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Broken Dreams

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“I'll take him from here.”

Honma Toshio prises a barely-conscious Kamiyama Satoru from Yoda-san's arms and guides him down the corridor towards the shower block, where he will be cleaned and changed before the filming of this evening's show. It's a particularly important episode tonight, at least as far as Saejima is concerned; the renowned fortune-teller Nokko-sensei will be the contestant, and there's a potential contract for her with Ginga TV if the episode goes well.

I suppose that all depends on how honest she decides to be with herself, Honma thinks. People who lie to themselves and run from their pasts don't deserve to be successful anyway.

Kamiyama gives a whimper as Honma bundles him into the shower room; it resembles the changing room of a gym more than anything else, an open tiled area with individual cubicles for showers along one wall. A pile of towels and Kamiyama's stage clothes lie on a row of benches in the middle of the room, ready for Kamiyama to change into once he is clean. There are already a couple of orderlies on hand when Honma arrives – it's usually down to them to wash Kamiyama and make sure he is dressed properly for filming, a task which Honma leaves them to do without him – and they appear to be surprised by Honma's presence, but he waves them away and asks for some privacy this time. Tonight, he'll be the one responsible for making sure MC Kamiyama is ready.

Placing Kamiyama on one of the benches in the middle of the room, Honma laughs softly to himself. His designs are turning out well so far; each episode has gone according to plan, his revenge slowly gaining shape as the pieces he has been manipulating over the past two years finally begin to come together. And at the centre of it all, the man sitting limply and helplessly before him.

“Come on, Kamiyama.” Honma tugs at the other man's shirt. “You know it's almost time. We need to get you dressed properly.”

Kamiyama moans softly as Honma begins to undress him, confused by the fact that it's this man attending to him. He's used to being cleaned and changed by the facility's staff, faceless orderlies who barely even speak to him as they wash and dress him; it's disorientating to have Honma doing it, and in some part of his mind Kamiyama asks himself why this is so. Is Honma attempting to be affectionate, or is he merely doing it to exert more power over him?

He remains compliant as Honma undresses him though, sluggishly raising his hands above his head so the other man can pull off his shirt, and he whimpers softly when Honma does so for the room is uncomfortably cold. He wraps his arms around himself and shivers, although if Honma even notices he doesn't say anything; he just continues to remove Kamiyama's clothes, taking a hold of the waistband of his loose white trousers and yanking them down, pulling them from Kamiyama's legs as he raises his feet. There's no tenderness or love in Honma's movements; he's treating this as just another task to be completed, just another step in his plan towards the realisation of his revenge.

At least, that's what Honma wants to believe. He tries not to stare too long at Kamiyama's naked skin, at the lines and curves of his body; he tries not to look at his pert, firm buttocks, at his beautiful legs, his thighs, his manhood... even when he's not erect his size is apparent, and Honma restrains himself from reaching out to touch between the other man's legs – at least, for now. Annoyed by what he sees as a distraction, Honma gives a low growl and ushers Kamiyama towards one of the showers, bundling him in so he's facing the wall, his bare back towards Honma, his naked backside facing him, those perfect, tight little buttocks in just the right position to be grabbed and parted...

He didn't mean to get excited. That's what Honma keeps telling himself as he moves forward to press his hardening length against Kamiyama's naked backside, his arousal obvious even through his trousers, moaning softly as he does so while his hands start to run eagerly across the skin of the other man's bare back. He didn't mean to get excited, but now that he is, he's going to make use of it. It wasn't just the sight of Kamiyama which wound him up; it wasn't hearing Kamiyama's screams from the cell as he approached it with Yoda-san, it wasn't seeing Kamiyama curled up in a helpless little ball by his bed; it wasn't the physical contact with Kamiyama, feeling the warmth of his body, the softness of his skin, the feel of his breathing, his scent...

It was all of these things. All of them, and more.

Irritated by this realisation – by what he regards as his own weakness – Honma growls as he fumbles with his belt, releasing the buckle with shaking fingers and tugging at the buttons of his trousers to free his arousal so that he can press it against Kamiyama's buttocks. He moans as he does so, the hot, smooth head of his length nudging eagerly at the other man's body, drawing a weak and scared whimper from Kamiyama's throat.

