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Broken Dreams

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Damn it, why had Takasugi decided to return to the studio just then with the filming equipment? She'd done so well tonight following Honma's instructions whilst walking around the educational institution Neo Arkadia, and then she'd had to go and almost ruin it all by stumbling across him and Yoda-san bundling Kamiyama into the car after his inevitable post-filming collapse. It's something which happens after every episode, something which Honma expects and which he and Yoda-san are well-prepared to deal with, but thus far they have managed to keep it a secret from the rest of the crew. There's no way Saejima would just let it slide – not that Honma would stop now, given that his plan is already so well under way - but it will cause added complications if she starts asking questions about Kamiyama's well-being. He just hopes Takasugi won't feel the need to tell her about it.

Well, Honma will have to worry about that in the morning. His main priority right now is returning Kamiyama to his cell, and as he climbs into the back seat he gives Yoda-san the instruction to drive, turning his back on Takasugi and making sure Kamiyama is at least buckled into his seatbelt. Then he sighs and sits back, congratulating himself on another successful episode, a smug grin making its way onto his face.

Today's episode meant something to him personally, as well as being a professional triumph – at least, he thinks so. If Saejima doubts that the viewers at home will have been on the edge of their seats seeing Takasugi's live coverage, then she really does have a thing or two to learn about the cruelty of reality TV. As for its personal meaning, well, shouldn't everybody respect their elder family members? Honma certainly respects his father in his own way, even if Saejima doesn't. It hasn't been easy growing up with the President of Ginga TV as a father, but he's certainly doing him proud when it comes to ensuring good viewing ratings, and he's already thinking of ways in which he can make the next episode even better...

Kamiyama gives a quiet moan, bringing Honma's thoughts back to the present moment. His little puppet has done well tonight, as ever, and he grins as he glances across to where Kamiyama sits, still dressed in his stage outfit, his head lolling against his chest. Honma almost feels a touch of pity for the man, and reaches out across the seat to place his hand over Kamiyama's own, his voice for once gentle and reassuring.

“Kamiyama... you did well tonight.”

“Honma...?” Kamiyama slowly looks up as if noticing Honma's presence for the first time, as if struggling to see him through a mental haze – which, of course he is – and he focuses his gaze, his voice small and uncertain. “Honma-san...?”

“I'm proud of you.” Honma's smile may be smug and patronising, but it is at least genuine. “You handled the show really well. You balanced Takasugi's live broadcast with the questions perfectly. And you looked...”

The last comment slips out before Honma can stop himself and he pauses mid-sentence, watching Kamiyama warily in case the other man noticed, but Kamiyama appears to be oblivious. How does he think Kamiyama looks? He certainly has an impressive stage presence, a charisma which even Honma cannot deny, and even though he is the one who has helped him to cultivate that charisma, he still finds himself in awe of it, more than he would have imagined. As for how he looks in that tuxedo... the one which he picked out for him... yes, he can see why Kamiyama has quickly been gaining a following of female fans. But he picked it because he knew other people would like it, didn't he? Not because he found it attractive himself. Not because he thought it accentuated Kamiyama's natural good looks, and his charm...

No, he's not going to get caught up in thinking about that. Kamiyama is a tool to him and nothing more. A tool to be used in order to gain his revenge, as well as being the very object of the revenge itself, and if he happens to use him as a convenient way in which to take out his sexual frustration as well, then so be it. But even as he recalls how he has taken advantage of Kamiyama he feels a sudden rush of arousal and excitement, a thrill of pleasure at how it felt to be with him, so physically close and so intimate; he remembers how it felt to have his length buried inside the warmth of Kamiyama's body, how it felt to have Kamiyama's lips wrapped about his hardness, how it felt to have his fingers gripping him firmly and bringing him to completion. It's the perfect combination of power and release, sexual gratification combined with absolute power over Kamiyama, and Honma gives a low moan as he realises that he is becoming excited again.

It's not just his memories of being with Kamiyama which arouse him, however. He also feels that rush of pleasure which comes from the completion of a good show, the knowledge that he has publicly humiliated and shamed somebody who deserved it, that thrill of arousal from knowing he has gained the upper hand over somebody who believed themselves to be above such recrimination. Against such judgement. Because no matter what he may have said to Saejima, that is exactly what this is; and whatever she might say, he is in a position to dole out that judgement. The fact that she doesn't even seem to remember his past sums up her arrogance. But it's not Saejima that he's thinking about now; it's Kamiyama... his beautiful little creation... his own personal plaything...

