Title: And I Won't be Denied
Warnings: Rape, incest, use of bondage and aphrodisiacs. Also, incredibly yandere!Jin. Most likely very triggery.
Comments: I'm a sadistic fucker. :( Title comes from Sarah Mclachlan's Possession: "'Cause nothing stands between us here/And I won't be denied," though really the whole song could be used for this fic lol. For the kink meme: "Jin/Ragna; dubcon bordering on noncon. Jin ties up Ragna and screws him, all the while cooing about how responsive his body is, calling Ragna a whore for enjoying getting fucked by his younger brother, etc. Just a lot of uh emotional torment going on."
Also, apologies for those who reviewed my story before I was forced to delete and reupload (some glitch in the system that couldn't locate my story when I clicked on it, idk). Except Wrex, Wrex, if you don't like my stories so much and think they're unimaginative, old shit, either don't read them or give me some much-needed constructive criticism.
The first thing Ragna notices, even before he truly wakes up, is the feeling of cotton sheets on his bare skin. There's something strange about that, but it's difficult to think, more difficult than from usually waking up, and grasping his fleeing thoughts is like holding on to water. Had he gone to bed naked last night? He usually goes to bed wearing all his clothes including his jacket (he'd been attacked once by some seithr-mutated monster while sleeping, and fighting in just his underwear was rather embarrassing), just taking off his belts and boots; unless the night is especially warm.
He tries to shift his body, but the movement is restricted a little, and that's when he notices the cuffs around his wrists and upper arms.
Ragna is jolted out of sleep immediately, and he tries to sit up, but there's a tight chain connecting the shackles to the headboard, and though his whole body strains against them, the things are strong and Ragna flops back down on the bed.
"Shit," he breathes out, craning his head to check the bindings, "shit." Not good. Not good at all. He can, thankfully, see them in the darkness (thank you, vampire eye), but the restraints are thorough, very thorough, paranoid-thorough. The cuffs feel like they're lined with leather or something on the inside, and aren't tight enough to cut off circulation but too tight to slip out of or move more than a few inches. He can feel fetters on his ankles and what he thinks is a dog collar around his neck.
Then, the creak of a door and light is pouring into the dim room, drawing a hiss from his dark-adjusted eyes. And come footsteps and a chuckle he would recognize anywhere, one that sends a chill up his spine. "Oh, are you finally awake? I was getting worried."
Ragna's hackles rise instantly, and his hands fist almost of their own accord. "Jin," he growls, expressing all his rage and frustration in one word, "you goddamn sick son of a bitch, I should've known it was you and your freaky fetish."
"Now, now," Jin chides, clicking on a lamp and setting down what he's carrying—a bowl—down on a nearby nightstand, "that's not very nice, Brother. We had the same mother, you know."
"Fuck you," is all Ragna spits out, to which Jin laughs.
"So eloquent." His brother clucks his tongue affectionately and smiles, but there is nothing fond in his wide, insane eyes, only possessiveness and a childish amusement. "However, I think I'll be the one doing that." And Jin's hand is pressing against Ragna's hip through the blanket, and Ragna has just remembered that he is very, very much naked underneath.
"Oh god, did we—did you"—did you rape me in my sleep, is what he wants to say, but the words get stuck in his throat as if that will negate the possibility that it ever happened. Jin's smile only grows wider, until it's a red slash in his face that only makes Ragna think of the smell of smoke and ash and the church burning down around him, a smile that makes nausea bloom in his gut.
Jin's eyelashes flutter, and he makes this sigh that raises the alert level in Ragna's skull to screaming. "No," Jin says, in the same tone of voice he used to have when Ragna caught him trying to figure out what the Christmas presents were, of being presented with something you wanted more than anything else in the world, "we didn't." His eyes open, and Ragna notices how dilated the pupils are, the green just a thin ring around the black. "Not yet. Brother tempted me, you tempted me so very much, especially when I bathed you, and I wanted to take you right then and there, but I also wanted you to be awake for our first time. It's not as fun if you're not aware when I fuck you through the mattress. I want you to scream my name."
"Is that all you can say?" Jin retorts, and Ragna tries to ignore the mounting sense of horror as his fingers slide under the blanket and touch bare skin.
Hell no, fucking hell no, he's not going to get felt up and raped by his little brother in—wherever they are—and even though he doesn't like it, Ragna still has a trick up his sleeve. He fists his right hand—the Azure Grimoire—and reaches for that burst of dark power—
Pain, pain, darksharpslashing pain, courses through his right arm and behind his eyes, like a hot dagger, consuming his nerves. Ragna arches off the bed, because holyfuckfuck that really hurts, and is only distantly aware of the restraints pulling until he sags back down, panting for breath.
