Work Text:
The moment Aoba and Clear entered Oval Tower began a metaphorical spiral that continually lead farther downwards, and never up. Clear had been determined that, should the worst case scenario come to pass, he would give up his life to at least allow Aoba the chance to escape should they be unable to complete their mission. As it turns out, neither objective would be reached this day.
He knew he wouldn't be able to fight his 'brothers' on his own, but he had thought his decaying body would entice them enough to pick at it and allow Aoba to escape. How wrong he had been. He cursed the robotic body he had been given for what was certainly not the first time from his position on the cold, sterile floor of Toue's office.
Alpha sat on his back and had both of his wrists pinned with one of his own. There was no need to worry about being kicked, as Clear's downfall had been caused by the shattering of the supports in his shins. Alpha had already decided to ensure his inability to move by completely cutting off everything below the knee; Clear's legs lay in a heap of metal, flaking fake skin, and oil a bit away.
Both Alpha and Alpha 2 have been sneering insults at both him and Aoba for a while now, but only when the free hand ventured down to Clear's collarbone did he start paying attention, snapped to a mix of revulsion and irritation at the contact. He attempts to buck the other off him, but the inhumanly strong thighs keep him in place, and the only thing that happens from his struggling his a few pieces of his neck crack off.
Clear feels the weight shift on his wrists and his back, and suddenly he can feel the tickle of breath on his ear. He can hear Aoba growling from a few feet away, but he could not crane his head enough to see the other. Since Alpha 2 wasn't also antagonizing Clear, he guessed the other Alpha was restraining Aoba.
"That human... you cherish him, don't you, brother?" the Alpha breathed darkly into his ear. Clear stayed silent, and though he could still hear the rustle of struggle from out of his line of vision, it sounded like Aoba had ceased his growling to listen to the android's words. "But you can't really give him everything he needs, you know. Because you're one of us. Not human."
He can practically feel the condescension and mockery drip from the clone's mouth and into his ear. He wasn't sure if he shivered from that, or anger. It was probably anger, based on the roiling heat in his chest. It rose to a boiling point quickly at those words, and suddenly he couldn't stop his vocal chords. "You don't know anything about being human! Aoba has taught me so many things... he's taught me enough to make the part of me that really matters human, even with this body."
His shouting slowly quieted in intensity and by the time he finished speaking, his sentences came as nothing more than whispers. He wished he could look Aoba in the eyes right now, convey how true his words are in hope that it would reassure the man.
Both of the Alphas laughed, and the one holding Aoba let out a mocking croon. "Oh, how sweet. Isn't that just precious, Alpha? It makes me want to learn."
Alpha made a faux thoughtful humming, and Clear wanted to punch him. Those two were toying with them! Before he could even allow the idea of struggling to connect, let alone move along to his nerve centers, Alpha pushed all of his weight down on him again. "Yeah, Alpha 2, I understand what you mean. I beat Clear could teach us something. What do you think he should teach us?"
"He does seem pretty close to this little primate here. Really close. I bet he knows a lot about the human body, don't you think?"
He doesn't like where this is going. Clear's not entirely sure where exactly this was going, but it was somewhere he did not want it to go.
Alpha responded with enthusiasm, the sincerity of which was difficult to discern. "That's a great idea! After all," Alpha said, his pitch dropping into venom at this point,"I've never gotten to test out my sex drive. You'll teach me all about it, won't you, brother?"
Sometimes people use phrases that Clear doesn't particularly understand. However, the feeling of his heart dropping to his feet, while impossible, is something he feels applies to his current emotional state. They can't mean what he think they mean... can they? He knows that Grandpa installed a chip for moral conduct when he tinkered with him, but surely the newer models weren't so degenerate?
When a hand snuck down beneath his body to squeeze at his limp appendage, he began struggling again. Or, more accurately, he sent messages to his body to fight, and while some of them were ineffective due to the damage received from his disabled Auto Repair, the rest was rendered useless by the completely healthy android atop him. Thankfully, as quickly as it arrived, the hand left.
"But you know... I don't think he'll need all these extra parts to instruct us."
The next few minutes went by in a blur for Clear - a blur full of blinding, white pain and black oil, interspersed by chunks of machine missing from their respectful places. He was rudely jolted away from the precipice of unconsciousness by a surge of electricity through his frame. He didn't allow himself to look, at first, but that didn't help when he finally did see.
