|Of Honey and Clementines
Author: Bard of Heart PM
It was funny, the power a simple Christmas orange had on a person's heart.Rated: Fiction M - English - Romance/Drama - Sollux C. & Eridan A. - Chapters: 44 - Words: 164,352 - Reviews: 807 - Favs: 546 - Follows: 524 - Updated: 06-13-12 - Published: 11-26-11 - id: 7584022
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Yay it's finally here!~
Okay. Before I begin, I want to point out a few warnings.
Rating: M for explicit language and sexual content (but I'm sure most of you won't mind or already knew that).
Genre(s): Romance, Angst / Humanstuck, AU story with references to canon story
Warnings: may be extremely disturbing to some, especially in these first few chapters. Also, this is going to be a longfic. Development will be slow and I will be taking my time with this piece. If you're here for just the smut, you probably shouldn't read it!
EDIT:: -REGARDING TRIGGERS-
I'm going to isolate this because it wasn't clear to some people. THERE ARE TRIGGERS IN THIS PIECE. As in OFFENSIVE MATERIAL that may DISTURB SOME PEOPLE. I have already been attacked anonymously because of this piece on tumblr, and I won't go into detail. I'm sorry I wasn't clear enough. Read at your own risk. This is the last time I am saying this.
Obviously all characters and Homestuck belongs to the Huss of Lip, yadda yadda yadda.
Regarding fanart: I totally appreciate any and all fanart! Please let me know if you draw any, because I'll be sure to post it on my tumblr page under the #OHAC tag so everyone can see your awesome work. I'll be sure to credit you and link to your deviantart page, tumblr, or anything you'd like.
Now I'll shut my mouth and allow you lovelies to read. I hope you enjoy! :3
Your name is SOLLUX CAPTOR. You are FOUR YEARS OLD. You have a variety of INTERESTS. You love ANIMALS, particularly BEES, even though it is TECHNICALLY NOT AN ANIMAL. In fact, you own a stuffed bee that your MOM gave to you after your DAD PASSED AWAY. Even though you HARDLY REMEMBER HIM, you know he was a good man because your mother keeps pictures of him all over the house. For no real reason you love the color YELLOW. You enjoy messing around with your mother's LAPTOP. You have even watched her use MICROSOFT WORD, which she uses for SERIOUS BUSINESS that calls for a lot of BUSINESS TRIPS. Often times, this leaves you in the care of YOUR OVERLY-DOTING UNCLE.
"Yes, my dear?"
"Um, why are you touching me?"
"I'm checking for bug bites, sweetheart. Oh! It's your turn to move your chess piece."
You move your chess piece, just like your uncle said. You are too young to know why your uncle touches the inside of your legs, or why he cups his hand over your private parts. Of course not; to your four year old mind there is nothing wrong. Your uncle's not hurting you.
So when it's time to go home, and your uncle kneels in front of you to give you a big kiss on your cheek, you don't question him when he tells you not to tell your mommy that he was checking for bugbites. This is perfectly acceptable to you.
You are SEVEN YEARS OLD. You still love ANIMALS, especially BEES, even though they are STILL NOT TECHNICALLY ANIMALS. Your mom took you to the ZOO for your birthday, and now you love it there. However, after that her business trips became LONGER and MORE FREQUENT. Again, you are put in the care of your UNCLE.
You are on the way to the zoo, because you told your uncle how much you love it there. While your uncle drives on the highway, he asks you to unbuckle your belt. Confused, you reach for your seatbelt, but your uncle stops you and points at your pants.
"Take off your pants please, my dear."
You pause, and your eyebrows crease, shifting the pair of glasses that rest on your face.
"But people might see my private parts," you say, somewhat distressed as you look out the window at the cars passing by you.
It is at that moment that your uncle strikes you for the first time.
"Your mother left me in charge, so you will do what I say," your uncle says meanly as you start to cry. You don't know why your uncle hit you. You don't understand, so you cry and cry as your cheek starts to burn where you were slapped.
This goes on for a long time before you stop crying.
"Are you okay, sweetie?"
Your uncle's nice voice comes back and you calm down a little more.
"You know I love you, right?"