"Holy shit," he gasps out. "What the hell was that?"
Jin sighs, and Ragna can barely feel him pulling away, and maybe he'll get some painkillers because Ragna could really do with some. "A drug," Jin says, "it restricts the use of Armagus and Grimoires, and prevents the energy from being expressed outside the user's body. The power is released as mental backlash, causing the pain you felt. The stronger the Ars, the stronger the pain. However, it has to be ingested, and it is such a pity that it's addictive…" The smile on Jin's face suggests that he thinks quite the opposite.
A goddamn magic inhibitor. Just Ragna's luck, he was hoping that all Jin had slipped into his food or drink or whatever was some Rohypnol or something.
There's a clink of metal on china, and Ragna flicks his eyes to see Jin holding the bowl he had brought earlier, lifting a spoon. "Here. Aren't you hungry, Brother?" Admittedly, he is hungry, ravenous even, the tentama noodles he had devoured seem like ages ago. (It might have been ages ago.) But there's no way he's going to eat something Jin had probably drugged. When Jin puts the spoon to his face, Ragna turns away.
"Brother, don't be so cold. It's good chicken noodle soup. I even made the chunks a little bigger, just how you like it," Jin wheedles.
And even though shock is trying to set in, trying to numb him to everything, Ragna can feel the last few threads of his patience snap. "Get the hell away from me," he snarls, because everything—Jin tying him up, getting molested by him, and now he's fucking offering Ragna chicken noodle soup like everything's okay?—is too fucking much for him. "Go die in a fire, Jin, you deserve it—oh wait, you fucking started the one that burned down our home!"
It feels good, it feels really good, to just throw that in Jin's face, but the brief flare of pleasure from it is replaced by dread when he sees the smile fall off Jin's face, replaced by sharp narrowed eyes, his mouth thinned to a cold hard line.
"I was hoping you wouldn't be like this, Brother," Jin says, his face exactly the closed-off portrait Ragna used to see in newspapers and vidscreens during the Ikaruga Civil War. The spoon returns to its bowl, and Jin places it back from the stand. Ragna swallows the lump in his throat, suddenly aware that if Jin wanted to, he could stick a sword in his gut or torture him or anything he wanted, and there is nothing Ragna can do.
Ragna doesn't even see Jin's hands move before they are around his throat.
"Lhh"—let go of me, he tries to choke out, but Jin's hands, right over left, squeeze, fully cutting off all air. Ragna struggles, and maybe if he weren't bound and chained he'd be able to escape, but Jin's thin sword-callused fingers dig into his throat until his vision is starting to blur, fade to static.
"Brother, Brother," Jin chimes, all manic smiles again, "I don't have to keep you alive, you know. You're still mine either way, whether I kill you now or kill you later. If you're too much trouble, well, it would be sad to have to put you down, but I can. And besides, I can always freeze you, and keep you with me—forever. Forever and ever, as a perfect block of ice." Jin's fingers loosen, just a bit, and Ragna gulps for air. "I love you how you are, but please, don't impulsively spit out such hurtful things so much. Now, would you please eat the soup I worked so hard to make, or do I need to get the feeding tube?"
Jin lets go, and Ragna reels back on the bed, the rush of air almost euphoric to his oxygen-deprived brain. Four gasps later, and he manages a weak, "I'll eat it." Jin's smile is stretched ear-to-ear.
"Good." Ragna hates himself for it, but relief rushes through him at that pleased note in his brother's voice. At least a happy Jin is less likely to strangle him to death. When Jin puts the spoon to his mouth again, he opens it, almost meekly, and swallows the soup. (It's surprisingly good—a little too over-spiced maybe, and maybe a touch too salty for Ragna's tastes, but good. Not that he'll ever admit that to Jin.) Jin just keeps on smiling as Ragna almost mechanically takes the food. Something's really damn creepy about it, creepier than how Jin normally acts, but Ragna is reluctant to provoke another 'let's play not-so-erotic asphyxiation' attack, so he keeps on eating.
Jin coaxes him to swallow all the soup, even tilting the bowl so he can drink it all. He takes out a napkin and dabs up the drops of liquid that have fallen, wiping Ragna's chin and chest clean. It'd be almost sweet if the situation wasn't so messed up.
"There." Jin smiles at him like he's so pleased, disproportionately pleased. "Was that so bad?" Ragna very carefully shakes his head.
Jin pulls up a chair, a kind of threadbare thing that had definitely seen better days (and makes him wonder where the hell Jin got this stuff, where the hell were they), and sits down in it. Just. Watching Ragna.
