Gloria Victis

Evermist! THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!! I must say, I have missed your lovely words of encouragement since I've been away so I'm ecstatic that you like this! The sequel is coming. Almost finished, all but the ending. I needed to be sure that's where I wanted to go with it before I finished so I took a little break.

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CHAPTER 2
KILL ME QUICK

Mello had been awake for several hours, remaining as quiet as he could while trying to come up with a plan of escape. The first thing he noticed when he woke was that whatever he was currently being drugged with seemed to be coming in smaller doses, or that his body was becoming used to it. His mind was clearer, his eyes more focused, though his limbs still felt weak and ached terribly. Not that that mattered, since he was still restrained. The skin at his wrists and ankles was rubbed raw where he had struggled against them. His arms hurt from being in the awkward position above his head for so long.

The light had been turned back on some time while he slept. There were now a few more items in the area; a table, for one, another lamp beside the bed, even a television. There was also a cross hanging on the wall opposite him. The blond did not wish to think about the significance of the last, though it did cause him to think of L yet again. No doubt there was yet another similarity between him and Mello's captor. B had discussed his belief in sciences over 'myth' during the one and only class he had taught the children. L was also opposed to organized religion of any kind; it was not a topic the couple discussed. Unlike some other members of his faith, Mello did not let this fact come between them. It was a god given right to choose whatever spiritual path was most suitable for the individual, he understood this.

Mello attempted to feign unconsciousness yet again as he heard footsteps coming his way. He couldn't bear to see the face of the imposter, especially not in the presence of the holy item that decorated the room. "Mello's breathing pattern is incongruent to that of one sleeping. Good evening my love."

Though it was still impossible to measure time exactly, it was a slight comfort to at least know that it was evening. Though, of course it was. Beyond rarely appeared to anyone during the daytime hours after all. Whenever he was in the room, the blond knew that it was at least after sundown. "How long have I been here?"

The kidnapper chewed on his thumb, black eyes turning towards the cross on the wall. It was like watching the devil in the house of god, though the demon ought to be shrinking away from the symbol, and instead appeared completely fascinated with it. He stared at the cross for several minutes before finally speaking. "It is Sunday. That much should be obvious. Since Mello was not able to attend his holy services, I thought that this might be a welcome substitute." B made his way to the bed, falling to his knees near the head of it. Their faces were only inches apart, black eyes curiously peering into blue. "Are you pleased, my love?"

"Pleased with you mocking my religion?" Beyond laughed. "This is no church. This is hell." The kidnapper's eyes narrowed, his face fell. As quickly as he had appeared, he was gone again.

"Forgive me, Mello. I have never understood your beliefs, though I wish to." BB was slouched over the bed again, his arms behind his back. "The part that has always perplexed me the most, though alternately intrigued me, is the sacrifice that your Christ made. The suffering that he experiences at the end of tale, the selfless acts." B brought one arm out from behind his back, throwing the covers off the bed, exposing Mello's thin, nearly nude form. The blond struggled against his restraints, struggled against the fearful tears yet again. He would not show weakness, not now, not even when he suspected what might be in his captor's other hand. "It must have been horrifically painful." Beyond's other hand emerged, a scalpel glinting in the dim light. Mello kept his eyes focused on the cross hanging on the wall. It had been made to show the five wounds of Christ, bright red paint on the man's feet, palms, and lower abdomen. "It is said that he suffered for all the sinners of the past, present, and future. Would anyone go through such a thing, for even one soul? Would you yourself endure such a thing for someone you loved?"

Where was he going with this? Again Mello wondered about the safety of his loved ones back at home. He had not been able to come up with a reason for being the sole prisoner in this twisted game. Was B hiding one of his friends somewhere? Was he hurting Watari, or Matt? Near? L? He would do anything to save someone else from this torture, not just because of his religious duty, or even because it would be the right thing to do, but because he couldn't bear another's suffering when his own might save it.

"Yes."

"Such conviction in that one word. I admire it. But, it is only in theory that you respond in the affirmative." Mello's eyes squeezed shut, he silently prayed for the safety of his loved ones, then himself. B kissed his way down the blonde's exposed thigh, his calf, the blade in his hand hovering mere centimeters above his flesh. He couldn't help but cry out when he felt the first cut, in the top of one of his feet. He felt the blood trickle out, dripping down to stain the sheets underneath him. "There is still time to retract it. Would you still do it? Still suffer to save the life of another?"