His arms were torn out at the shoulder. They had not been disconnected, a process that while painful if active, would leave the parts undamaged. From what he could see of the stumps, they had been cut to frailty and then wrenched and torn away from his body. He felt weak just looking at it, although the amount of oil that had been lost wasn't helping. But he was no longer losing oil. The ends of the valves that circulated it were burnt.... ah, that was the electricity surge, then.
He wondered if his disjointed thoughts were due to faulty programming or his blooming humanity.
Perhaps it was due to this that he hadn't noticed when his jacket and shirt had been removed. What was that muffled sound? Oh, that sounded like Aoba... Alpha 2 must have gagged him. Hands running down his back. Aoba sounded upset. He wished he could help him, but he didn't have arms anymore - or legs, for that matter. He was probably a sorry sight.
Fingers reached the pink buds on his chest and began to play with him, and he was suddenly glad that Aoba couldn't see him. It must disgust the other to watch this, but it would probably be even worse that Clear was about to cry. His eyes were hot, hot like life, but suddenly this type of life wasn't as comforting as it used to be. It burned, and he fought it, wiggling his useless torso in an attempt to escape. All he got for his efforts was his face slammed nice and hard into the concrete.
He groaned, and he could feel warm liquid trickling onto his lip from his nose. He figures that from the oil of his abbreviated limbs, his nose, and the bits that are slowly breaking away, he's probably little more than a giant stain right now. That's about what Alpha is making him feel like, smearing his invisible mark on Clear's pale skin with his filthy hands.
Aoba is still making noise, and it only heightens Clear's despair. Aoba didn't do anything to have to see this. It sounds as if the other has stopped yelling with anger from behind whatever he's been gagged with and has instead fallen into pleading. The thought hurt, and it made his breath catch in his throat.
Alpha's hands finally - horribly - finally dragged across where skin disappeared beneath layers of cloth.
Clear has never felt sick before. His body automatically converts whatever's in his belly to energy, and having a mechanical body wards away illness. But when those fingers slowly, terribly slowly, work the button and fly to bare his body further, he feels as if all of his internal workings are going to come spilling out of his mouth. His pants are pulled off of him slowly, and he can't do anything but allow it. He can't stop the fingers from dipping into his waistband and rubbing just above and around his most sensitive areas. He's disgusted in himself, as it seems that he can't even control his own body to keep it from finding the touches pleasant.
He can't make that, what just twisted the most heart wrenching sob out of Aoba's throat, disappear. He didn't even notice that he had begun to cry until he was suddenly caught breathless by his own sobs and began to shake. For a moment, everything stood still, which Clear was both simultaneously glad for and upset by, in that now there would be no rustling movements to distract from his shame.
Suddenly, there was a hand pulling him up by his hair, and he grimaced at the strain it put on his body. When he focused his eyes, the world stopped for a moment.
He wasn't sure whether it had just been a strange angle that had prevented him from seeing Aoba earlier, or if Alpha 2 had moved them closer, but now he could look forward and meet Aoba's eyes a few feet away. His head shook from side to side in an attempt to look away, but stopped when he felt more pieces of his neck crack away. His metal frame was exposed from his throat all the way down to the collarbone by now. Looking up, he saw that he wasn't the only one crying, and felt despair because of it. He was causing Aoba pain just at the sight of him, and he couldn't make that pain go away.
So he did the only thing he could think of to do with his mangled body, and he begged. He pleaded with their captors, bargained, and yet the only thing to change was that the ever present condescending smirks grew marginally wider. He would endure eternal torment, if only it meant that Aoba would be spared...!
Fat, ugly tears rolled down his cheeks and leaked into his exposed skeleton, where it soaked into delicate electrical parts and caused him shocks of pain. The Alphas remained silent, but the one currently holding Clear up by the hair divested him of his remaining clothes with his free hand. Suddenly, a flicker of rage glimmered in Aoba's eyes, and he once again yelled from behind the cloth that had been shoved in his mouth. When the warm, robotic hand reached down once again to press against sensitive areas, Clear shut his eyes. He couldn't bear to see anymore of Aoba's pain.
Already, it felt as if his metaphorical heart was going to shatter into a thousand pieces. His sex drive wasn't controllable, as it appeared that the Alpha's drives were, and when a hand that was not his own began to stroke up and down in ways he'd never thought of doing himself, he wanted to fall into pieces himself. If he were to ever have any sexual contact, he wanted it to be with Aoba. He wanted Aoba to teach these things to him.
A quiet sob escaped him when Alpha's fingers reached the head of his cock. It was something he'd never felt before, a first, but... it wasn't with Aoba. It was wonderful, but it was disgusting.
"I'm sorry, Aoba..."
