This story is my personal rewritten version of Darkchibi-chan's second story in 'Choosing Real Syaoran's Fate': the story about chocolate. She gave me permission to write my own version of it, so I did. I rewrote the whole thing from the beginning, because some of the things in the original first part don't fit my writing style (I have no trouble when reading it, but I simply can't write it that way). So credits for the idea go completely to Darkchibi-chan (whereas of course TRC is owned by CLAMP, disclaim disclaim)

Warnings: Yaoi, waste of food, psychological torture (though more of it implied than actually written), and written by a non-native speaker.

Set after Acid Tokyo.


Chocolate

Syaoran was confused.

He had spent 5 weeks imprisoned by his clone up to date. That was already a questionable thing by itself, because he wasn't sure what his clone could possible want with him. He could easily believe his clone to want him dead, or Fei Wang Reed to want him imprisoned, but not his clone to want to keep him locked away.

But more confusing was the treatment he was getting. He wasn't locked in a drafty prison, but in a comfortable room. Not the most well-furnished room he'd seen in his life, he had to admit. It contained only a small bed in a corner and a table at hip height in the middle of the room.

Even though it was 'just' a room, up until now he had not been able to escape. The room had no windows, and the door was definitely stronger than it looked. When he arrived his clone 'kindly' informed him he couldn't use magic here. And indeed, upon inspection he sensed spells blocking and deflecting magic. He would either not be able to summon any magic at all, or it would explode in his face. He had decided it wasn't worth it to try and find out which of the two.

Of course he had been at his most uncooperative in the beginning. He had refused to obey orders, and he had refused to behave the way his clone wanted him to. He had actively tried to escape every time the door opened.

But his clone had patiently confused and humiliated him into submission.

His attempts to escape were simply beaten down. He'd be shoved back into the room before even being able to properly exit, and punched and kicked if necessary. However, it would not lead to physical abuse. As soon as he stopped fighting, so would his clone.

His refusal to obey orders was handled more subtly.

The first time he seriously went over the line he was left alone in the dark for days. The lights were turned off and his clone had left for happy feather hunting without visiting him in between like he usually would. Even though Syaoran wasn't new to being locked away on his own, the darkness certainly got to him. He had always been able to watch his clone's life during his imprisonment by Fei Wang. The loneliness and darkness left him with the sole company of all his insecurities.

He had no idea how long he had been alone in the dark, but to his shame he had actually been relieved to see his clone again.

He had not learned his lesson that time, and soon after his second punishment was the removal of the bucket he was supposed to relieve himself in. Even though his clone usually didn't hurt him, he still didn't know what the other was capable of when angered. And with the emotionless man joining him in that room regularly, he was rather sure he would be far from learning the emotion 'happiness' if he would simply soil a corner of the room.

As time proceeded it became more and more painful to hold it in – of course he had gotten a large share of water just before he noticed the bucket was missing, the law of Murphy does apply – and the thoughts which started crossing his mind were not thoughts he ever imagined having. Soiling himself would simply be too humiliating, and he wouldn't allow his clone that twisted pleasure. But what would the consequences of wetting the wall or the floor be? The fact he hadn't been seriously hurt yet only made him more insecure and – frankly – scared.

He didn't even make it an entire day. In the end his confused mind had opted for wetting himself, because his clothes were at least regularly washed and he didn't expect to be let out of this room any time soon even if it reeked of old urine. Also he had somehow managed to convince himself it would be worse to be walked into while relieving himself against a wall all exposed than being found with wet pants would be.

The emotionless stare of the clone lasted minutes, and Syaoran felt so humiliated he could almost cry.

When the clone held up a damp washcloth and ordered him to strip, he obeyed without protest.

At this point in time Syaoran's mind had become almost completely numb. For some reason he was forced to live on the very insufficient diet of just rice – leaving him tired and almost sick at the thought of meal time – and he had contact with not a single person other than his clone – not the most talkative person he'd ever met. He felt physically and mentally drained after just two weeks of being imprisoned.