“Yoda-san... don't disturb us.” Honma utters the command to his retainer who glances at the rear mirror as he drives; his eyes meet Honma's own in the reflection there, and he nods in assent and understanding. Then he closes the partition between the front and back of the car, granting Honma some privacy with Kamiyama. That done, Honma turns his attention back to Kamiyama, who appears to have been oblivious to the entire exchange.

“Kamiyama.” Honma unbuckles his seatbelt and shifts closer to the other man with a grin, reaching out to place a hand upon his thigh. His mind is made up now; he's going to take out his excitement on Kamiyama again, and he's so wound up he can't even wait for them to get back to his cell in order to do so. “We're going to have some fun again, Kamiyama...”

Whilst Honma was lost within his own thoughts and issuing his orders to Yoda-san, Kamiyama appears to have retreated into his own world again. He flinches slightly when Honma touches him, looking up at the other man's face with a hint of fear in his expression, eyes widening at the predatory grin on Honma's face.


“Did you hear me? I said we're going to have some fun.”

Honma moves in slowly, reaching out to cup Kamiyama's chin in his hand, his slender fingers framing his mouth as he studies the man carefully. Were Kamiyama's eyes always that beautiful shade of brown, or is it just the dim light making them appear that way? Was his mouth always that inviting? Honma gives an irritable growl as he tries to shove these questions aside, leaning in to press his lips against Kamiyama's own, engaging him in a passionate, hungry kiss.

At first Kamiyama goes rigid, his entire body freezing up as Honma touches him, perhaps out of fear that Honma is angry with him or will punish him somehow; but as Honma continues to kiss him, his tongue sliding between his lips, Kamiyama feels himself responding in kind. Before he even knows what he's doing, one arm slides around Honma's back, holding him in place, and he gives a low moan in his throat as his tongue slides over Honma's own, the kiss becoming more than just a selfish display of Honma's needs and turning into an almost warm display of affection.

But why is he reacting in this way? Even Kamiyama is not entirely sure why he welcomes Honma's attentions so eagerly; the man has repeatedly abused and mistreated him, hurting him both mentally and physically, so why does he respond so easily to his touch now? Perhaps it is merely his need for physical closeness, his need to feel the touch of someone, anyone, even if that someone is the same man who causes him so much suffering. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't enjoyed the way Honma has touched him before, even if his approach was somewhat overbearing and forceful. Is it merely a need for sexual release, then? Or... is it something else? Honma-san is certainly not unattractive, in a dark and moody sort of way. Even so...


Honma pulls his mouth away to moan his name softly, his lips planting a trail of kisses along his neck, one of his hands sliding down between Kamiyama's legs to touch at the bulge within his trousers. He feels Kamiyama's body responding, his length growing hard, and he gives another moan as he gently squeezes at it, pleased to discover that the other man is also experiencing feelings of sexual desire. It's not that he cares whether Kamiyama enjoys himself while he is with him – at least, that's what he tells himself – but it will make him far easier to manipulate, far more enjoyable to toy with.

“You've done well today, Kamiyama... you deserve a little reward...”

With a low purr, Honma moves both of his hands down to Kamiyama's crotch, fiddling with his trousers until he manages to undo them – a task not made any easier by the gentle rocking of the car – and then he slips a hand down inside Kamiyama's underwear, taking a hold of him as he did before, feeling his length harden beneath his touch, firm and hot. Kamiyama responds with a moan of his own, bucking forwards into Honma's touch, and he turns his face to one side, covering it with an arm, as if ashamed to be enjoying such attentions.

“No... I want to see you...”

There's a slight edge to Honma's voice as he grabs Kamiyama's arm and pulls it away from his face; this draws a whimper from Kamiyama and causes Honma to soften his tone slightly.

“I want to see you,” he says again, in a way which he hopes is more reassuring as well as authoritative; the fingers of his other hand beginning to stroke at Kamiyama's hardness. “I want to see the look on your face as I touch you... I want to hear those delicious little noises you make...”