His voice was barely a whisper, little more than breath shaped into words. He hoped that Aoba understood, because he didn't think he'd be able to speak past the emotional blockage in his throat. He felt like if he opened his mouth, he would scream, or maybe sob, or, even worse, he might even moan.
He bit hard into his own lip as the pace increased, causing a shred of it to fall away. Oil slips down his face from the wound, and he grimaces when he feels something soft then press against his lips. More tears mingle with the black liquid, leaving his face a wet mess. He tried not to pay attention to it, to anything, but in the end his efforts somehow caused him to inadvertently focus on the ministrations being forced unto him.
It was disgusting, humiliating, painful, and good. The electric numbing sensation that had begun to fill his lower half was slipping quietly through his veins to overtake his entire body and leave him even more helpless in its wake. He'd never felt pleasure so potent, and it was wonderful - filthy - and he wanted it to stop. The hand moved rhythmically, which allowed him to grow used to and fight against the pleasure the strokes offered, until suddenly Alpha would do something different to throw him off and bring the tide of pleasure higher. A tight squeeze at the base, a fingertip dragging into the slit at the tip, a warm hand moving down to cup his balls...
It was building, higher and higher, and he was faintly reminded of the time he'd watched a bird fly straight up into the air, only to be caught by a hawk. He squirmed in the grip of his clone, and he was ashamed to realize that he wasn't sure if he was trying to get away or get closer. It was so good, as if someone had taken a syringe full of molten endorphins and injected him straight in the heart, but he wanted....
"Aoba!"
He couldn't stop the name from running out of his lips in a pleasured gasp. He wanted Aoba to be doing this to him; he bets that Aoba's hand would be soft from his time working at Heibon, with the added comfort of just so much warmth. His excitement peaked at the thought, and Clear found himself teetering at the edge of a terrifying, exhilarating precipice, finally ready to take the dive after so much indecision.
And then it stopped.
An unsatisfied wail popped out of Clear's throat unbidden, followed by a chuckle from in front of him. It took a moment to register who the chuckle had come from and why. Alpha 2 was laughing at him, because...
He looked Aoba, but the other's expression was different this time. His face was flushed and his eyebrows were drawn together and slightly down. An expression of mixed rage and... well, Clear wasn't too good with reading people. For a moment he thought it was arousal, but he supposes it was equally as likely to be despair. He understands that, after all.
Shame washes over Clear in crushing waves, but his inner monologue of self loathing is cut off by Alpha 2's voice murmuring lowly into Aoba's ear, while staring directly at Clear.
"Did you see that, Aoba? How much you've rubbed off on him... Now he's got just as little control as you humans, no better than an animal run by its instincts."
The same voice continued to speak, but this time it was from Alpha, who, from what he could see, was looking at Aoba now.
"How he moaned and cried under my touch. Beneath my hands. And yet... he still called out for you."
"It's so very rude to give credit to someone who can't even touch you, brother. I think that you need to be punished."
Aoba's eyes widened, and before Clear had a chance to mull over the words, his hair was released and he was shoved roughly onto his back. He was horrified at the sight above him. Alpha kneeled above his prone form, and there was no possible way for him to cover himself. He was prone beneath the other, and sticking out from the crisp, white line of his pants was Alpha's hard cock, which was pressed against his entrance. He barely had the energy to scream.
All of a sudden, it was as if a core of hot, unyielding metal pierced into his insides, and he slammed his head back into the ground reflexively. It was all burning, molten pain and oil, and he was pretty sure that he'd just cracked open the covering in the back of his skull but he didn't care because it hurt.
Hips slammed into his own, bringing the irrational fear into him that the length inside of him was going to rip apart his innards and kill him - which wouldn't matter, because he's pretty sure he's going to die anyways. For some reason, his fear, pain, and the feeling of violation mixed together to form a desire. It was a simple, sweet, chaste one and his traitorous vocal chords once again betrayed his wishes to stay silent by calling out Aoba's name in a choked cry.
The pace was unrelenting and agonizing, and Clear was terrified that it was never going to end. Alpha's calm, taunting face never once changed as if he were in the throes of pleasure. Clear shut his eyes to it all. He wanted it to end. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt!
Merciless hands grabbed onto his hips an pulled him down onto the cock in his body even harder, and suddenly all the sobs that he'd kept back erupted from his throat in an uncontrollable mess. He cried, screamed, and begged until his throat was hoarse and he was fairly certain his vocal chords were damaged. Damaged, like the rest of him. Damaged like his abandoned limbs, his cracked head, torn lip, missing chunks of shoulder and neck, pillaged body, and even his heart. His wounds pulsed in tandem with the beating of the organ that pushed oil through his body, and it felt like any more and it would simply stop.