“Honma-san...”

“Stay still, Kamiyama. Do you want to get clean or not?”

But this has nothing to do with getting clean and they both know it, although Kamiyama knows better than to question Honma's authority. He trembles at the feel of the other man's hardness pressing against him, partly from fear of punishment but also from anticipation; there is very little happiness in his life, and when Honma pays him attention between filming each episode of the Quiz Show, it not only breaks up the cold monotony of his existence but also brings him pleasure the likes of which he has never known before. There's a part of him which dreads what might happen next, knowing there will be pain, but at the same time there's a part of him longing to feel Honma inside him again, knowing how it feels to be connected to somebody else, even if only for a short time.

Not even bothering to wait for a reply, Honma leans over with a growl of irritation and turns the shower on, the sudden blast of cold water drawing a cry of painful discomfort and surprise from Kamiyama. He reflexively tries to shift backwards, away from the blast, but Honma grabs him firmly and holds him in place. He'd be lying if he said he didn't find Kamiyama's unhappiness both satisfying and exciting, and he laughs softly to himself at the other man's squirming.

“Not hot enough for you?” Honma smirks, leaning over again and turning the dial slightly so the water will get warmer, although it will take a few moments for the temperature to adjust. He scowls though, because in doing so he manages to get his sleeve wet, and he pulls his arm back with a mutter of annoyance.

This isn't any good. If Honma carries on like this he's just going to get his clothing soaked, and the idea of that irritates him even more. Before he can stop to think about it too much – before he will allow himself to wonder whether it's a good idea or not – he's stepping away from the shower to strip off his jacket and shrug off his shirt, exposing his bare chest, and with a shudder of his own he has to reluctantly admit that Kamiyama was right to complain about how cold it is in here. Thankfully the water of the shower is warming up already, and Kamiyama remains standing where he is, although he is still murmuring softly to himself.

But Honma hasn't finished yet. The arousal which he initially felt at seeing Kamiyama's body has only heightened upon hearing the other man's pained whimpers, and he knows he won't be able to concentrate on the show tonight if his mind is clouded by illicit thoughts of Kamiyama; and so he reaches down to remove his boots before pulling down his trousers and kicking them off, too, a long, low moan escaping his throat as he completely frees his length, shoving his clothes aside with one foot before stepping closer to the shower once more.

It's the first time he's ever been completely naked with Kamiyama. Even when they've coupled before – even when they lay together in Kamiyama's bed for a while – Honma was fully-clothed while Kamiyama wore his shirt, part of his dominance lying in the fact that he stays dressed while Kamiyama must lay himself bare. But now...

“Honma-san...?”

Wondering why the other man is taking so long, Kamiyama turns around slowly, his eyes widening as he sees Honma standing there with nothing on; if the cold water of the shower hadn't kick-started him into fully-conscious awareness, then this sight most certainly would have done. There can be no doubt as to Honma's intentions – he's already felt his hardness against him, and every visit Honma makes to him now ends with some kind of sexual contact – but even so he blushes at the new sight of Honma standing naked behind him, unable to help himself from glancing down to see the man's hard arousal.

“Stay there, Kamiyama.” Honma's expression can only be described as predatory, his voice low and husky, as he moves back into position against the other man, his firm length resting against the curve of Kamiyama's buttocks. He gives a groan, allowing his fingers to reach out for Kamiyama's shoulders, stroking at his skin with a gentleness which seems completely at odds with his threatening behaviour. “You just stay right where you are...”

Then Honma's mouth is pressing against the back of Kamiyama's neck, his fingers moving from his bare shoulders to stroke and caress at his hair, his lips warm and welcome; the water from the shower flows over them both, running in rivulets down their naked skin, soaking their hair and slicking their glistening bodies together. His kisses are soft yet eager, hungry but also delicate; his touch is firm yet gentle, although his hardness remains against Kamiyama's backside, insistent and firm.

Honma's fingers continue to move across Kamiyama's shoulders for a few moments more, moving his hair out of the way so he can kiss at the back of the man's neck, but then they're travelling slowly down his back, following the delicious lines of his body as they make their way towards his waist. Even as he takes hold of Kamiyama's hips, Honma's lips continue to plant kisses across the other man's shoulders, his touch becoming more passionate now, more eager; one hand travels further still, parting Kamiyama's buttocks and allowing him to press himself against Kamiyama's tight entrance, hot and firm.

