamiyama?" he smirks. "Too much for you?"
"No..." Kamiyama gasps in reply, although his face is flushed, and he is trembling. "I... I can take it..."
"Good," Honma breathes wickedly, noting the way Kamiyama's fingers are already tangling themselves tightly within the bedsheets. It hurts; Honma knows it must hurt. But somehow, that only makes it all the more enjoyable. "And you will..."
He groans loudly as his pace increases, his hips thrusting firmly against Kamiyama, his back arching as he fills his body again and again; Kamiyama is barely responsive, as though he is aware of what is happening but doesn't really know how to react to it, lying there and taking Honma as best he can but not knowing how to deal with the strange feelings of pleasure which seem to be washing over him. It's a stark contrast to Honma's loud, passionate coupling, his anger and frustration finally being released as unrestrained lust, his body slamming furiously into Kamiyama's own. Now that he has started, Honma doesn't hold back.
"Kamiyama!" he gasps, his fingers digging into the other man's side, his breathing shallow and ragged. The other man's true name is almost on his lips but he does his best not to say it, keeping it secret for now so that he can use it against him later. Besides, to say it now would imply an emotional connection between them, something far deeper and more affectionate than what currently lies between them. "Oh, Kamiyama... Kamiyama..."
"Honma..." he utters, finally reaching out to the other man, almost as if for help; he whines and whimpers as his body is pounded into the bed, needing something, someone, to hold onto. "H-Honma-san... please..."
"Kamiyama..." Honma's voice trails off as he slows down his pace for a moment, staring down at the man beneath him; he accepts Kamiyama's touch and allows him to take a hold of his arm, but then he grins nastily as he notices the hardness of Kamiyama's length beneath him. "Oh, it would be selfish of me to take all of the pleasure, wouldn't it...?"
With a vicious smirk Honma moves a hand to touch at Kamiyama's length, pleased to note that he is firm and throbbing now, his fingers closing eagerly about him and beginning to move along his shaft with determined strokes. He begins to moves his hips in time with his hands, faster and faster, a groan escaping his throat as trickles of Kamiyama's essence already begin to leak from the head of his length. It sends a thrill through Honma to know that he can control Kamiyama's excitement like this, that he has the power to bring him to the height of his enjoyment, and having that knowledge only spurs him on to increase his pace, moving furiously inside him now, determined to bring them both to a powerful climax.
Honma has touched himself before, plenty of times, but the sensation now is completely different; it's one thing to pleasure himself with his hands when he's alone, but being here now, sharing his lusts with somebody else, it's almost more than he can take. He does his best to hold back but he's already so close, and he starts to cry out loudly as he works Kamiyama harder than ever, touching at him, pounding into him, staring down at him and watching the way the other man's body moves and reacts; Kamiyama, too, has never experience anything like this, whimpering and whining as Honma thrusts inside him, as the man's hands move up and down his length, and he starts to buck his hips upwards to meet Honma's touch. Kamiyama can feel his body winding tighter and tighter, the heat building between his thighs, his muscles tensing and trembling until suddenly---
Kamiyama falls back and cries out, his climax tearing through him, unrestrained and powerful; he releases his essence over his chest, over Honma's fingers, causing Honma to moan with desire in response. This was what Honma had wanted to see, to feel; Kamiyama at his mercy, responding to his touch, lying there beneath him and whimpering helplessly in response to his affections. He continues to work at Kamiyama thoroughly, guiding him through his orgasm, thrusting against him, inside him, his fingers milking him of every last drop until it seems he can take no more; then he releases his grip on Kamiyama's length, allowing the man to lie there, trembling, as he carries on moving inside him, for he has yet to finish and he won't stop until he, too, is utterly spent.
With a loud growl he slams into Kamiyama harder than ever, burying himself with every thrust, crying out his name and gasping loudly as he edges ever closer to his own release; he's already so close to the edge, so damn close, and he focuses on knowing what he has planned for Kamiyama, knowing what will happen when he reveals the truth, picturing the look of utter devastation on the other man's face, picturing the sensation of coupling with him once he remembers everything...