It was only a game, Mello reminded himself. He would already be dead otherwise. Even so, his answer would not change. If he was going to die today, or soon after, if it meant saving another, he would do it. "Yes." The drugs still in his system did little to dull the pain, the next cut definitely felt a little deeper. The blond opened his eyes in time to see the blood well up. He began to mumble his prayers out loud, watching in horror as Beyond bent to lick at first one, then the other.

"I believe you." Black eyes tilted up again, seeming to stare straight through Mello. There was a look of absolute disgust on B's face, like the very idea of self-sacrifice might make him physically ill. Mello could feel his own stomach jerking, could taste the bile coming up his throat, when the expression on his captor's face changed again. He was looking at the teen the same way L eyed a bowl of sugared berries, like he knew just how sweet they were, like he wanted to devour them as quickly as possible. Mello could see a drop of his own blood at the corner of B's lip, and when the older man noticed him looking, his tongue darted out to lick it away.

Beyond's hand wrapped around Mello's wrist. The blond had closed his hand into a fist, anticipating what was to come next. He struggled to keep his fingers closed, even as B's thumb dug into a pressure point, making the tips of those fingers quickly go numb. They were pried apart, one by one, the blond jerking and thrashing on the bed. B slashed into his palm, once, twice, a third time, the lines criss-crossing, the wound opening further than the last two. "Oh, god. Please, no." He had to be strong. Had to. There was a chance that this was a test, that if he failed then someone else might have to be in his place. But the blade was sharp, the blood warm and thick, pooling up in his hand, dripping down over his wrist only to be caught in the brunette's mouth again.

"I am disappointed in Mello. Does he think his god begged for life? Or did he bravely defy his own pain so that others might live? It is only mind over matter." The other hand was cut. Mello couldn't look anymore. He squeezed his eyes shut, slowed his breathing, silently prayed again. B's free hand went to rest on the teen's stomach. "Mello. Please stay with me. Pay attention. I want to understand Mello's beliefs. I know very little of this subject. Think of me as a student. The first four wounds of Christ were nails into the feet and hands, correct?" The blond nodded. "What was the last?" When the teen gave no response, B slapped him, the impact hard enough that his neck, stiff from lying in the same position for so long, made several loud popping sounds. Mello feared for a few terrifying seconds that the force might have broken something, but he was still able to turn his head, could feel his extremities. "Again, what was the last?"

"He was stabbed with a spear, to make certain that he had died." Mello opened his eyes in time to see his captor stand, arm held high above his head, scalpel catching the light, wicked sharp and sparkling. It stayed there for what felt like an eternity, before sailing down to plunge into his abdomen. B released his tool, looking delighted as it stood up, stuck in the blonde's flesh, just above his hipbone. He bent to kiss the area around the blade, to run his fingers from Mello's chest down, ending just under the hip, stroking back up again. The teen took a deep breath, tensing in anticipation of the pain to come. The endorphins were kicking in; he felt light headed, faintly sick. He held his breath, managed to only gasp as B's hand wrapped around the handle of the blade, before yanking it back out. Mello's skin protested, made a sickening wet sound when the scalpel was pulled out.

Blood gushed from the wound in Mello's stomach, the deepest of the five pouring out in waves. B's hands drifted through it, wiping it away, exposing the gaping mouth of the incision before it welled up again. The kidnapper ran his hands over his plain white shirt, giggling at the smeared fingerprints. He licked his hands clean, then plunged them into the mess again.

"You've been very brave, my love. Mello's capacity for kindness is as overwhelming as his beauty. He is a worthy partner for myself. I just knew it." There was no doubt in it now; the blond could the redness in B's irises spreading, until they were a deep crimson. Tears welled up in Mello's eyes, falling over his cheeks. B wiped at them with the hem of his sleeve, smearing blood on the teen's lips. Mello couldn't stop himself from crying, not because it hurt, or because he was scared, but because now he knew why he was here. There was never any intent to kill him. He would be trapped here, with this imposter of his lover, until he was no longer of interest. Since the only thing that ever seemed to keep Beyond's attention was pain and suffering, and there were so many ways to keep a victim alive, to continue with the torture, this could be a very long time. He prayed for death, feeling guilty that he would rather leave this earth now than even see L one last time. He just wanted it to end.