It took 20 minutes of the continuous torture for Clear to finally give up. It was obvious when it had happened, as he suddenly went quiet, and his eyes went glassy. They were not the gray of a non functioning android, but instead of a self imposed surrender. Both Alphas smiled cruelly, and Aoba had closed his puffy eyes long ago, unable to witness the violation of someone so dear to him.
The Alphas were created as tools for breaking people, and they knew how to do their job well. Pain was their favored device, but its opposite worked just as well in certain situations.
Alpha gradually slowed down his brutal thrusting, which had become smooth with oil slick, and skittered his hand down to play with the limp cock beneath him. The feeling of a hand on his intimates did not make Clear stir, but this was to be expected. It took a few minutes of pumping at the hard length to get so much as a grimace out of Clear, and that was when Alpha angled his hips into the appropriate angle to strike the pleasure center. That made Clear jolt, and his eyes regained their usual vibrancy while his body bent into the thrust of its own volition.
Alpha quickened his pace again, ensuring that every single thrust hit that spot and he continued his ministrations on Clear's member at a matching pace. Soon, Clear was wiggling beneath him, unable to connect thoughts and body together. All he could think of is that the pain was gone, replaced with delirious, blinding pleasure and he didn't stop to think why. He just wanted more, more, and he called out for it as loud as he could until the feeling left his voice as nothing more than a sweetened whisper.
He was pleasantly surprised for his wish to be granted. The pace sped up and the thrusts came harder into his pleasure spot while the hand on his cock offered sweet friction. Yet, when he looked up to the face above him, he was struck with a sense of wrongness. It was so good, but it wasn't right. The hair was too short, and it should be blue to contrast a pair of amber eyes. These eyes were pink, a cold pink full of malice as opposed to sweet gold. He shut his eyes and called out to the one he wanted, even as the speed and pressure increased until his head was knocking into the concrete with every thrust.
The pleasure was rising in tidal waves, yet beneath those waters lurked the shadows of guilt, regret, and a deep inner pain. None of that stopped it, though. Clear was rendered into a mess capable of only gasping sweetly and whispering Aoba's name over and over again. He bit into the remnants of his lip, feeling the weak flesh construct tear more, but the pain only added to the blaze inside of him.
Then, quietly, he heard it. It was muffled behind a gag and so the sound was distorted, but he knew the word all the same. From Aoba's voice, Clear's name was spoken.
And that was all it took to push him over the edge. His spine bent beneath the pressure of it, and his voice was sweet and high, warbling out a melody of his pleasure. His vision spotted and he could hear a ringing in his ears, but he could still feel the thrusts that rocked his body and drew out the pleasure even more, slowing down with the intensity of it until finally it all stopped.
Everything was quiet, for just a moment. Clear's breaths were slow and even as opposed to his earlier ragged panting, and they barely made noise. His body and mind were pleasantly numb, up until Alpha extracted his soft cock from Clear's entrance. Liquid dribbled out of his hole, and without arms, he didn't have the leverage to see if it was artificial semen or oil. He didn't think he wanted to know anyways.
All in a rush, he realized exactly how shameless he'd been but a minute ago, how selfish. He'd given in and given up, even though Aoba was right there and watching. He'd needed to be strong for Aoba, and he'd failed.
The next breath he took was ragged with tears, and that was when he noticed how truly wrecked he was. He could feel many of his internal mechanisms malfunctioning on top of those that had already shut down. His motion control center was among them, slowly sapping away his ability to move. He panicked and the race of adrenaline shot through him, but he couldn't do anything with it. It merely fueled his turbid emotions, and more tears slid down his wet, crumbling face to interfere with more electronics.
He was shutting down, and he couldn't do anything to stop it.
He tried to call out to Aoba, but his throat wouldn't work. It felt like his vocal processors were broken, probably from all of his screaming. He turned his head as quickly as he could, which was very delayed, and could only look on in terror at the sight before him.
Aoba's face was drawn in pain and his skin was terribly pale. It looked like he had a headache, and Clear desperately wished he could reach out a hand and wipe that pain away. Tears were running in an unrelenting stream down his face, and his closed eyes were still obviously puffy. Yet, the most haunting thing about it all was the look of defeat and acceptance on the young man's face.
Aoba had given up, and it was all because Clear wasn't strong enough.
His emotional circuit overloaded, and with that, Clear shut down.