The alarms sirens in Ragna's head start sounding again, and he shifts a little to dislodge the tightening feeling in his gut.
Jin just keeps on watching him.
Ugh, Ragna is fairly sure there was something in the soup that was making him feel all weird, because though he twisted and turned as much as the chains allowed, it persisted. It feels like it's growing even, blossoming into heat, making him sweat and swallow.
Ragna turns to Jin, to tell him something's weird, and maybe Jin would let him pop an antacid or something, but he's struck by the open, hungry lust on Jin's face. And though it disgusts him, revolts him, there's—something—inside Ragna, against all reason, that twists in answer at that.
What the fuck, something very strange is going on, and then he notices the very slight tremble of Jin's fine-boned hands. Not from fear, but from anticipation.
Ragna swallows, and forces out words that sound oddly low, "What did you do to me?" It can't be, it can't be what he's thinking of, Jin may want to rape him but rape was about power, not about making the victim want it too—
Jin chuckles, laughs, cackles until Ragna is shivering from dread and (not desire, it could never be desire, never mind the stirring of his cock) something like fear. "You know what it is, Brother," he whispers, huskily, crossing the room and taking Ragna's chin in his hand. "An aphrodisiac. A very powerful one, and it was annoying to get a hold of, but I suppose you can obtain anything in the black markets of the lower levels." His fingers slide down, to just under Ragna's jaw, thumb against his quickening pulse-point. (And god, his pupils are so blown Ragna can see his reflection in them.) "It was all worth it, though. Oh, Brother, oh, Ragna, you have no idea how very long I have waited for this." Jin sounds like he's about to cry from sheer excitement, and Ragna wants nothing more in the world than to get away, farfarfar away, because in addition to disgust an answering, flattered lust is lurching in his stomach.
Jin starts touching him, slowly, reverentially even, his collarbone, the tense muscles, where the dark mock-flesh of the Azure meets the remains of his upper arm, the bones of his wrist, the calluses of his left hand. And it's wrong, so wrong, but something about it is so very loving that the arousal is conquering the revulsion—no, that can't be right, it's all the drug, just the drug. Ragna sucks in tiny sharp breaths anyway, shuddering from either dread or desire or maybe both as he feels his cock hardening.
"Jin," he gasps out when Jin climbs onto the bed, onto Ragna, he thrusts against the blanket, suddenly desperate for friction, for anything, as long as it relieves the throbbing in him. Jin laughs, and—kisses him. Openmouthed, tilts his head and Ragna shudders in pleasure when Jin slides his tongue in and seems very intent on examining his teeth, especially his fanged canines, with it. And he knows that this is wrong, that this is his little brother, his brainwashed-insane little brother, on top of him, tongue in his mouth, hand just brushing against one nipple. But most of all, this is rape, the drug makes him say yes with his body when he wants to say no with his mouth, but Jin doesn't seem to care.
"Brother," he moans, moving down to kiss at the bruises on his neck. Ragna makes a sound that is definitely not a whimper, and Jin moves down further, nipping at his collarbone, then kissing his nipple. His hand twists the other one, drawing a grunt from Ragna, but Jin laves the first one with his tongue so Ragna is left writhing from the doubled pain and pleasure.
"God," he practically sobs when Jin, taking his own sweet, sweet time, just shifts down a bit more to press his tongue against the tense stomach muscles. "Oh god, stop, just stop, don't fucking do this."
Jin puffs a breath against his abs, and lifts his head to raise one blond eyebrow at Ragna. "You want me to stop?" he asks, although Ragna, trembling, does not reply. Jin scoffs, says, "I don't think you do," and finally, touches his erection.
Ragna is ashamed of the low moan that slips out of his lips (he sounds like a fucking porn star), but Jin obviously loves it, because Ragna can see the light glinting off his teeth through lowered lashes. "Oh, Brother, you're such a whore."
Ragna huffs out a breath, opens his eyes fully to stare at Jin, the statement not quite registering. "What?"
"You heard me." Jin grasps his cock more fully, thumbing the head, and Ragna is, thankfully, able to partly suppress the groan. "If anyone walked in right now you'd probably beg them to fuck you—all you care about right now is having your cock up someone or someone's cock up your ass. You're even begging the brother you claim to hate so much to fuck you—all I'm doing is touching your dick and you're moaning like you're ready to come." Jin laughs at his own cruel words, and Ragna can only bristle at the stinging insults, his denial stuck in his throat as Jin moves his hand, cupping his balls with one and jerking him off with the other.
