Alcatraz

I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh, the story, or the characters. Wish I did, though.


“You always come back.” The older man was bulky, in a dark suit. He smiled, brushing Pegasus hair back with one heavy hand. “You hate him, don’t you?”

Pegasus looked away. The room was dim. Only the controls on the panel sparkled. You could make any environment you wanted here, but it was a long time since he’d bothered. “I don’t hate him,” he said softly.

Gozaburo pulled him close, putting one knee between his legs. “You hate him.” His mustache tickled when he whispered. His lips were unpleasantly moist. “Did you ever make him cry?” Pegasus drew in his breath. The hairy hands slid under his shirt, touching bare skin, and he almost pulled away. “Did you want him then?”

He allowed Gozaburo to pull him closer, and leaned toward his damp, whispering lips. “What did you do to him, Pegasus?”

“I kissed him.” Pegasus accepted the embrace of those heavy arms. “His eyes were wet and blue.”

“I used to rape him when he cried.” Eye closed, he listened. “Are you thinking about his ass now?” Gozaburo had undone his pants, he realized; they fell around his ankles, the belt buckle clanking on the floor. “It’s narrow, remember?” Pegasus swallowed. “And pale.” His hairy hands were on Pegasus’ own ass, one finger sliding into the crack.

I won’t let him, if he tries to kiss me. But all Gozaburo did was talk. “You had him, didn’t you?” The finger went in further; found the opening. “When he was your prisoner?” It went inside. “I had him first.” The finger went in deeper, and he struggled a little. “I opened his ass for you, Pegasus.” He sighed. “He was tight, and he screamed when I went in.”

Did I program him to say that? Suddenly it seemed very important, and Pegasus tried to remember. But he was hard now, and Gozaburo kept talking. “He was hot inside.” His finger was all the way in. “Remember how it felt when you had his hips in your hands, and you went in and out?” The finger was going in and out too, and the fingers of Gozaburo’s other hand dug into his ass. The mustache tickled his cheek. “He used to come before I was done with him.” It moved faster. “Twice, sometimes.” Pegasus’ own hands were on his erection.

“He wanted it, you know.” Gozaburo laughed. “He always liked it when I was rough.” Hands moving faster, Pegasus willed him to continue. “Only he likes to tease.” He could almost see those hostile blue eyes, that arrogant, pale face. Only Gozaburo’s bulky, hairy body kept coming into the picture.

“He’s a little slut, and he likes it when you take him.” He wanted to come; he was very close. “I taught him to be like that.” Pegasus’ hands moved, slick and fast. “I taught him to like it, and now he wants it all the time. Only he likes you to know without him saying. He wants you, Pegasus. He wants you to fuck him again.” He came, as Gozaburo whispered it in his ear.

Pegasus pulled away immediately, shaking free from Gozaburo’s hands. “I hate him,” he muttered. He glared at the ugly old man. “I hate you, and I hate your son.”

Gozaburo watched him pull up his pants. “Oh yes, you hate him!” The smile under his mustache was contemptuous. “And you’ll let me do you, if I talk about him.”

Pegasus turned away. “I hate him.” He ignored Gozaburo’s laugh, and pushed buttons on the control panel. Slowly, the machine shut down; then there was a whirring, and finally he was alone in the dark room, and the only sound was the faint clicks of the cooling metal. He left, locking the door carefully behind him, his face wet with tears.