Summer Spooktacular: Short Circuit

[bluezone]

From the very beginning, Aomine didn't like the withdrawn, insular, frequently absent yet faultless Tim Drake. The reasons at first were small and nebulous, mainly having to do with his own discomfort at the move to Gotham, the language barrier, the extremely shitty weather, and the even shittier basketball team that had nearly fallen over themselves in an effort to get him to join. He did, of course, but that didn't change the fact that he hated the city and he hated that the contract his parents - one Japanese, one Puerto Rican, both of them very skilled civil engineers - had signed would keep him here from the start of high school to all the way to its end. He got up surly and he went to bed surly and that meant that, at school, he was more than ready to find a reason to hate someone.

The first strike of Tim's: they were seated next to each other in nearly every class. It was plain bad luck that their subjects had so neatly lined up with one another.

The second strike: for whatever bizarre reason, Tim actually knew how to speak Japanese. That had put a quick end to Aomine's derisive comments to himself, especially when those flat, cool eyes would inevitably drift his way.

The third strike: his fucking attitude. His expression rarely changed and when it did, it was inevitably cold and unaffected, as if everything around him didn't matter, especially not the perpetually ill-tempered classmate that sat next to him.

The harassment was inevitable. A hard elbow or a knee as they passed each other, dropped books, spilled drinks, stolen lunches and supplies, nasty words spat in a language the teachers couldn't understand anyway, and a few confrontations where Aomine had tired to force a fight, despite better judgement and warnings. He was pent up, damn it, and if he was going to be stuck here, miserable and a thousand kilometers from all the shit that actually mattered to him, then somebody else, especially someone that just looked at him instead of fighting back, was going to be miserable, too. An outlet was an outlet, and everything else in his life actually benefitted from it, because with all his ire channeled toward Tim and Tim's expressionless face, his grades weren't so bad (shockingly) and his performance in games was as overwhelming as ever.

After three months, it was nearly routine, save for one thing: the absences.

Tim operated like any other sad loner with no friends, except there were days when he didn't show and nobody batted an eyelash. There were days when he left in the middle of class and nobody cared then, either. It drove Aomine fucking crazy. Why the hell could he just get away with it? Was it just his parent, or whatever? You couldn't live in Gotham and not know about Bruce Wayne, even if you made every effort not to pay attention, but it caused Aomine to bristle just the same, incised over an unfairness that didn't even technically apply to him.

That he would follow him one day was inevitable, too. The chosen day wasn't out of the ordinary; the afternoon was warm and breezy, pleasant with spring. There was still an hour of class, but a lie about using the restroom was all he needed to leave scant minutes after Tim had just gotten up and walked out.

He'd follow him, wherever he was going. He'd see it finally, whatever it was that he was doing.

Comments

[bluezone]

He said it so casually. Out of everything - the weapons, the outfit, the blood, the knife as it slid past his ear - it was how he said it that convinced Aomine that Tim wasn't lying. You could bluff almost anything, and in his time he'd seen plenty, but that flat, flat tone and those flat eyes didn't seem capable of lying. Each awful, promising syllable was honest and delivered with a frankness that sent a chill down his spine.

It was easy to be afraid. Normal people were afraid of things like bullet holes and a black logo with pointed wings. Maybe, because it was easy, Aomine struggled against it, his hands curling into fists and anger lighting in his eyes. He didn't doubt him, and what common sense he had screamed in his head, but his grimace of a scowl didn't disappear, only deepened.

"Why's that?" He spat it at him, his shoulders shaking, his own expression making up for Tim's emotionless stare. "Because you already killed someone? It's what you do when you skip class, right?"

Stupid. It was so stupid, what he was doing. He needed to shut up.

"You murder people?" Aomine strained against the metal arms, his voice tight and half-growled. "You're a criminal."

And nobody batted an eyelash. Nobody cared when he walked out without a word.

"You piece of shit."

[notlikeanyone]

Tim was used to being the target of Aomine's anger and derision, but it was a little surprising to see it now, in the face of the overwhelming situation the other boy was in. Most normal people would have shown their fear at the realisation that he had killed someone, but not Aomine. How stubborn.

"Technically, to commit murder and be a criminal, I believe I'd have to be human, but otherwise, you're right." Not that it took a lot to guess correctly when the evidence was right there in front of him, the blood and holes and Tim himself practically screaming that he was a killer.

"I've eliminated seventeen targets today. All of them were guilty of crimes including drug trafficking, murder, and rape. So far, I have only ever killed criminals, and it's... preferable for that to continue."