Your uncle's warm fingers brush your cheek, then trail down your chest and to your leg, where he gently strokes the denim over your privates with his pinky.
"I love you more than anything in the whole world," your uncle says. You sniffle and hang your head as he unbuckles your belt and unbuttons your jeans. He puts his hand into your bee-printed underwear and touches your privates directly for the first time. This is brand new to you. "Isn't that right, honey? You know I love you so very much. More than anyone…"
"I love you too," you say, wiping the last of the snot from your little nose. "Sorry I didn't do what you said…"
"It's okay, sweetie. It's okay because I love you very much. Just relax and let uncle make you feel all better. In fact, we don't have to tell your mother about this little accident at all…"
You are TEN YEARS OLD. You begin to realize that hugging your stuffed bee DOESN'T SOLVE ALL OF YOUR PROBLEMS, especially since it doesn't bring your mother home from BUSINESS TRIPS. You also begin to realize that what your uncle does to you is kind of WEIRD, but you don't question it because you TRUST YOUR UNCLE. He has also been doing it since you were VERY YOUNG, so it is NORMAL to you.
"Come here, honey, I want to show you something."
You look up from the computer game you are playing to see your uncle sitting on the couch. He motions for you to sit in between his legs.
"I'm going to teach you how to feel good all the time," your uncle says in a quiet voice into your ear. You nod a little, but are a little nervous. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I'll turn on some cartoons for you to watch so you're not so scared."
Your uncle flips on the T.V. and switches the channel to a cartoon where little squids hop all over the screen. This is interesting to you since you like animals so much, so you quickly become engrossed in it.
As you do, you don't notice your uncle unbuttoning your pants until he is pulling them down to your knees.
"Unc-" you begin, but you are cut off as your uncle wraps his hand around your privates. He begins to move his hand up and down, and a weird feeling begins creeping up your belly.
"Just relax, honey," your uncle says as you arch your back and grab a fistful of the knees of his jeans in each hand. You make little squeaky noises which kind of scare you as your uncle continues to stroke you.
After a while, the weird feeling makes you feel like you have to pee. You become terrified, and in your throes of both panic and a new sensation you've never felt before, you attempt to abscond. Your uncle only holds you tighter, and in another few jerks of his wrist, you're screaming and crying and your lower body feels so weird.
When your uncle releases you, you cower on the opposite end of the couch and cry with your little balled fists over your eyes to protect yourself. You've never had something so scary happen in your life, and for the first time you wonder if your uncle loves you in the way he says he does.
But before those thoughts can be vocalized, your uncle is on you again, pinning you to the couch with his body. He kisses your cheeks, your eyelids, your forehead. He kisses all the tears away and brushes your hair with his warm hand.
"Good boy. You're a good boy, honey. You're such a good boy…" he whispers over and over. The fear slowly goes away as your uncle lifts up your shirt and starts kissing you all over. He starts licking you and it feels gross. But you don't say a word. You just lie there quietly and completely still, because you're afraid your uncle will hit you. You think about how much you want to go home to distract yourself. But this only makes you sad, because your mother will be gone for another week.
Surprisingly, your uncle does nothing in the following week. He even treats you like a real child by making cookies and watching movies and playing real games with you. You start to believe that all of the weird stuff between you and your uncle is over.
You are FOURTEEN YEARS OLD. Your variety of INTERESTS has dwindled to nothing but BEES and COMPUTERS. You are in middle school, and you are realizing just how STRANGE your relationship with your uncle is. In addition, you have recently attained BRACES and have developed an EMBARRASSING LISP. In FEAR of being JUDGED, you exclude yourself from school activities. You have ONE FRIEND, but you two don't talk or hang out much because you don't want him to find out about SHENANIGANS WITH YOUR UNCLE. The time you spend with your uncle becomes more than the time you spend with your mother. This TERRIFIES you because over the years the situation WORSENS. When you begin to show RESISTANCE, your uncle doesn't take it kindly and starts getting ROUGH when he touches you.