And to add the worst part to all his confusion: His clone cuddled. He didn't show any emotion, he just held Syaoran close. As he didn't speak during, Syaoran's mind would be left alone to go through wild rollercoaster's of theories to figure out why, but with his clone failing to show any emotion at all, he just kept turning in circles. Was his clone looking for affection? It couldn't be, as he didn't know emotions himself. Was he looking for warmth? Was he doing it simply to make Syaoran uncomfortable like some sort of weird punishment? Or did the clone even know why he did it?

After five weeks he was just confused and scared – and perfectly trained like a pet poodle.

And now, as if it wasn't bad enough as it was, he was unexpectedly faced with another confusing thing. It took him a full five minutes to even identify the object, but that only added to the confusion which had reached unbearable levels by now.

On the small table lay a box. His clone hadn't put it there, he was sure. The only thing he could think of was one of the servants he sometimes heard outside the room had left it while he was sleeping.

The box contained food. And contrary to his usual portion of rice, this was chocolate. Rich dark chocolate with ornamental swirls of white and lighter brown, nuts and flakes and cocoa powder. Luxury chocolate.

And it was in a box, on the table, in his room.

And he just didn't know what to do with this.

On one hand, he craved to eat it. On the other hand, he doubted his clone would like that. He had had only rice and an extremely rare piece of pulped vegetable to ensure he wouldn't fall ill too soon – but it was usually mixed with the rice and cooked until completely dead, leaving no other taste than the rice once again. He was sure his clone intended him to never taste anything else again.

This rich looking chocolate being the last of all things he expected to ever put in his mouth.

But it was here.

And his clone wasn't.

Maybe he could just eat a little and his clone wouldn't need to find out?

He looked down at his stomach to ask it whether it would like some of that tasty looking chocolate. His stomach replied with a low rumble, which didn't sound too enthusiastic to be honest, but neither did it sound like a protest.

Syaoran would just interpret the grumble as a positive one and reached out for the box. He had already started drooling like a good Pavlovian dog.

Holding the box with slightly trembling fingers, he moved away from the table towards the bed – as if the chances to be caught there would be smaller. He sat down carefully, balancing the box as if sharp movements would make the chocolate disappear. Hesitantly, he lifted a hand and reached underneath the lid of the box.

At the touch, the chocolate immediately melted, turning into a liquid one-cell mess. The box must have been stored in a too warm place, like next to an oven. Still, the untouched chocolates kept their shape like proud blobs of liquid denying their melted state to the outside world.

Syaoran refused to be defeated by the sadistic brown treats that easily and swirled his finger through the little plastic cell keeping this individual piece of chocolate. He gaped at the white and yellowish cream swirling through the brown right after his finger, reveling in patterns he could make like a curious child, trying to imagine the taste before he would start eating.

He carefully lifted his finger to his lips, tentatively licking at it before sucking it into his mouth. He tensed at the taste. Bitter. Sweet. Completely different from the dull taste of rice or the salty taste of the sweat on his own skin. Dark cocoa and vanilla. The white was vanilla?

He quickly dipped his finger in again and sucked it in like his life depended on it. Swallowing restlessly, he picked another chocolate. This one kept its form a little better, and he was able to lift the candy to his lips almost in its entirety – safe the dark streaks of liquid running down his fingers as he tilted them upwards. He bit through the nut in the middle of the chocolate and hurried to lick his fingers clean, ready to try the next but not wanting to waste anything.

He made it through five chocolates in more and less molten states before he was suddenly alerted by the sound of keys at the door.

He jumped, almost dropping the box. He spun in circles to find a place to hide the box and ended up dropping it anyway, using his heel to shove it underneath the bed the moment the door opened.

He blinked at his clone in the doorway like a deer caught in headlights.

The clone calmly closed the door behind him and turned to stare at Syaoran. Syaoran fidgeted under the blue and brown stare, trying – and failing miserably – to hide his discomfort and guiltiness.

The man stood in front of the door for at least a minute – possibly more and definitely feeling like longer – before moving forward slowly. His mismatched eyes were trained on Syaoran's, but he simply knew his clone was perfectly aware of him hiding something underneath the bed.

The clone stopped when their knees bumped together, looming over Syaoran threateningly without any emotion showing. Syaoran started trembling. There was just no saying how angry he was, nor what this psychopath would do to punish him. By now he dreaded the dark and every time the clone would reach out for him he anticipated the blow that never came.