He paused, and his hand shot out, covering Aomine's mouth and gripping firmly. He raised the index finger of his other hand to his mouth in a shushing gesture, then turned away, facing out across the empty rooftop. He moved his free hand to press two fingers against his ear. "Reporting in. All targets eliminated, minimal damage sustained. ... Yes... it's been dealt with. Requesting a period of free time to effect repairs and engage in social camouflage protocols... yes, sir. ... Thank you."

With another quiet sigh, he dropped his fingers from his ear and turned back to Aomine, taking his hand away from the other boy's mouth. He kept it touching his face, though, just... slowly stroking his cheek.

"Now. Where were we?"

[bluezone]

Not human?

Tim's words ring in his ears, staying stubbornly senseless for long seconds because shit like that didn't happen. Maybe, maybe Gotham was home to a real, far less wholesome version of the fictional "heroes" in comics and shows, but this was pushing it too far. His mind was reeling under the implications, even if he was forced to accept them as fact, even if Tim's fingers were hard and immovable when they pressed against his mouth.

He's not human.

He was actually quiet when Tim spoke to whatever disembodied voice that was conversing to him through...a phone? An earpiece? It was impossible to tell. Anger and skepticism and bitter stubbornness might have been making his breath uneven as his head pound, but all that did was make his need to know stronger; if he knew he could...report this? Tell someone? Fuck, Tim was killing people; they could be criminals, or they could be innocent, it wasn't as though he was providing evidence and everything coming from his mouth was suspect. He was a thing, he wasn't alone, and nobody was stopping him.

Aomine was quivering with rage when Tim moved his hand away, his teeth gritted and an irrational need to bite was building in him. He paid more attention to that feeling than he did the wave of goosebumps Tim's slowly stroking fingers caused, a shiver slipping through his shoulders.

"...you're not the damn police," he said in a low, furious voice. Aomine, the delinquent who didn't care, snarled it at him, because there was a difference between teenage rebellion and real blood on your hands. "Decent people don't do this kind of shit."

His gaze flicked over his body, taking in the suit, the stains, the holes. "...what the fuck are you? Some kind of monster?"

[notlikeanyone]

Tim paid close attention to every twitch of Aomine's body, every reaction. The tell-tale shiver running under his rage was most... interesting, and he kept his hand in place, stroking along the line of Aomine's jaw, to the side of his neck.

"The police either can't or won't hold the people I kill. They buy their way out, bribe their way back onto the streets, and the system is too corrupt and decrepit to stop them. That's why I am... necessary."

He paused, taking in the depth of Aomine's rage, the distrust he could see in those furious eyes turned on him. "If you don't believe me, that's your choice. But ask yourself, why would I lie? To make someone who already hates me think better of me? That'd be pointless. To persuade you over to my side? Worse than pointless - you're of no use to me in my work. You'd just get killed by some mafia goon or something. It would be... a waste."

He hadn't flinched at the monster comment, but it did make him - curious, in spite of his programming. "I never claimed I was a decent person. But you believe in... monsters, Aomine? Tell me, what kind of monster do you think I could be?"

[bluezone]

He...believes that shit. He believes it.

Aomine was never the smartest guy. His grades were poor and he spent more time thinking about basketball than he did about philosophy or morality. But it might have been that much simpler outlook that made Tim's words sound so ludicrous. He knew about crooked cops, he knew the system had to be bad, everybody and their senile grandmother knew how screwed up Gotham was, but if you just started murdering people, where the fuck would it end? If you let one person decide everything, how long before it all went to hell?

Even he could see that. He could see it clearly.

But Tim believed otherwise. He wasn't lying at all.

Aomine's expression tightened; the rage in his eyes grew tempered by his first real dose of caution. His narrowed eyes sized up the young man in front of him - if he was a young man at all. His lips twisted, because even as dangerous as the situation was, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was suddenly being made fun of.

"Fuck, how the hell should I know? You're the - " Freak, he almost said, but stopped just in time. "...what, are you a damn ghoul? A vampire? You're full of fucking holes."

[notlikeanyone]

It wasn't exactly a matter of belief, for Tim. Those were the rules that he was programmed to follow, the logic that all his actions were derived from - he didn't have a choice to believe in it or not. It was just lucky that the one person calling the shots was Bruce Wayne, someone so narrowly focused on his mission and with a will cast in iron. He was even thorough enough to have programmed in protocols for his androids to deal with him if there were any signs that he'd become corrupted, or lost sight of his purpose.