"If you tell anyone, I'll tell your mother and your teachers all of the nasty things you've been doing," your uncle says, his hand tangled in your hair as you frantically try to take as much of him into your mouth as possible. You know from experience that he will beat you if you so much as slow down. "I'll tell your friends and everyone your mother works with, and she'll lose her job. You don't want that, do you sweetheart? You hear me?"
"Mmph," is all you can say. You start to scrabble at your uncle's knees as he chokes you. Everything is just awfulawfulawful as you fight to breathe. You try to stop your tears because you know that that only makes your uncle bigger and more impossible to handle.
There's a grunt and suddenly your mouth and nose and lungs are full of bad things and you absolutely hate it. You cough and hack as you pull away from your uncle as fast as you can, and everything is just so terrible that you start to cry again. You feel gross as all of the vile liquid in your mouth dribbles down the front of your shirt.
That is the day your deep hatred of the world and everyone in it began.
You are SEVENTEEN YEARS OLD. The only thing that understands you are the CODES that you write that your FRIENDS use to HACK their games. Your mother has officially LEFT YOU WITH YOUR UNCLE, finding it easier to move in with her NEW BOYFRIEND. As previously mentioned, YOU HATE THE WORLD. You hate it that you have TWO PERSONALITIES: the POPULAR one you use with your newly obtained PLETHORA OF FRIENDS (you believe it may have something to do with your sudden growth spurt) and the one you use with your UNCLE. Since you got your BRACES OFF, though, things have been a LITTLE BETTER. The lisp remains, but you learn how to KEEP IT UNDER CONTROL. The only time it comes out again is when you're PARTICULARLY UPSET ABOUT SOMETHING.
"How was your day at school, honey?"
You toss your book bag down on the cluttered table and just stare straight down at the floor, like you've conditioned yourself to do. You don't say a word and you don't look your uncle in the eye. You allow yourself to be filled to the brim with all of your intense hate, and you drown in that as your uncle approaches.
"Bad day again? That's too bad, sweetheart. How about I make you feel better. Come on, darling, just take off your clothes… that's it."
It has become a sick ritual to you. You slide out of your shirt first, casting it to the floor. Your uncle immediately has his hands all over you. They're no longer warm to you.
But perhaps that's because you're so full of white-hot hate that your body temperature has risen over the years.
That hate suffocates you and makes everything a blur, and the next thing you know you're face-down, ass-up in your uncle's bed. Everything is just burning hot pain and more hatred, and you can't do anything but hiss and cry into a pillow that smells suspiciously like smoke and sex. Your uncle is relentless. More and more hate fills you, but all you can do is let the tears get soaked up in the foul pillow beneath you.
"You're a slut," your uncle whispers in your ear. You blubber a curse and cover your eyes with your wrist in a feeble attempt to protect yourself. "Aren't you, dear?"
"I'm a thlut," you whimper.
"That's right. Take it like the whore you are."
You tear at the sheets and earn a clobber upside the head for it. But you just can't help it; everything hurts and everything is always hurting and you hate every single God damned thing in the world and-
Your uncle finishes inside of you and all over your bare back, then pulls away to observe the damage. You collapse on the bed, panting and crying as the pain catches up with you and things that shouldn't be hurting start to throb.
"How was it?" your uncle asks quietly. He puts a tender hand on the rise of your back, and you cower even farther into the sheets.
"Terrible!" you scream into your pillow. "I hate you!"
Your uncle slaps your back with full force and you jerk wildly, not surprised by his strike but still feeling every square inch of his skin on yours.
"You love it," your uncle snarls. He grabs you by the back of your neck and squeezes as hard as he can, making you writhe in a vain attempt to get him off. When you're sure you'll die of suffocation, he releases you and you curl in on yourself, covering the bruises all over your body. Then, his hand is on you again, gingerly stroking you and soothing the burning skin where he slapped you. "Oh sweetheart, who are you and where did the sweet little boy I once knew go?"
You glance up from your pillow, and your tear-filled eyes darken with every ounce of hatred in your body.
Where'd the little boy go?
Straight to hell, you think. Where he belongs.
Your name is SOLLUX CAPTOR. You are EIGHTEEN YEARS OLD. Today you are GRADUATING HIGH SCHOOL.
What will you do?