Honma's voice trails off as he leans in to kiss at Kamiyama again, his lips making their way from his mouth to his neck, trailing their way down towards his shoulder; with one hand he continues to touch at the man's arousal, the fingers of his other hand now moving to the collar of Kamiyama's shirt, deftly unfastening the clip of his bow tie and undoing the buttons in order to bare his soft, smooth skin. He plants a series of kisses at the base of Kamiyama's neck, more eager now, more hungry, a loud, low groan issuing from his throat as he tightens his grip.

“Tell me you want it...” He pulls his mouth away from Kamiyama's skin for long enough to utter the words, his voice low and husky, his eyes burning with desire. The feeling of power and control stokes his lust further, making his words sound almost like a growl. “Tell me you want me...”

“Honma-san...” Kamiyama whimpers, the sound sending a thrill of pleasure throughout Honma's entire body. He does want Honma to touch him like this... doesn't he? He savours the feeling of closeness, the rare chance to have skin-on-skin contact... to feel wanted... to feel happy... “Please, Honma-san... I... I want...”

What does Kamiyama want? He wants to remember his past, to know who he is; he wants to know Honma's true identity, and why the man holds so much power over him. At the same time he wants to please Honma, to make him happy, to make him proud – but right now, all he has to give is himself. He already knows that he can please Honma with his body, and it's not an entirely unpleasant experience although it leaves him feeling sore and used for some time afterwards... but even so it brings him comfort to know that he can be useful in this way, that he will be appreciated, even if only for a short time. And so yet again he submits to Honma's touch, giving in to the other man once more.

“I want you...”

“Of course you do.”

Honma laughs softly and releases his grip on Kamiyama's arousal, but it's only so he can take things further. With an eager purr he eases Kamiyama's trousers down slowly, giving a moan as he frees his length; Kamiyama stands firm and erect, the sight of him causing even Honma to blush, and he takes a moment to admire that part of his body before he grins and starts to touch at Kamiyama's inner thigh. His fingers dance across the bare skin as they make their way towards Kamiyama's crotch, touching teasingly at his balls, cupping them and stroking them; they twitch beneath his hand, drawing a groan from Honma before he reaches even further down to press his finger against Kamiyama's exposed entrance. He toys with him briefly, sliding his fingertips against him, before slipping a finger inside his body to prepare him for what is to happen next.

Kamiyama can't help but yelp at the sudden intrusion, even though the feeling is more than pleasant. He angles his body more towards Honma, giving the man better access to his most sensitive of places and crying out when Honma begins to slide his finger slowly in and out; there is a slight stab of pain but it's easily outmatched by the tingling feelings of excitement, the heightened arousal which washes over him. He even manages a disappointed whine as Honma removes his hand, pushing against him in a physical display of eagerness which is not entirely feigned despite his need to please.

"Hold still, Kamiyama." Honma smirks, his shaking hands struggling with his own trousers, but he finally manages to undo them and free his own hardness; he touches at himself for a few moments, glancing over at Kamiyama while he takes a hold of his arousal - also noting that Kamiyama is watching him in turn - and then he moves back into position over the other man, bracing himself against the car's seats as he spits onto a hand and slicks himself, then he presses the hot, smooth head of his length at Kamiyama's entrance with a lustful moan. He looks up at Kamiyama's face briefly, their eyes meeting, and then he smiles as he pushes forwards, entering Kamiyama's body with a loud groan.

“Honma-san!” Kamiyama whimpers as the other man enters him, his body going rigid with the sudden stabbing pain of penetration; Honma pauses for a moment, sensing Kamiyama's discomfort, giving his partner time to adjust once more to his presence before easing himself further inside. “Honma-san... please...”

"It's okay..." Honma soothes him, kissing at his neck, stroking at his hair, prepared to be slow and patient as long as he gets what he wants in the end. "I know it hurts... it's okay..."

Even as he speaks he pushes himself further inside, inch by inch, drinking in Kamiyama's whines and moans until he is completely buried inside him; and then he draws back only to thrust forwards again, forcing Kamiyama's body to adapt to him but being gentle in doing so, feeling his body accept him and smirking in response. He sets a slow pace to begin with, pulling back carefully before thrusting forwards again, but his movements are steady and measured, as much as they can be with the car occasionally lurching from side to side. He glances down to where their bodies meet, giving a loud moan at the sight of his length burying itself within Kamiyama, at the knowledge that the other man is still hard and ready, his erection standing proud as Honma pounds slowly into him. He smirks and reaches down to touch at Kamiyama's hardness, drawing a soft cry from him as his hand brushes against his length, and then his fingers close around him in a firm grip as he begins to stroke in time with the movement of his hips.