But none of that mattered right now. Bruce wasn't even aware of what was happening on this rooftop, because Tim had hidden it from him.

"Bullet holes. I'm full of bullet holes... seven of them." He pointed out, and if it still felt like he was making fun of Aomine, well. Human emotions were a strange thing.

As were human beliefs and superstitions. "A vampire? Do I look like I suck blood and sleep in a coffin?" He ran his fingers up and down the side of Aomine's neck, tracing over the pulse point, and stepped even closer.

"Aomine... were you hoping to get bitten?"

[bluezone]

The look on Aomine's face then was an almost comical mix of disbelief and childish fear. It had been years since he had been spooked, to say nothing of scared, of anything remotely supernatural; the last time he'd embarrassed himself, it'd been during his first year of middle school and that could be excused because he'd still been a kid back then (and Tetsu had that effect on people, it wasn't just him). Horror films and ghost stories might be unsettling, but Aomine was never outright afraid of them.

That made the stab of surprised fear that much stronger and that much more difficult to control. From Tim's response, it was obvious that he wasn't a vampire, and yet Aomine's abruptly pounding heart wanted to belief otherwise.

It was almost funny; it really would take something entirely stupid like that to make him really feel and admit to his fear. "Who the fuck would...I didn't say that. Are you crazy?"

Stupid. Ridiculous. He shivered again, and it was visible and noticeable this time, a shudder that started in his shoulders and rushed all the way down his spine. His eyes slid sideways, toward the curve of Tim's arm, and though his fingers were light and he had yet to actually do anything, Aomine still pulled on his bonds, doing what he could to wrench his neck away.

"Don't touch me."

[notlikeanyone]

There it was. Aomine's fear, raw and sharp and almost comical, clear to see in his face and in every straining line of his body, the shudder that ran down his spine and made him shake right in front of Tim's eyes. The thought that he might be a vampire had the other boy more scared than anything else, even the blood and bullet holes and threats to kill him. It must have been some kind of instinctive fear, maybe some belief in ghosts and monsters that Aomine hadn't grown out of yet.

"You don't get to tell me what to do," he rejected the protest not to touch Aomine flatly, moving his hand to keep touching the side of his neck, at first. Then he quickly slid his fingers round and up, over the nape of Aomine's neck and into his hair, and gripped tightly.

Aomine was so afraid that he might be a vampire, even though he'd all but said he wasn't.

Aomine, who constantly made derisive comments about him that no-one else could understand.

Aomine, who kept finding ways to trip him, or jam an elbow or knee into him. Who had spilled drinks or food onto him, just because he could.

Aomine, who had stolen his lunch for the past month solid... was deathly afraid of vampires.

"Plenty of people want to be bitten by vampires. There must be something appealing about it. Something... romantic, don't you think? They're always written to be kind of - erotic." It was true. Even before the romance novel trend of writing soft, goodhearted vampires to sweep women off their feet, the vampire narrative had been laced through with eroticism. Blood and sex, intertwined. He didn't have much time to himself, and spent even less of it reading vampire novels, but he knew that much.

"Maybe it's because the neck is such a vulnerable spot for you humans. Did you know, the skin there is so sensitive that, for most people, it's an erogenous zone?" As he spoke, low and soft, he inched slowly closer, until he could just - stand up on his tip toes, and bite the side of Aomine's neck. Just gently, and then he sucked on the skin a little, too.

Meanwhile, the tentacles must have been reacting to Aomine pulling against them. There wasn't any other reason for one of them slipping between the buttons of his shirt and under the fabric, sliding over the skin of his chest to coil around him, the cool, ridged metal rubbing over one of his nipples in the process.

No other reason at all.

[bluezone]

It was so stupid. It was so stupid; it was pushing beyond the boundaries of what even an idiot like him could reasonably believe. Knives and guns and the scent of someone else's blood, bitter and metallic, were real. The threat of murder was real. The capsule and its technology were real, that unmistakable logo was real, there was so much already that was real and provable that Aomine didn't need to, and in fact didn't want, to believe his own childish, ludicrous suspicion that Tim was a fucking vampire. But understanding that and stopping the irrational, out-of-control surge of adrenaline and panic were two entirely different things.

His pupils dilated. His breath caught in his throat. His heart seemed to stop, and then hammered wildly against his ribs. He felt sweat prickle on the back of his neck, and at his temples, and trail down the indent of his spine. His shoulders wound up tight and his fingernails dug into his palms as his hands curled into trembling fists.