Just as he prayed that god would help L forgive him for these thoughts, forgive him for leaving him when he had long ago promised that he never would, a familiar ring tone could be heard from outside the room. It had happened before, B had left to answer a call, then come back and refused to tell the teen who it had been, though there were very few who would be contacting him this way. It had given him hope once before, but now only made his sorrow that much worse. He didn't want anyone to be waiting for him anymore, didn't want anyone hoping that he would be returned home safely, because he couldn't bear to look anyone else in the eyes ever again. It had been his own foolishness that had gotten him caught, and now he alone had to pay the price. They would all be better off to just forget about him.

For once, Beyond was returning with the cell phone in hand. "If you must," his voice low, tense. "Though I do not believe that he wishes to speak with you." The phone was held up to Mello's ear, the blond holding back his sobs, trying to breathe as quietly as he could. "Say hello, Mello." The teen shook his head, no, he would not. All he wanted was to pass out, prayed that he be left alone, maybe that B would leave him to bleed to death.

The voice on the other end was frantic, panicking, saying his name over and over, begging for just one word to know that he was all right. Still, the boy refused to speak, was even holding his breath now. It was L. L was all right. He was right there. That was enough. Mello didn't need to speak with him, didn't want to speak with him. What could he possibly say? L would ask what had happened, then he would know that it was Mello's fault. He would be angry. Even if he weren’t, he would look for him. B would not part with him now, that was obvious.

"Mello? Love? Are you there? Are you all right? What has he done to you? Please, answer me. Just say you're all right. It's me, it's L. I'm right here. You're alright, sweetheart." There were several more voices in the background. Mello had to hold back his sobs when he heard his best friend, Matt, and Watari, who was more a father than whoever had been his biological parent. B watched curiously from his perch in a chair next to the bed, gesturing for Mello to speak up, seeming more exasperated with each second that Mello only laid there, tears falling silently. Finally, his captor stood, his eyes narrowing into slits, hovering over the teen. L was still begging for any word when B laid his hand over the incision in Mello's stomach, then plunged a finger into the wound. The blond screamed, feeling his skin tear, his nerve endings screaming at the intrusion. He saw his captor stare at the knife that had been carelessly tossed to the floor, and he screamed again.

"No! Please, no." Over the phone, L was screaming, Mello, Mihael Keehl, answer. He pleaded with the boy, raged at BB, swore justice and vengeance and death if his love wasn't returned the way he had left him. If anything happened to Mello, Beyond was surely dead. There would be no judge, no trial, not even a proper execution. L would tear him limb from limb with his bare hands. He swore it, promised Mello that he would avenge whatever was transpiring. The blond didn't know whom he was asking, as he whispered 'please' again and again. Please L, save me. Please, don't come for me. Please, Beyond kill me now. Someone just stop this.

"I believe that is all the response you need. Mello does not wish to speak with anyone. He is happy here. He is safe here. He is mine now. Leave us be." Beyond laughed. "Empty threats. Good evening, my friend. Pleasant dreams." L's violent tirade was cut off mid sentence, as B clicked the phone shut. "They do not understand. No matter. We can not be separated now, so there is no need for Mello's tears." Beyond brushed back strands of hair from the blonde's forehead, kissing him. The teen turned his head away, but the brunette held his chin, kissing his lips, even when the boy bit into B's bottom lip, holding on until his teeth connected through the thick flesh. This only seemed to spur his captor on, who forced his tongue into Mello's mouth. "There is no reason to struggle. Nothing for Mello to fear in this place. He is safe."

It took over an hour to calm the detective, and in the end, he’d had to be sedated to prevent further harm to himself or his surroundings. He screamed and cried and threw things, not allowing anyone close, not even Watari until every member of their infirmary staff answered the call to subdue him. Once they had him down, the doctors and nurses strapped him to his bed. No one wanted to chance a repeat performance and though it pained Watari to see his surrogate child like that, he had to agree that it was for the best. As long as Mello was missing, L would be unpredictable.

Suddenly, the old man wished he hadn’t allowed him to take so many martial arts classes as a child…

When L finally woke several hours later, Watari was there, reading by his bed, looking disheveled and tired but managed to smile as his child turned his head though it quickly disappeared when the detective spoke. “Where is Mello?” he asked, his voice hoarse and drowsy from screaming and all the drugs they’d been forced to pump into his system.