With a loud gasp, Kamiyama pushes back against Honma's presence there; his head falls back and he gives a wanton moan, indicating his need for what Honma wants to give. He's already placing his hands against the tiles on the wall, bracing himself for what he knows will happen next – but this time he isn't just preparing himself to tolerate it. No, he realises now that he actively welcomes it, his heart beating faster as he waits for Honma to take the lead.

He doesn't have to wait long. Honma is already wound up to frustration, his body taut with sexual tension, his fingers opening Kamiyama further as he pushes forwards with his length. He moves slowly but firmly, the water offering some lubrication as he slides himself inside Kamiyama's entrance, his hardness forcing the muscles to adjust and accept his presence.

“Kamiyama...”

Honma murmurs the other man's name as he enters him, firmly but gently thrusting the first inch of his length inside him, pushing his way inside his tight, hot body and giving him time to adjust to him once more; Kamiyama cries out, giving a pained gasp, although he doesn't attempt to push Honma away. He's learned by now that these couplings can be welcome, that the initial pain gives way to intense moments of pleasure, that at times he actually enjoys knowing how much happiness he can bring Honma by letting him use his body like this... and that he finds his own pleasure in return, when Honma touches him and brings him to completion.

Kamiyama's response is a plaintive whimper of both pain and pleasure, a plea for Honma to do more, to enter him further and give them what they both want; Honma purrs his approval, reading Kamiyama's moan as it was intended, and he shifts his hips forwards with a steady, measured pace, not stopping now until he has completely filled the other man with his hard arousal.

There's a gasp from Kamiyama as Honma buries himself, and he does at least give Kamiyama time to shift and adjust, time for his body to get used to him once more. There's time, too, to savour this new feeling of being completely naked with each other, to feel skin against skin, a new kind of intimacy which neither of them have ever felt before; for Kamiyama it's a reassurance, the warmth of their bodies reflecting the emotional warmth which he is beginning to realise might exist between them. For Honma, it would be a weakness if he weren't in control.

“Are you ready for me, Kamiyama?” he snarls, his hands gripping tightly onto the man's waist, his body already trembling with the lust which he can barely keep in check. “Tell me you're ready...”

“P-please... Honma-san...” Kamiyama pushes backwards with his hips, showing his desire to please, showing his own desire to couple with Honma once more. “I want you...”

Whether Honma actually believes Kamiyama's words or not, the mere fact that he is saying them is enough to make him smile and give a wicked little chuckle. He smirks as he pulls back, almost slipping completely from Kamiyama's body, but then he thrusts forward again, hard and fast, making Kamiyama cry out loudly as he slams back inside him with a growl. Again he stops for a few moments, letting Kamiyama take him, letting him feel him, but then he's pulling back and thrusting forwards again, beginning a slow yet brutal rhythm which brings enjoyment for them both.

Water splashes down about them as Honma increases his pace, his hands holding firmly onto Kamiyama as he begins to pound eagerly into him, their bodies moving together in a delicious meeting of dominant and submissive, of pleasure and pain; it's difficult for Kamiyama to keep his balance as Honma works him harder and harder but he does his best, not wanting to disappoint his partner by collapsing on him, not wanting to risk Honma's wrath by allowing his own weakness to spoil their coupling. If Honma even notices Kamiyama's efforts he says nothing, too busy focusing on his own pleasure to offer Kamiyama any support.

However, even as he bucks and thrusts against the other man, Honma can't help but notice how beautiful he is, even from behind. The way the water runs across his skin, following the shape of his naked body; the way he moves, smooth and sinuous, following his own movements with ease; the way his hair falls about his neck, even when it's soaked through and looking as tousled as it does right now... no, because it's soaked through and looking so tousled. It's a marked change from the way MC Kamiyama looks when he's on stage, well-dressed and perfectly made-up, and Honma realises that he likes both sides to the man – the smart stage persona as well as his true personality, the scared, unkempt boy whom he was kept captive for so long...