For a while there is the only the sounds of Ragna's harsh breathing and the slide of dry skin on dry skin. And god, Jin's right, Ragna is ready to come, just from having Jin touch his unslicked cock for two minutes. But before he can, before that pleasure reaches a crescendo, Jin fucking pulls away.
"Dammit, Jin, please don't—"
"Hold on," Jin chastises, slipping off the bed. He pulls his shirt off, revealing a lightly muscled torso covered by bandages, probably from their last fight. His trousers go off next, and Ragna swallows when he realizes Jin doesn't wear underwear, and actually seeing his cock poking out of his trousers before they slide off sends another spike of lust through him, because he—no, his body, not him—needs it.
Then Jin opens a drawer on the nightstand, and pulls out—of course—a bottle of lube. Jin climbs back onto the bed, and squeezes out a fairly liberal amount.
"Now, what was I saying?" Jin says conversationally, sliding one slick finger into Ragna, who squirms. "Oh yes. You're a slut. One finger and you're already trying to open as far as you can. I'm tempted to just shove my cock up there, Brother, and see how you moan in pain." He titters, giggles, as he slides in another, and a third, until Ragna is ashamedly trying to fuck himself on Jin's fingers.
Ragna tries to hold back each moan, each shudder as Jin's fingers expertly brush his prostate, but Jin knows, Jin can tell, Ragna knows it and it makes disgust—for himself—curl in his stomach. Here is the terrible Grim Reaper, Ragna the Bloodedge, the elder brother, on his back, moaning, groaning, and sighing with pleasure because of the great Hero of Ikaruga, Major Kisaragi, his little brother.
"God," he practically sobs, "oh god." He can feel his climax building up each time Jin brushes his clever fine-boned digits against that cluster of nerves, pulsing, but just as he's about to come, Jin, the son of a bitch, takes his cock and squeezes it hard, right at the base.
Ragna's wordless keen at his denied orgasm is enough complaint. "Uh-uh," Jin says, and Ragna can hear the damn smile in his voice. "You haven't asked for permission yet. Do you want to come, Brother?"
Ragna hates being reduced to this pitiful crying creature desperate for his brother's touch, he hates Jin for making him act this way, hates the drug, hates the need in his voice when he gasps, "Yes," but most of all, he hates himself for allowing himself to be so dominated.
"Do you want me to fuck you? Do you want my cock in your ass, slut?" Ragna is certain Jin is trying to wring every ounce of dignity from him, but he still says, "Yes, fuck me."
"Say the magic word," Jin whispers, taking far too much delight in this, and Ragna knows the hot sensations welling up in his eyes are tears, but he can only swallow, and beg.
"Yes, Jin. P-please, please fuck me." And Jin, thankfully, blessedly, does not say a word, only smiles and slicks the lubricant over his cock.
He settles over Ragna again, cock pressing at Ragna's ass, and kisses Ragna, hard and breathlessly, as he slowly, slowly slides in.
"Oh, Ragna," Jin moans his name into Ragna's mouth, pushing, and he's already halfway in. Ragna has to admit there is pain, it does hurt, but Ragna can only focus on how the thick heat of it throbs inside him, stretching, burning.
"Oh god," he breathes, as Jin fully sinks his cock in, Ragna feels oddly filled and heavy, "fuck."
"My name, Brother," Jin says above him, rotating his hips slightly so his cock grinds against his prostate. "Say my name." And Ragna's lips do, chants Jin's name like a mantra—JinJinJinJin.
"No one else will ever see you like this," Jin is saying, and although Ragna can barely hear him, his body bucks as much as possible as Jin's hands grasp his cock again. "I could unchain you right now and you'd just scream like a cheap whore with your legs in the air, but no one else has the right to touch you like this." For emphasis, he drags his cock almost fully out, only to thrust it back in, drawing a sob from Ragna. And again and again, he does it, grinning, thumbing the head of Ragna's erection. "I'm the only one who can love you like this, and if you don't love me back, Brother, well, that's fine. I have your body, and it already welcomes me, see how you tighten around my cock when I thrust? You'll love me eventually, Brother, your body already does. And when that happens, all I'll have to do is tell you to spread your legs, and you'll open your body exactly how you are now. You're all mine." And Jin is still talking, gleefully babbling about Ragna's body, but Ragna doesn't hear anything, because he is shaking, crying, and coming, hard around his brother's cock.
Jin kisses him as he comes, laughing into his mouth, victorious, because he has obtained everything he has ever wanted. In the post-climax haze, Ragna closes his eyes, and shudders, because Jin has stolen his breath and his will and his pride and everything he has ever had.