"Come for me, " he breathes, wanting to see the look on Kamiyama's face as pleasure overwhelms him, wanting to feel his tight, hot body shudder and clench about him. "Come for me, Kamiyama..."

By this point, it's not as though Kamiyama even needs much encouragement. Honma has already wound him up with his touches and kisses, with the way he is filling him, and he can already feel his body drawing close to its climax; it's a rare moment of clarity for Kamiyama and he finds himself suddenly fully aware of exactly where he is and what he is doing, knowing why he is doing it... and he realises he doesn't regret it. In this moment he is glad that Honma is coupling with him, that he can bring Honma pleasure in this way... that he is wanted... that he is happy...


And that clarity is suddenly shattered as he crashes over the edge into a passionate orgasm, his whole body trembling as he bucks forwards into Kamiyama's hand, releasing his essence in a sticky, messy trail over Honma's fingers and up the front of his shirt; his back arches and he cries out again and again, lost in his ecstasy, gripping tightly onto Honma while the other man works him through his climax. Honma continues to thrust inside him as he comes, burying himself within him, savouring the feeling of power he has over Kamiyama by making him respond like this. It's enough to bring Honma to the brink himself and he is barely able to hold on as he helps ride Kamiyama to completion, not allowing himself to let go until he finally feels Kamiyama's shudders subside - but when they do he loses his control, crying out Kamiyama's name as he releases his own essence inside Kamiyama's body until he is utterly, utterly spent.

Honma thrusts again, once, twice more, and then he collapses against Kamiyama, panting and breathless, his length still buried inside him as he moans loudly against the other man's shoulder. His breathing comes in ragged, shaky gasps, his hands still holding firmly onto Kamiyama, their bodies pressed tightly together as they both recover from their rough, frantic coupling. Honma smiles to himself, suffused in the warm afterglow of his orgasm, welcoming the feel of being cradled so closely against Kamiyama and wondering when he last felt so safe and secure...

Just then the car rolls to a halt, the sudden stop jarring Honma both physically and mentally; wondering what he is doing he suddenly pulls away from Kamiyama, his length slipping from Kamiyama's body in a single, slick movement, and he hurriedly stuffs himself back into his trousers before adjusting Kamiyama's clothes and tucking him back into his own. Kamiyama seems to have slipped back into a semi-conscious state, although he whimpers when Honma touches him, and Honma pauses for a moment, staring at his face; without even thinking he leans in to place a delicate kiss on Kamiyama's lips and strokes his fingers through his hair, buttoning up his shirt and straightening his bow tie. Only then does he tap on the partition which divides the front and the back of the car, and it opens to reveal Yoda-san's face in the rear-view mirror; again, Yoda-san nods in affirmation when he sees Honma, his expression bland yet attentive.

“We've arrived, Honma-san.”

“Good.” Honma doesn't even bother with a 'thank you', and if Yoda-san has noticed Honma's flushed cheeks and the quickness of his breathing – not to mention the heavy, musky scent of sex which now fills the back seat, the obvious stains up the front of Kamiyama's shirt – then he doesn't comment on it. It's not exactly as though Honma was making any effort to stay quiet, either. Yoda-san merely gets out of the car and opens the door on Kamiyama's side, waiting for Honma to exit the vehicle so that the two of them can lift him to his feet and escort him back to his cell.

“Be careful with him,” Honma mutters as he gets out, and Yoda-san raises an eyebrow. It's not like Honma to be so concerned with Kamiyama's well-being, but the older man remains quiet and nods, gently taking a hold of Kamiyama on one side as Honma supports him on the other. Between them they guide Kamiyama into the building and enter a small reception area where several medical personnel are waiting to take Kamiyama away, as they are after every show. Their wages are paid for out of Honma's salary; their names are not recorded anywhere on Ginga TV's lists of employees. As far as Saejima and the rest of the Quiz Show's staff are concerned, this facility and these people do not exist.

"Clean him up and change him. I need some time alone." Honma hands Kamiyama over to one of the medical personnel, leaving Yoda-san with them to oversee his care, before walking back outside on his own; his hands are jammed into the pockets of his jacket, his shoulders slumped and tense despite the sexual release he managed to achieve on the car journey here. It's getting cold now, a harsh breeze causing him to push the hair back from his eyes as he sighs heavily and glances up at the darkened sky.