He's mine. All of him. Not just MC Kamiyama, but Kamiyama Satoru as well. I own him.

And with that sudden realisation comes a new, furious burst of passion, Honma's desire to utterly possess and tame all of Kamiyama manifesting itself with a determined series of hard, fast thrusts, each and every one burying his length deep within Kamiyama's body, drawing harsh, desperate cries from Kamiyama's throat.

“Honma! Honma-san! Honma-san!” The pain is not unsurprising, yet still it takes Kamiyama by surprise. He had expected to feel some discomfort, but this is more than he expected to take. Even so he refuses to stop, trying to take Honma as best he can, closing his eyes against the incredible discomfort and thrusting back against the other man with the loudest whimpers and moans he can manage. “Honma-san...”

Hearing Kamiyama say his name like that only heightens Honma's excitement, and he can feel himself already drawing close; he doesn't hold back now for even a single moment, thrusting furiously into Kamiyama's body, burying himself again and again as he feels his body winding tighter and tighter, the heat building between his legs, until that familiar wave of pleasure washes over him and suddenly he's crashing over the edge...

“Kamiyama!”

He calls out his partner's name just once, his back arching as he spends his essence inside him, thrusting once, twice, three times in his release; he continues to grip tightly onto Kamiyama as his orgasm takes him, his whole body shuddering with ecstasy, his legs trembling with the effort of staying on his feet. This was what he wanted from the moment he walked into this room; he knows that now. Perhaps Kamiyama knew that even before he did.

The feeling of Honma releasing inside him spurs Kamiyama towards his own climax, and he whines as he continues to push back against his captor. Will Honma even allow him his orgasm? Or will he keep Kamiyama in a state of aroused torture for the rest of the evening, forcing him to film the show whilst frustrated and unfulfilled? The mere thought of such a thing fills Kamiyama with dread, and he opens his mouth to beg and plead with Honma, to utterly humble himself in his need for completion... but this time, at least, Honma seems to show some mercy. Before he can even utter a single word he feels Honma's hand sliding its way between his thighs, his fingers closing about his own length, starting to stroke and touch at him firmly yet gently.

“You want it,” Honma breathes huskily, his forehead now resting against Kamiyama's shoulder, his body still shaking. It's not a question. “Don't say I never give you anything...”

Kamiyama's reply is a low murmur of acknowledgement, confirmation that Honma is right, that he wants him... needs him... perhaps even more than Honma could know. He whimpers and bucks into Honma's hand, savouring this closeness which they share, the physical intimacy which will be gone all too soon; he tries not to focus on that, but instead on the feel of Honma's long fingers pleasuring and exciting him, on his length still buried deep within his body, on the mess he can already feel leaking from his tight entrance to leave a sticky, messy trail down his legs, even though the water of the shower is already begin to wash it away.

“Honma-san...” He finds that he actually is genuinely grateful for Honma's affections, eager for his release, even feeling a surge of affection and joy that it's Honma pleasing him like this; he whimpers his desire as he moves against the other man, feeling his own climax building within him, his length firm and hard and throbbing within Honma's grip. He's close himself, although even as he works towards his orgasm he can't help but worry that Honma will suddenly stop out of spite, that even this small moment of happiness can't last, that he doesn't deserve to feel pleasure such as this – but his fears are unfounded, at least this time. Honma continues to slide his fingers over Kamiyama's length, his pace getting more eager, more determined, faster and faster until...

“Honma-san! Honma! Honma!”

Kamiyama hits his climax loudly and intensely, almost collapsing as the pleasure takes him; he shudders and trembles, shooting his essence messily against the tiles, staining Honma's fingers with his mess as he bucks and moans and cries out his release. Panting and gasping he falls forward, resting his forehead against the wall, whimpering helplessly as Honma finally lets go of him with a triumphant laugh.

“Good boy...”

They stay this way for a few moments, Honma collapsed against Kamiyama's back, his length still buried deep inside him although it's starting to lose its hardness; he begins to kiss at Kamiyama's shoulders again, his lips warm against his bare, wet skin, his fingers touching almost lovingly at his waist. There's a certain satisfaction to be had from bringing Kamiyama to his orgasm, a feeling of power and control knowing that he is the one responsible for his pleasure... or the denial of it. He smiles to himself, nuzzling Kamiyama gently, even sliding his arms around Kamiyama's waist to hold himself close against him in the semblance of a lovers' embrace.