“Still missing, my child but please try to remain calm this time.”

L tried to stretch, realized he couldn’t then tested his bindings and gave Watari a dirty look like the one the old man always received when he’d neglected to put enough sugar in his young charge’s tea. “Why am I being restrained?”

“You gave the doctors a difficult time after your conversation with B. They thought it best. Once you’ve managed to prove that you can keep your emotions under control, I’m sure you’ll be released.”

“They’ll release me now if they know what’s good for them…” Watari smiled and stood to loosen the restraints himself, not wishing to anger the boy any more that he already was. It was usually best to just let L have his way and he supposed he only had himself to blame for that. He was always such a sucker when it came to his child. Or any child, for that matter. That’s why Roger was there. To be the disciplinarian. If Watari were in charge, there would be chaos at Wammy’s house because he just couldn’t bring himself to scold the adorable little orphans in his care. “I want him back, Watari. He’s mine, and I want him back.”

"We all want him back, L, but your irrational behavior was getting us nowhere. I have all the faith in the world that you are able to solve any case put before you, but you must remain clear-headed to do so. I already have some of the greatest minds in the institution hard at work tracking our Mello down. We have searched his room, while you were, ahem, resting, though regretfully we have found few clues there. I was waiting for you to calm, so that we could search B's room."

Watari had been about to go through the area himself, but could barely bring himself to set foot in it alone. He had first asked Near to join him, but the child had made an excuse about going through Mello's again. It was obvious that he felt the same unease as Watari had there. Matt had bravely volunteered, had begun digging through Beyond's belongings, only to run from the room, looking slightly sick. Somewhere under a pile of clothing and books, he had uncovered several mason jars full of clear liquid and well-preserved corpses of small animals. A case could already be made to have Beyond sent to prison for the remainder of his life, Watari and the redheaded teenager had unearthed what looked to be parts of a human being in one of those jars.

L was picking at a band-aid on the inside of his elbow, where a shot had been administered to subdue him, while he listened to his caretaker. The detective had always had a habit of biting his fingernails, and so was having great difficulty in removing the little bandage. He pouted, frustrated almost to tears at the small defeat, until Watari reached out, pulling the band-aid off in one swift movement. The detective held out his arm, and the old man kissed the small puncture there.

Something about the gesture seemed to comfort them both. Even though L was a grown man, he still needed Wammy to be there when he was wounded, still needed to be hugged and soothed. When Mello and L had first been discovered, Watari had felt a little remorse at seeing his child take a lover, had begun to feel a little useless. It was during these times when he was reminded just how much like a son the detective was to him.

"He'll be alright, won't he?"

Even as child-like as the detective could be, as young as he may act for his age, Watari had not seen this look on the brunette's face in some time. A lesser version of it, possibly, when he accidentally knocked a plate full of cake off of a table, or spilled his tea down the front of his shirt, but never like this. He stared straight into Watari's eyes, silently begging him to make it all ok with a word, a touch, and the old man would have given his life right then to have Mello back, if only to wipe that look off of his child's face. The young man had seen hundreds, no thousands of murders, had looked upon the worst of the world and faced it down, defeated it.

This time the horror was too close to home, to real to detach himself from. L's feelings would get in the way of thinking clearly, could very well harm their chances of finding him, but how could he tell him to separate himself from it all, how could he expect the boy to keep a clear head, when his first and only love might be killed before they found him. It wasn’t just Mello's life that was in danger though, Watari realized, if anything happened to the teen, he had no doubt in his mind that L would take his own life. "Of course we will find him, L. We will bring him home."

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Mello thrashed as B’s hands slid under the waistband of his boxers, fighting and screaming, ignoring the agony in his side. “No, B! No! You can’t do this!” B slapped him but it didn’t do any good. He hit him again and again but Mello wouldn’t relent. He refused to give up, still struggled to get away. When Beyond finally let him go and stormed out of the room, Mello relaxed and sighed but his relief was short lived because his captor returned only moments later with something in his hand. To the untrained eye, it looked sort of like one of the joysticks Matt used when he played his old Atari but Mello knew better.

B grabbed his chin in a bruising grip and forced him to meet his blood red eyes. “Do you know what this is?” he asked. Mello remained silent but the look in his eyes answered for him. “It’s a detonator. Would Mello like to guess where the bomb is?”