Kamiyama is not the only trying to make sense of his emotions, trying to piece together his past. Honma, too, is confused by the way these sexual encounters keep making him feel. He tells himself that they're nothing more than a convenience, that using Kamiyama's body for his own pleasure is no different from eating when he is hungry, or sleeping when he is tired - but if that's the case, why does he find his mind wandering to thoughts of coupling with Kamiyama when he's lying alone in his own bed? Why does he keep staring at Kamiyama on the station monitors while they're on the air, wishing he could touch the man and almost counting down the minutes to when the broadcast ends so they can be in the same room again? It's nothing more than lust, surely - nothing more than his body becoming accustomed to the knowledge that he can help himself to Kamiyama whenever he wants some release. Yes, that must be it. After all, Kamiyama killed Misaki, and he can't afford to feel anything for Kamiyama other than hatred.

...can he?


Some time later, freshly showered and changed back into his plain white clothes, Kamiyama stands before the mirror in his cell and tries to piece together more broken pieces of his shattered mind. Somehow being intimate with Honma has jogged his memory, brought to the surface a jumble of names and images which seem to hold meaning; there's a bridge, and there's the shore of a lake, and it's raining, and there's a girl... that same girl he's seen before... and the girl has a name...


He says the word carefully, almost reverently, as though even voicing it could cause it to break; so focused is he on her name that he fails to notice Honma entering his cell, the other man taking a moment to merely watch and listen as Kamiyama speaks the name of the girl he once loved... the girl he still loves, even though she died over six years ago. He had thought that hearing the name from Kamiyama's lips would bring him some kind of satisfaction, but he realises now that he has been wrong.


He echoes the name himself as if testing how it feels, how it sounds; as though by saying it he could reclaim it from Kamiyama, cleanse it, keep it forever safe from the boy who murdered her.

“It's Misaki!” Kamiyama practically throws himself at Honma's feet, proud that he has finally been able to remember something, eager to prove to Honma that his memory is returning and to show him that he is trying hard after all. “I was with a person named Misaki!”

“That's right. You were with somebody named Misaki.” Honma crouches down to meet Kamiyama on the floor, draping his arms across the other man's shoulders, a smile upon his lips, and Kamiyama feels so proud. He remembered! He remembered, all by himself!

“Both of us fell into the water...” Kamiyama stumbles over the words as they fall from his mouth, keen to show Honma that it isn't just the girl's name he remembers, but his expression grows sad as he realises the terrible truth. “...but... but I was the only one who was saved...”

“Correct. You were the only one who was saved.” Honma's smile widens, and for a moment Kamiyama thinks he might be rewarded. “Only you...”

And then his demeanour changes completely, his smile contorting into a mask of rage, and Kamiyama chides himself for not seeing it sooner; Honma's smile hadn't been one of praise, it had been the dangerous, wicked smile of a predator, something he should have learned to recognise by now. Perhaps their intimacy in the car on the way back from the studio has affected him, blinded him to Honma's mood, which only makes Honma's sudden agression hurt even more.

“Only you were saved. Misaki died... because of you.” Honma's grip on Kamiyama tightens, his lip curling back into an even more hateful snarl, his expression and body language a far cry from the gentle, affectionate man which Kamiyama caught a brief glimpse of in he car earlier. “Pay for it. You have to pay for it!”

Kamiyama screams as Honma releases him, another wave of memories flooding his mind. He doesn't understand... he doesn't understand! He thought Honma would be proud of him for remembering! And then he falls to the floor clutching at his head as the images once more threaten to overwhelm him, slicing at his mind like fragments of broken glass, somehow parts of a whole which he cannot piece back together.

He deserves this, Honma tells himself. Kamiyama deserves to suffer like this. It's part of his judgement, part of his punishment, even if the man doesn't yet remember what he is being punished for. And yet... and yet he can't shake the niggling feeling of doubt which seems to be at the back of his mind, a memory of the shared closeness from their school days, something which tells him he is wrong for taking such pleasure in watching Kamiyama's pain. That he should pity him instead...

No. I don't have time for such emotional weakness. That kind of pity is for children, and we stopped being happy, carefree children a long, long time ago.

He's got what he wanted from Kamiyama, at least for now, and he tells himself that he feels no guilt or shame as he turns his back on the man who was once his childhood friend, leaving him alone once more.