Not knowing was killing him.

Suddenly the clone sniffed loudly.

Syaoran gaped.

"Pick it up."

His body went rigid. His clone rarely talked. He used to give orders, but Syaoran had become obedient enough for him to not need to open his mouth anymore. Hearing the other's voice, getting a new order, Syaoran knew he must be in trouble.

He leaned forward, only to realize his clone was standing too close for him to reach under the bed. He hesitated – not daring to look up – before leaning down sideways to stretch his arm in an awkward angle, sliding the box from underneath the bed and carefully picking it up.

He offered it to his clone, averting his eyes hoping not to make the man even angrier.

But as usual, the clone failed to show any type of emotion. He didn't even take the box, forcing Syaoran to hold it up awkwardly as his captor stared at it.

"Where'd you get it?"

"I-it was on the table when I woke up." Syaoran curled into a ball a little further.

"You like it."

Syaoran shivered, not knowing how to respond to the statement.

The clone's eyes narrowed a little, but the rest of his face remained blank – making it impossible to read the message behind the gesture. Syaoran took it as anger.

"I-I'm sorry."

"You'll only get rice after this."

A long silence fell, and the trembling of Syaoran's outstretched arms increased as his muscles tired.

After this?

Did the clone just... Did he just imply he could keep the chocolate? Didn't he mind? But why?

He dared to look up at the mismatched eyes hesitantly. The look was cold and indifferent. Uncaring. Possibly bored. His clone didn't move, like he was waiting.

Waiting for what?

Usually, the clone would either make him do something or just cuddle. It wasn't time to change clothes yet, nor the sheets. He didn't bring anything to wash up. He should have come just for the holding him close.

But he just stood there, staring. As if he'd done something wrong, but he just implied he approved of the chocolate.

Was it interest?

A small twitch in the clone's eyebrow alerted him he was supposed to do something. Even if the other didn't have emotions, he did seem to have preferences regarding their activities. And staring at an unmoving prisoner – no matter how often he did it – did not seem to be a preferred activity.

Maybe... Maybe he was supposed to eat? The only hint he'd gotten was the statement of only getting rice after this. 'After this' implied he could eat this, right? So if his clone was waiting, he was waiting for him to eat?

His stomach made a discontented gurgling noise – not too happy with the sticky sweet and rather fatty addition to its acidic content. It was used to dry rice, after all.

He dismissed his stomach's opinion. His taste buds definitely got the last word in this argument.

With very slow and careful movement, he retreated the box of chocolates to rest in front of his chest, lifting one hand to resume his picking of the molten treats. The first one he got was a rather sturdy one – only dribbling the slightest bit as the cocoa cover seemed to fixate it a little – and he moved it to his lips slowly – somehow fearing fast movements would make his clone change his mind.

As soon as the chocolate passed his lips, the clone stirred. His eyes shot up to the other's face, fearing the worst, but the expression hadn't changed.

The man opened his mouth, and then closed it again. Even without expression he managed to give off a bit of a puzzled image.

When he opened his mouth again, only a short order came out.

"Share with me."

Syaoran's lips parted to form a full-blown gape. He stared at his clone incomprehensively, completely forgetting about the melted brown covering the inside of his mouth – now displayed for his clone in a very childishly uncivilized manner.

The clone took that as an invitation.

A high-pitched sound of surprised tore from his throat and he tried to pull back with a jerk when the clone's lips landed on his. The man immediately took firm hold of his head with one hand and a tongue slipped in, tracing the silky brown on the inside of his cheeks to get a taste of the treat.

Syaoran tried to jerk away once more – restrained by his clone – and then gave up, freezing up instead. This was the first time the clone did something like this. The cuddling always seemed more like a platonic hold-your-stuffed-animal-close than like an actual embrace.

But right now his clone was giving his mouth a thorough exploration with his tongue, trying to find every last drop of chocolate even in places it couldn't have reached in such short time.

Only when Syaoran could taste nothing more than his clone's saliva in his mouth the other pulled back. Syaoran's jaw remained as slack as it was in astonishment and the stare his clone gave him seemed a little off. A bit less bored. Maybe a little curious. But still mostly emotionless, nevertheless.