“Misaki...”

Honma freezes suddenly. Did Kamiyama just say her name...?

“Misaki...”

Yes. Yes, he did. Honma's eyes narrow and he gives a low snarl, his whole body tensing despite the warmth which suffuses him from their frantic coupling. Is Kamiyama mocking him? Is he wishing it were Misaki's arms around him, and not Honma's? Is that why---

“Misaki...”

But before Honma can punish Kamiyama for what he sees as an unforgiveable slight, the other man suddenly collapses onto the floor of the shower, trembling uncontrollably as he slips from Honma's arms to curl up on the tiles, shivering and starting to weep.

“Misaki!”

He can feel the rain pelting down, feel the water running over his skin, feel his wet hair clinging to his face. He can feel his hands, slick with both water and blood, feel the cold metal beneath his fingers; he can see her now, see her body lying motionless at his feet. He can see the blood, smell the rain, taste the water running into his mouth... he can hear footsteps getting closer, somebody approaching him, and he turns around to see---

SMACK.

There's a loud slap as Honma's hand comes down hard against Kamiyama's cheek, the sudden pain shocking him into silence, if not normal consciousness; he looks up at Honma as if seeing him for the first time, as if a haze is only now lifting to reveal Honma's presence, although Kamiyama seems no less terrified because of it. Honma says nothing, although he really doesn't need to; his expression is enough to indicate his fury, the rise and fall of his shoulders betraying his barely-suppressed rage. Without a word he leans over and turns off the shower, the sudden absence of warm water flowing over Kamiyama's skin leaving him feeling more cold and exposed than ever.

It felt like the rain. The rain by the lake. The lake where I... where Misaki... Kamiyama chokes down another sob. That's why... that's why I remembered...

“I'm s-sorry, Honma-san...” Kamiyama draws himself into an even tighter ball, fearing more violence from Honma, fearing his fists. He knows that those hands which can be so gentle and loving can also be so unforgiving and cruel. “I'm sorry... I didn't want to...”

“Just get up.” Now Honma moves and speaks, grabbing roughly at Kamiyama's shoulders and forcibly hauling him to his feet, shoving him against the wall with a snarl. Why did Kamiyama have to choose that moment to suddenly start remembering? Of course Honma wants him to know the truth, eventually – but when he wants him to, not of his own volition. “Oh, you'll know the truth well enough, Kamiyama. I'll make sure of that."

Honma shoves him towards the benches with a sneer and Kamiyama stumbles towards the towels, barely even able to hold himself up as he starts to dry himself; Honma is far more composed, quickly drying his hair then the rest of his body, wasting no time in pulling on his clothes. Perhaps in future it might be entertaining to taunt Kamiyama with his nakedness, but there's no time for such things now. Not only that, but he's still furious that Kamiyama would ruin the mood by having such a badly-timed breakdown, and his anger shows as he starts to help Kamiyama put on his own clothes, his white shirt and his black tuxedo, not even caring now that they don't look as neat as they should. The pre-production and make-up team at the television studio can worry about that. After all, that's what they're there for.

...even so, that doesn't stop him from taking a moment to appreciate how good Kamiyama looks, even with his wet hair still a complete mess and his stage costume looking somewhat crumpled and unkempt.

And after the show, I get to undress him again if I want to. And I already know that I will.

That knowledge keeps Honma's mood in check, at least for now, although all semblance of affection has vanished. His passion having been spent, Honma's cold determination and need for revenge has cooled his lust for the present, although he knows it will surface again later. Filming the Quiz Show always does excite him, and it's better now that he has someone to take out his frustrations on. But that will have to wait for later.

When Honma opens the door of the shower room, Yoda-san is already waiting outside, as calm and as patient as ever. He raises an eyebrow at the sight of Honma's wet hair – it's obvious that he, too, has showered – but he says nothing, for it is not his place to judge or comment on what Honma Toshio decides to do.

“He's ready.” Honma practically shoves Kamiyama into Yoda-san's arms. “Let's go.”