“Please, B, don’t …”

“Its under the foundation at Wammy’s House. I took the liberty of installing it before we left. Now, Mello has two choices. He can either be a good boy and behave, or-“

“No! I’ll be good! I swear I will, just please. Don’t do that. I’ll do whatever you want but, please leave them alone…”

B smiled, patted Mello on the head. “Good boy. Now please stand. Mello is very beautiful. I would like to see all of him.” When Mello didn’t move, B again became violent. He grabbed the blonde’s wrist and jerked him off the bed, shoved him toward the center of the room then perched himself on the edge of the mattress. He kept his hand on the detonator, made sure it was in Mello’s line of sight as he waited patiently for the boy to do as he was told. After a moment and a pleading look, Mello did, removing his one and only article of clothing. He turned his head away, unable to look at the monster as those red eyes stared hungrily at his naked body. “Mello is indeed very beautiful…” B mumbled, more to himself than anything. “Come over here.” As soon as Mello was close enough, Beyond grabbed both of his arms and forced him into his lap, wrapped both of the boy’s arms around his own neck. “Kiss me.”

Mello leaned forward and pressed his lips to B’s, then pulled away a second later as if he’d been burned, his eyes shut tight against angry, ashamed tears. “Please…” he whispered but B grabbed a fistful of his hair and forced him to look into his eyes.

“Try again. And this time make me believe that you love me,” he growled. Mello struggled in his arms, trying to pull away.

“I don’t love you! I’ll never love you, now fucking let me go!” the blond screamed. Beyond sighed and backhanded the boy, hard enough to force him off his lap and onto the floor. He calmly got to his feet, reached down and dragged Mello up by his hair and threw him against the small table on the other side of the room. Before Mello could even think to react, B was there again, bending him over the hard surface, pressed tight against him as he twisted the boy’s skinny arm behind his back.

There was nothing the blond could do to defend himself. B hadn’t fed him in nearly three days and the pain from his wounds left him dizzy and nauseous. When he heard the clink of a belt buckle, he bit down hard on his lip and clenched his eyes shut. He knew what was coming, and he knew it was going to hurt.

B leaned down over Mello’s back, lips pressed against the boy’s ear as he spoke. “Mello is mine now. The sooner he understands that, the better it will be for him. I had hoped we could make love our first time but I suppose this will have to do.” He bit down on Mello’s shoulder, his sharp teeth drawing blood, and the blond screamed as Beyond shoved his hard dick into his unprepared body. It was rough and Mello cried the whole time but thankfully it didn’t last long before the monster came inside of him then left him bleeding on the floor without a word.

The floor was so cold, so like the monster's hands. Mello tried to pull himself up, only to fall back to the floor. He was so weak, had lost so much blood. He crawled towards the bed, stopping every few inches to catch his breath. There was a trail of blood behind him, and he hated that man for leaving the light on so he could see it. He dared to look down his own body, one hand held protectively over the wound in his stomach. His thighs were covered in blood, he could still feel the warm sticky fluid between them, could still feel Beyond's come inside of him.

The blond finally made it to the bed, pulling himself up by the wooden post, arms shaking, palms of his hands screaming in agony still. He fell onto the bed, gritting his teeth from the pain in his abdomen. He carefully rolled onto his back, but it was worse still. It felt like B had torn him in half. He remembered the first time that he had sex with L, how slow they had had to be, how the detective had kept asking if he wanted to stop. It had been excruciating, even with all the preparation and the gentleness of his lover. He couldn't have imagined it could ever hurt more than that, though he had lied to L, had tried to ignore the pain, to enjoy the moment.

It had been better the next time, even better still after that. The pain had been worth it, to be close to him. He would give anything to go back to that first time, to have L inside of him, offering soothing words and telling him how much he loved him, how grateful he was to be allowed inside of him. It would never happen again. Even if L were to find him, to save him, he could never be touched again. He was spoiled. He had promised himself, L, even god, that another would never touch him. The detective should have been the first and only.

None of that mattered now. All the love that had been built over these two and a half years had been destroyed in seconds. Mello had never once regretted losing his virginity, had pitied those who took it for granted. He knew how they felt now, the regret, the shame. He was dirty. He was used. Trash. Tainted. Rotten and filthy and untouchable. So he had been tortured, denied food and water. So he was weak, and thin and scared. He could have fought harder.