"More."

Syaoran tensed up again. More of what? He sent his clone an uncertain look.

It took a few seconds before his clone gestured towards the box in a way that might be classified as 'impatient' had it been any other person making it.

Syaoran lifted his hand to reach inside the box on his lap again, trembling as if he were running a really bad fever. He wasn't as lucky with his choice of chocolate this time, the little piece melting away under his touch completely.

He jerked back, afraid of his clone's reaction – surely he would see the melting of the chocolate as his fault? – and trembled even worse as he made to pick another piece. His clone grabbed his wrist and his eyes shot up in fear. Was he finally getting that blow?

He was shocked to see his clone lift his hand to his face, a wet strong tongue slipping out between stern lips to lick at his chocolate covered fingers.

His trembling subsided a little, only getting back full force every shudder running down his spine at the feeling of the wet muscle trailing around his fingers. The tip of the tongue poked lightly underneath his fingernails – which had grown a little too long for a man due to lack in care and use. Even in this uncomfortable situation, Syaoran felt intrigued with the strange feeling this elicited, allowing a soft moan to escape his lips while his guard was lowered by his fascination of something new.

His clone lifted mismatched eyes to look at him, as if trying to take note of his reaction. Trying to find out what was happening.

The man released his hand, giving it a slight nudge down towards the box of chocolates before breaking contact.

Syaoran picked up the next one, most of it dripping down but not completely disappearing between his fingers. He lifted it to his clone, figuring the other wanted to be fed.

But as he neared his clone's face with the dripping candy, the other pushed his hand back towards his own face, forcing him to put the dark piece in his own mouth. The clone watched how he chewed hesitantly, licking stray drops of chocolate of his fingers where he'd touched his original. Right before Syaoran could swallow the liquor filled treat his clone leant forward again, pressing their lips together and slipping in his tongue for a taste.

A slight pinch on his wrist prompted Syaoran to return the kiss, and the clone made an approving sound in his throat to show him that was the correct response.

This time the clone didn't stop when they had finished swallowing every last bit of chocolate flavoured saliva. Syaoran wasn't completely sure what they were doing – or most importantly why they were doing it – but his clone seemed to be exploring, as if he were looking for something and hoped kissing his original would provide the answer.

He lifted his original's chocolate stained hand and forced the fingers between their kiss, licking and sucking them alternately with Syaoran's tongue. Syaoran knew nothing to do but to mimic his clone, licking at his own fingers to get off the last bits of chocolate.

He felt a tinge low in his belly, still scared and insecure about the whole situation, but getting somewhat excited at the idea he was actually sharing something with his heartless copy.

The clone released his wrist and started to crawl forward, pressing Syaoran down on his back and accidentally tipping over the box of chocolates on Syaoran's lap, smearing the stuff over his clothes – and underneath as one hand was slipping inside his shirt – in the process.

Syaoran gasped, retreating with his back against the bed. The clone stared at the mess he made unimpressed for a moment and then ducked down to suck the fabric of Syaoran's shirt into his mouth. Syaoran squirmed and the clone put his hands on his hipbones, pinning him down on the bed.

Once the clone had gotten all he wanted from the fabric he lifted the shirt to lick at the skin he had smeared chocolate on. Syaoran squirmed even harder but couldn't help but moan at the feeling.

The clone lifted his head, looking down at saliva slicked abs. He turned to look intently at the box slightly crumpling in Syaoran's spastic grip. He then returned his gaze to his stomach.

Syaoran shuddered in fear and whined softly, turning his face away so he wouldn't have to see his clone contemplating whatever punishment he had in mind. Although he had no idea what he could have done wrong now.

Suddenly the clone snatched the box from his hand and pulled up his shirt with a sharp tug, tearing it at the seams as he pulled it over Syaoran's head. Before Syaoran could process what happened, the box was upturned on his chest. He gasped and his body jerked, the molten chocolate on his skin weird and surprising him.

The clone brushed the dripping box aside nonchalantly and descended to start licking the chocolate from his original.