And now it's Honma's turn to cry out as his orgasm takes hold, his whole body shaking as he releases himself deep inside Kamiyama's body; he continues to buck and thrust, to whine and moan, spending himself thoroughly within the other man, losing himself within him completely. It's not just physically that he lets himself go, either; mentally, emotionally, Honma completely loses control, the sounds coming from his throat almost resembling a series of sobs as he finishes inside Kamiyama, finally collapsing against him with a long, low moan.
“Honma...” Kamiyama's voice is a small, strained whisper, his mind struggling to keep up and understand what has just happened to his body. He aches, but it's not an unpleasant sensation; he feels pain yet it's not unwelcome. “Honma-san...”
“You're mine, Kamiyama...” Honma leans in close, his body pressing down against Kamiyama's own, his breath hot against the bare skin of Kamiyama's neck; he moans and murmurs softly, his lips kissing at his throat, a stark contrast to the unrestrained passion he displayed while he was coupling furiously with the man beneath him. Although his touch is gentle now it feels more like a mockery of affection than a genuine display of love, a show of dominance as opposed to the soft caress of a lover. “You're mine, and I'm never going to let you forget it...”
Honma gives one last thrust of his hips, drawing a loud, pained cry from Kamiyama, before he begins to pull back slowly, withdrawing his length from his partner's body with a low moan. He sighs as he finally slips from Kamiyama's entrance, leaving his skin – and his sheets – stained with his essence, flecked with spots of blood, and kneels back to survey what he has done, running a finger across Kamiyama's exposed flesh with a smirk.
“Not bad,” he intones with a cruel smile. “Not bad at all, Kamiyama. You didn't do too badly for your first time...”
He takes a moment to savour Kamiyama's pained whimpers, more than satisfied to see the man completely humbled and dominated by his actions, then takes hold of a loose corner of the sheets and uses it to wipe himself off - he can arrange for the bed to be changed while they're out filming - and then he tucks himself back into his trousers, buttoning them up and getting to his feet. Making his way to the sink he washes and dries his hands, glancing over at the bed where Kamiyama is slowly curling himself up into a tight ball.
"This is no time to start being coy," he sneers, walking back to the bed to stand over the other man. "Come on. Get up. We've got work to do."
When there is no response from Kamiyama, Honma gives another snarl and grabs at his leg, hauling him to the edge of the bed, drawing another whimper from Kamiyama's throat.
"I said, get up!" he yells, this time yanking at Kamiyama with enough force to drag him out of bed and onto the floor, where he lands with a loud thump and a cry of pain - not that Honma seems to care. "We don't have time for you to lie around feeling sorry for yourself. Get some clothes on."
And with that, Honma turns on his heel and opens the door, stepping out to leave Kamiyama in a trembling heap on the cold floor. It's all too much for him to take; his body aches from what Honma has done and he's still shaking from the aftermath of such a powerful orgasm, barely even able to move. He watches Honma go with a soft whine, not wanting to be left alone, but feeling too helpless to speak; his mind is reeling with the confusion of his emotions, his need to be close to Honma again, yet at the same time fearing him for the pain which it causes - both physical and mental. He wants him, but at the same time he utterly terrifies him.
There is no time to be lost in such thoughts now, however. Now is the time for him to be MC Kamiyama once more. And perhaps, if he pleases Honma enough with a good performance, he will be rewarded...
“Yoda-san.” Honma nods to the older man as he steps out of the cell; he knows full well that he will have heard everything, and he doesn't care. Yoda has been with Honma's family for years, not quite a butler but a loyal servant nonetheless, and even now he remains with the family's only son as a retainer of sorts. Honma is in no doubt that he will do whatever he says, as he always has. “He's ready now. Take in his clothes and make sure he gets changed; we need to be in the dressing room in the next half hour.”
Yoda-san merely nods and smiles, his expression as calm and unreadable as ever, and he walks past Honma into the small cell carrying a black bundle in his arms – the outfit which Honma has chosen for MC Kamiyama. Honma smiles to himself as Yoda goes, not only from the warm, pleasant feeling of having his lusts so brutally sated, but also from the knowledge that soon his revenge will truly be under way. Soon, Kamiyama will know the truth.
Their story has begun.