Then he was remembering pieces from earlier that night, or yesterday - had he passed out? Slept? What day was it? The only thing he had to go by was the stage of healing in his wounds. They were sore and red with the beginnings of infection but scabbed over. It could have been days…

He remembered being bent over, forcefully penetrated, then discarded like an old toy. He remembered what the monster had threatened him with. He had saved countless lives from certain death by his sacrifice. It was a small comfort.

The blond curled on his side. There were very few positions he could put himself in that didn't end up with an injury screaming at him to move. He curled up tight, knees up to his chest. Looking around the room, he could see his only article of clothing laying just out of reach on the floor. He wanted to be covered, couldn't stand to look at his own filthy flesh, but he was too weak to move again. He gathered the covers around himself, still splotchy red, and sticky from his own blood.

Footsteps again, the sound of a door creaking open, only to click shut. Mello had been in this room so long that it seemed like his whole universe was enclosed inside the tiny space. Whatever lay outside only existed to B. Wherever the monster went when icy hands weren't on Mello's naked flesh, when his blade wasn't piercing his skin, didn't matter. Wammy's didn't matter. There was only here, only now. There was only pain, only the waiting for benevolent death.

"Poor thing," Beyond spoke, voice sounding much calmer than before. The smile tried for concerned, but didn't quite make it. There was that spark of something in his eyes, that hungry look that said he was pleased with the pain that tightened the blonde's features. "It is frightfully cold in this room. I would like very much if I were to be allowed to warm Mello." Without waiting for an answer, Beyond crawled into the bed behind the boy, wrapped an arm around his thin waist under the blanket. "Ah. You are still nude. What a wonderful gift. Mello cannot possibly imagine how pleased I am that he allows me to see him this way. My beautiful cherub."

The blond cringed at the pet name. L had begun calling him angel, or cherub, along with the other terms of endearment he used. The detective had said that if he weren't of such a scientific mind, Mello might have made him believe in angels. He was so beautiful, so delicate and sweet. "Please, B, just leave me alone." The grip around Mello's waist tightened, crushing him. He was pulled closer to the older man, could feel the brunette's excitement through the rough denim of his jeans.

"How can you use that name in our bed? In our sanctuary!" It seemed that any form of the codename sent Beyond into fits of rage. Mello had watched the obsession grow over the time they spent in this room, until he was sure that BB didn't just intend to mimic the detective, but really believed that he was the other man. "How can my love be so cruel, as to compare me with another? Does he fantasize of other men when we lay in bed together? Does he imagine another inside of him? Mello's body is mine, and mine alone. I will not tolerate such an injustice."

"You're not L. You'll never be L. You're Beyond Birthday. BB. A kidnapper and a rapist. A criminal. L is going to have your head on a platter when he finds you." The blond taunted, saying the brunette's name as many times as he could in the speech, trying to jar him out of his delusion, to snap him back to reality.

The arm that had been around Mello's waist traveled up his chest, then B's hands were around his throat, fingers squeezing. The pressure grew until the blond choked, gasped, thrashed. Still Beyond squeezed, the pressure building, Mello's head throbbing. He found himself too weak to struggle after a moment, went limp under the hand on his neck. "Mello's vicious tongue is liable to get him into trouble again. I do not enjoy repeating myself. Mello would be wise not to force me to do so again. I will only warn him once more. I am never to be referred to by that name again. I am L. I am justice."

Just when the teen's vision was becoming blurry, black around the edges, when he thought the ever-tightening grip might finally crush his windpipe, he was released. He took a deep breath, then another, while trying to move away from his captor. He'd gotten one unsteady foot on the floor before he was pulled back, turned to face Beyond. The hand went to his throat again, the grip loose, just a threat. "Please, just let me go. Or kill me. I don't care. Just please, please, stop this."

"I am highly offended. How can Mello think that I would do such a thing? I want no harm to come to my love. My beautiful angel. I was only reminding Mello of his place. It is his own fault for trying to leave me. He promised, after all."