Syaoran's hands grabbed unconsciously at the clone's head, fingers weaving into brown locks while he squirmed and whimpered under rough laps of the hot tongue on his skin.

The clone stopped long before he had cleaned up all of the mess he made to snap up his head and crawl up Syaoran's body, smashing his lips against his original's.

Syaoran whined and responded to the kiss, feeling utterly confused. Why was his clone doing this? Why did the emotionless man prefer to eat the chocolate from his sweaty skin instead of straight from the clean box? Why did he kiss him when he had no chocolate there? Was this just a new way to send his mind reeling in confusion?

If that was it, he was certainly succeeding.

Two hands slid up his sides, stroking skin with an almost tender curiosity. Syaoran shivered a little ticklish and froze as nails proceeded to rake down the skin back to his hips. When his waistband was reached, the hands stilled for a moment, as if hesitating. Syaoran tried to move away subtly, knowing he couldn't get away from whatever his clone wanted, but hoping to discourage him in going further anyway.

The man on top of him was not impressed, and he hooked fingers around his waistband, tugging the pants off. Syaoran immediately curled up to cover himself, feeling humiliated and insecure under his clone's empty gaze.

The clone stared. Again. Syaoran whimpered and tried to roll over to hide himself.

The man took firm hold of one of his slightly protruding hipbones, digging his thumb in the skin retreating in his too meager stomach. With the other hand, he made a slow trail from the chocolate on his torso down his other hipbone. While Syaoran continued squirming, using both hands to cover his genitals, the clone descended to lick at the trail he made. One hand was roughly shoved aside when it hindered the clone's descent to his thigh. To Syaoran's surprise, the clone started sucking on his skin high on his thigh, creating a dark red spot on his sickly white skin.

He didn't know why, but all the kissing and the licking, and now this, made Syaoran feel giddy. Well, more than giddy, considering how he felt the necessity rise to use both hands to cover his privates again, as one seemed no longer sufficient. He didn't know exactly what to do with this feeling, but simply hoped his clone wouldn't notice his rising excitement and get angry.

He gasped in embarrassment and fear when he saw the clone open his eyes as he sucked, and one icy blue staring right at the hand failing to cover himself up. The clone rose a little – releasing the dark bruise on Syaoran's skin – and brushed aside the remaining hand. When Syaoran tried to move both hands back, the clone mercilessly pinned them next to his hips, looming straight over his crotch to watch. He dipped down and licked at Syaoran's navel – eliciting a shiver and a whine and an extra butterfly in his stomach – and immediately rose to watch the effects.

Syaoran groaned in humiliation, turning his face to bury it in the sheets as much as possible. He had a pretty good grasp on the possibilities what his clone was doing now. Either he was trying to humiliate him as a new punishment, or he was actually trying to figure out what all teenage boys need to using his original as test subject.

The clone rose, crawling up a little before sitting back, pulling Syaoran up to sit in his lap. Syaoran was not feeling very comfortable with this position, his half hard manhood jutting up towards his clone and his bare behind sliding down the man's legs until he could feel the still clothed erection of the other press between his ass.

The clone made a surprised noise when Syaoran's weight settled on his crotch. Two arms snaked around his cold shoulders and the clone made an inquisitive movement with his hips, lightly grinding against the soft ass of his original. Syaoran merely clenched his hands in the fabric of his clone's shirt, trying to force down the moan escaping him and not get more excited than he already was.

The clone seemed to be quite fond of his new-found stimulation, and slowly – experimentally – he started to grind, fingers travelling up and down Syaoran's back as if not sure where to put them when his original wasn't struggling.

After a minute or so, Syaoran was suddenly pushed away, the clone quickly shedding his pants and shirt before pulling Syaoran back on his lap. Syaoran was too stunned to react before the motions of his clone continued, this time the other's erection sliding hot and slightly sticky at the tip between previously untouched skin. He moaned in his surprise, the clone pulling his abdomen even closer in his search for contact. This time the clone responded with a soft moan as well. Syaoran clawed at his clone's back, feeling his erection grow harder as is was rubbed between one chocolate covered and one dry stomach.

His clone's hands found his way to his buttocks, quickly realizing the movements were even better if he held his original there so he could move the other's body up and down with him. The awkward grinding started to turn into full-blown dry humping and Syaoran whined again between his moans.

Still in the explorations, the clone spread Syaoran's ass, trying to get more friction by sliding his erection in between. Syaoran wasn't too fond of the dry feeling, too little of the clone's fluids spreading on his skin to ease the movement. His own erection was sliding between their stomachs smoothly, chocolate by now dripping slowly down his shaft as well as his clone's skin. Syaoran decided on a bold move and grabbed at the box, trying to let the remaining liquid brown drip between them so it would lubricate his clone's length eventually, hoping to smooth the rough feeling.

The other watched him emptying the box on his abdomen almost curiously, not attempting to stop him in any way even though he was soiling his clone's body with the slightly sticky mess.

The hands on his ass shifted slightly, and one finger came in contact with his hole. Syaoran jumped, dropping the box, and tried to lift himself away. The clone took this as a 'this must be fun' and wrapped one arm around his waist to keep him in place, the other probing at his sphincter. Syaoran gave the clone a wide-eyed look, shaking his head and a plead on the tip of his tongue, but the face utterly devoid of emotion made him choke on himself. This was really the worst way for a first experience.

A finger slid inside, trying to push through. Syaoran tensed up, gasping and making a really pitiful sound he never imagined himself making.

The clone seemed to realize this wasn't really the way to go about it – supposing he even knew what he was doing at all – and pulled his finger back. Syaoran relaxed in relief, until the clone swept his finger through the chocolate on their stomachs and probed again.

Great, he had picked up on the lubrication-thought...

Syaoran just cringed this time, but the slick finger was far less painful than the dry one and the clone was able to slip it in to the last knuckle without having to fight against the friction. The finger wriggled around curiously, and Syaoran clasped his hand over his mouth as he accidentally mewled.

The clone tried to push in another finger, but found the passage too dry for easy movement again. He swept up some more chocolate, pressing in his fingers and trying to stretch the opening. Syaoran seriously wondered whether this was just morbid curiosity or if his clone was purposely preparing him for a next stage. Neither sounded very comforting, but Syaoran still moaned loudly as the fingers pressed into a very sensitive spot, his hips bucking involuntarily. The clone slightly tilted his head, but his face still held no expression. Syaoran decided to bite down on his clone's collarbone to keep himself quiet, damn the consequences.

The clone didn't even seem to feel his teeth digging in his skin.

Suddenly the clone pulled back his fingers, seemingly bored with probing around in the wrong side of Syaoran's body. He took hold of Syaoran's chin, forcing his face up and smashing their lips together. He took the time to lick his own blood from Syaoran's lips, but still didn't really react to being bitten. His hands took hold of Syaoran's ass again and the grinding restarted. By now the chocolate Syaoran had deposited on his clone's lower body had had the time to drip down and the other's shaft was better lubricated while he slid between his ass. The clone seemed to be surprised by this and released Syaoran's mouth to look down. To stare while his movements stilled.

Damn it.

The clone looked up at him, mismatched eyes slightly narrowed and looking vaguely discontent even with the blank expression. Syaoran gulped.

"It's less good." The clone pointed out blandly.

Syaoran stuttered for a moment, but didn't know a reply. It was better for him this way, but his clone wouldn't really care.

"Take it off."

"B-but..."

"Take it off."

The clone dug fingers inside his ass, probably fully aware of Syaoran's distress at the feeling and making it a way to enforce his order instead of simply pulling Syaoran's hands down for the job.

Syaoran jumped again, moving his hips forward trying to escape the fingers. He made one fatal mistake though. As his erection jutted against the clone's chest in his attempt to escape the fingers, his hips hovered right above the organ he was just ordered to clean. This position seemed to make the clone have an even better idea than the humping – better for himself, that is. And as he previously noticed with his fingers, more volume needed more chocolate to get in without trouble.

Syaoran screamed as he was pulled down by his protruding hips, being slammed down on the clone's lap with the other's erection in him with one sharp movement. Tears sprung in his eyes and he momentarily thrashed about, directly thinking better of it and freezing up his abdomen to minimize the pain. Even the clone groaned in surprise, the penetration less pleasurable for him than he had expected, apparently.