How long had the kidnapper been watching him? Beyond had admitted to it when he'd been taken, had confessed that he had had an eye on the beautiful teen for quite some time. But those words, that he'd promised not to leave, had been spoken to L in the privacy of their bedroom, many months ago. They'd had a fight. The blond had been over-tired, had been stressed over the rankings yet again. The teen had raged about Near, how the fight just seemed so pointless. He should just forget the whole thing, just leave, start somewhere new. It had only been his frayed nerves speaking for him, but something in what he'd said had caused the detective to lash out.

He would never do anything to intentionally hurt the boy, but he had grabbed his shoulders, shook him, raised his voice. If all that mattered to Mello was whether or not he was beating Near, that this place didn't hold any more significance than fucking scores, then maybe he should leave. The detective was obviously nothing more than another goal to achieve.

They had both shed tears that night. They had both opened up, confessing fears that they dared not share with anyone else. Mello had never suspected that L had been as lonely as he was, that the blond had changed his life so much. L was always so confident, seemed so satisfied in his life. What the blond had not realized was that the older man was scared to death to lose him, that his life meant nothing without his love.

Mello should have known. L was an orphan too. All he wanted was to belong to someone, to be loved and needed. It didn't matter that the whole world might be worse off without him, because he was nothing but a letter to them, but not to Mello. With Mello, he meant something. All of the blonde's past insecurities had been erased that night, and they had both promised that they would never leave. They were two parts of a whole, they would not function without each other.

Perhaps he could get through this, the teen thought. If he only thought of L, as B's hands were sliding back down over his stomach, running over his hip. Maybe he could imagine that it was L's hand that now went between his thighs, fingers sliding through the blood that had seeped from reopened wounds, staining tanned skin. If only he could imagine his blue-eyed lover pressed tightly against his back, rubbing his clothed erection against him when his finger pushed inside, making him cry out in pain.

But L wouldn't be doing this, wouldn't be forcing his legs apart with a knee, wouldn't be rolling him onto his stomach, panting in his ear. He could hear B making a pleased noise as he sucked on the finger that had been forced inside his ass. L wouldn't be shoving his dick into him again without any preparation.

"There's a good boy." B rasped into his ear. "Don't be shy, my love. It's just us. Come on, now, baby, let me hear those pretty noises. Just for me." Mello screamed as B thrust into him, deep as he could get. He gripped Mello's hips, pulling them up off the bed. "Mine," Beyond whispered, thrusting again, hard enough to push Mello's head into the headboard. He squirmed underneath the bigger man, reaching behind him to dig nails into the hands on his hips. Both wrists were caught in one of Beyond's large hands, his arms trapped between their bodies, his face pressed into the pillow.

Mello knew that the body could betray a person, but even so, when Beyond's other hand went to stroke him, when he started to become erect despite the pain and fear, the blond felt his stomach jerk. This was disgusting. He was disgusting. "Please-" Mello couldn't finish the thought aloud, couldn't beg him to stop. The sudden combined pain of his arms behind his back, B's hand squeezing his erection while violently thrusting into him, had him crying out again.

"Do you see? We're meant for each other. No one else can do this to you. No one else can make you feel like I do." It was true. No one else had ever made the teen feel so low. Not even Near could make him feel so small, so useless. He couldn't do anything to stop this. He couldn't fight, couldn't beg. All he could do was lay there, face pressed into the mattress, his screams muffled while B thrust into him, over and over, the pace quickening. Just when Mello thought it might all be over, his rapist slowed the pace again, bit down on his shoulder, stopped all together. "I was so selfish before. My love did not finish. I want to feel my beautiful angel come under me. Because of me." Beyond lay still, buried inside him, stroking him. He pleaded with his body not to let go, to understand. But he was filthy, disgusting, a useless whore that was coming from the touch of the madman. "There, baby. That's a good boy." A few more thrusts, harsher, tearing the teen from the inside out, and Beyond was coming in him again.

Mello could feel his heart thundering in his chest, threatening to explode. B stayed in him, his breathing slowing. He thought the kidnapper might have fallen asleep, until a few moments later when he pulled out, the movement causing even more pain, if it was possible. The blond was crying, sobbing, while he was forced to turn over, pulled into the older man's arms again. B stroked his hair, kissed his cheek. He was saying how much he loved the boy, how beautiful and amazing he was, and what a good fuck he was. It was ok, there was no need for tears. They were safe together. They could make love again and again, and no one could ever separate them. This never had to end.

What the older man did not know, was that it already had. There was nothing human left in Mello. He was already dead.