Syaoran was quite sure this was too tight and too dry, he gritted his teeth and tried to stop his squeaky noises of pain – not even starting on the tears running down his face.

Even though Syaoran could have sworn the clone didn't like the feeling either, the other did not pull out. His hand wandered to the other's chestnut hair, weaving fingers in it and pulling harshly to convey his specific feelings about this torment. Any punishment would be better than this deeply humiliating pain.

The clone did not react to the pulling on his hair, and merely continued to stare at his twisting face.

He took another portion of the chocolate from Syaoran's stomach – the sweet liquid nearly finished by now – and suddenly pulled out. Syaoran gasped, relieved, but felt his clone smear the chocolate over his member underneath his ass. He bit his teeth, knowing perfectly well what was to come, and seconds later the shaft was dug inside him again.

This time was a little less painful, but still far from pleasant. His clone seemed to think otherwise, and started to repeat his movement of pulling out and pressing in. Fingers clenched around his buttocks to lift his weight along the with the thrusts again, making every time his ass hit the thighs of the clone reverberate through his insides up to his lungs. Sharp gasps left his mouth at each hit, forced out by the clone's strong thrusts.

As the clone started to find some sort of rhythm, the feeling became less and less painful for Syaoran. He figured he was stretched enough by now, his ass no longer clenching around his clone's shaft.

A high sound left his throat when the man underneath him suddenly hit that sensitive spot again.

The clone stared at his face and repeated the motion. Syaoran moaned deeply, pressing down on his clone's length by himself now, seeking that friction more.

In a clear moment, Syaoran suddenly felt lucky for the clone to have kept his inquisitive mind even after losing his heart. Instead of just going for his own pleasure, the clone wrapped fingers around Syaoran's standing shaft, carefully noting his reaction as he twisted his wrist, pulling it along with his thrusts.

Syaoran wasn't too sure about the kind of sounds he was making anymore. In his ears he just heard a buzz and his clone's soft pants, maybe his own harsh breathing dictated by his clone slamming inside him and low moans, but higher sounds seemed to be filtered out as if his ears had closed. His hips bucked violently, uncontrollably, trying to take in as much as possible and heightening the friction applied to his erection.

The movements of the clone sped up, the hand almost stilling while his length slid up and down his original's ass faster, more erratically. Syaoran faintly realized his clone was close and gripped forcibly around the other's hand on his shaft, trying to speed up that movement before risking to be left hanging when his clone completed.

He moaned and tensed, reaching his peak without warning. White seed mixed with dark chocolate between their bodies, and the clone stared down at it with slightly widened eyes. The clone pressed his head forward on Syaoran's shoulder, making a soft groaning sound in turn as the clenching of Syaoran's body took him over the edge.

Syaoran cringed at the feeling of being filled with a warm fluid even through his post-orgasmic haze. The clone clung to Syaoran closely for a moment, pulling their bodies together and making an even more disgusting mess of the strange mixture covering their skin. Syaoran felt soft pants next to his ear, feeling slightly surprised to catch his usually unaffected clone out of breath.

Not that he himself was any better, sucking in air like he had just been drowning.

The clone pushed him off unceremoniously, Syaoran's arms milling through the air trying to find support before landing on his back on the bed with a grunt.

His clone stood, pulled on his clothes, and left.

Syaoran was left gaping on the bed.

Talk about anticlimactic.

Still, he was quite sure by now this had just been an unplanned experiment for his clone. As he lay there, cooling down to the air, all he could do was feeling more and more humiliated – dirty and used. He had never wanted to share this kind of thing with his clone. Yet here he had participated with almost no protest, allowing his confusion to play the part for him.

He was angry with himself for not fighting back harder. But he knew he had just been too confused. He hadn't seen it coming. He hadn't seen any of this coming.

And now he was just a bit more confused.

Ever more, downward circle.

Even if he ever got saved, ever got out, he'd probably be reduced to the level of a toddler – too confused, too well trained, too humiliated.

He rolled over and buried his head in the dirty sheets, not acknowledging the hot tears soaking them even further.


Please review and help me improve my writing. Really, please do.