In Aomine's head, the animal, instinctual parts of his brain cried out in fear. He tried to squirm away from Tim as he got closer, and closer again, and his lips parted in a wordless show of fright right before he felt the light, light scrape of Tim's teeth.

No...

No - !!

" - shit! Get the fuck aw-ah."

The cool, textured slide of metal over his hot skin made him jump, his eyes widening and his body lurching, back, presumably away from the arm that left a startling, tinglingly sensitivity behind. He wouldn't have thought it possible to actually feel something other than anger and shock, but Tim's lips were soft and the mechanical teasing at his chest combined to make a second, very different kind of shudder march unevenly through his limbs. His teeth clicked together painfully in the aftermath, a trembling starting up as he struggled to control the wild feelings battering about in his body.

"Stop." He managed to turn it into a snarl, a demand. "Stop, before I - "

Did...something. Anything.

[notlikeanyone]

Tim considered that this must be why many humans turned to bullying, and later to crimes that let them control and torment others. Aomine's reactions, the way his body tensed and his eyes changed, the hitch of breath Tim could hear in his throat and the way his heart raced... all caused by him. All caused by the fear he'd sparked, by his idea of teasing, and - there was something satisfactory in it. Something fascinating, and yes, he could definitely see where human psychology could develop a craving for this kind of response. It might even have been why Aomine started bullying him, trying to break his cool and create a reaction, but in that case, it was odd for it to continue when he'd barely ever reacted to it at all.

Then again, Aomine was remarkably stubborn.

"No." No, he wasn't going to move away, and he wasn't going to stop.

There was another reaction happening, given away by the trembling, by the shudder that ran through Aomine as the tentacle ran over his nipple. It wasn't like Tim could miss it - he was so close, he was practically pressed up against Aomine's body, just their clothes and the coils of gently shifting metal separating them. With a thought, he made the tendril start moving back and forth, rubbing over Aomine's nipple in a repeated pattern that couldn't be mistaken for a coincidence any more.

"Before you... what? What will you do if I don't stop? What can you do?" He asked, then moved slightly, so that he could bite the other side of Aomine's neck, right where it met his shoulder. He peppered small bites and licks all over Aomine's sweat-tanged skin, working his way up to the other boy's jawline. With his free hand, he nudged the other robotic ropes around, until they were framing Aomine's other nipple through his uniform, sliding either side of it and almost pinching it between them. That let him stroke the tip of it with his finger, pressing firmly to be felt through the fabric of Aomine's uniform.

[bluezone]

It was...on purpose. He was doing it on purpose. Even though Tim didn't so much as issue a verbal command or use any kind of signal that Aomine could detect, when that tendril slipped across his chest a second time, making him jump and hiss, he knew Tim was behind it. He could see it in his cool, focused expression, because for the first time since all of this had started, the bastard was actually looking at him. It wasn't that distant, empty regard that he'd earned every time he'd tried some new harassment on him in an effort to get a rise out of him; he was finally, finally paying attention to Aomine and everything he was doing, from how he bit his lip and swore to how his face lit with increasing alarm.

Tim's mouth was bad enough. It was already making him twitch, fear and heat spiking through him at the same time, all accompanied by irrational thoughts: was this going to taint him? Was he going to be a vampire, now? Or...fuck, his servant? That was even worse. And did he really think that, or was he just giving in to the roiling, unavoidable distress?

Aomine was shaking outright when Tim's hand nudged at the tentacles on his chest, and he made a noise when he felt that light, pinching grip on his other nipple. It was a noise he'd never heard out of his own mouth before, a faint, overwhelmed whine touched with confusion, because he shouldn't have felt it so strongly. It shouldn't have made his knees feel so weak when Tim started to tease him there, the inconsequential caress of his fingertip playing his agitated nerves like a finely tuned instrument.

"I won't let you...just - " It was just his nipples. It was just his mouth. He was tougher than this. It was barely anything. "You won't get off scott free. I'll make damn sure you...fucking...pay..."

The heavy thudding of his pulse sank down through his body. It dropped low and settled into his hips, dragging heat along with it. It was a feeling he knew. He knew what it meant.

That was why his eyes closed at the end of his little speech, expression tight with strain as he tried - and failed - to control his growing erection.

[notlikeanyone]

It would be inaccurate to say that Tim had previously ignored Aomine, but the attention he'd paid him at school, in the normal course of a day or even after yet another incident of harassment, had been necessarily distant. Detached, just as he was from every other student, although none of them tried to insert themselves into his life so forcefully. It was a pale shadow of the sudden, intense focus he had on Aomine now, the sharp attentiveness in those same cool blue eyes as they were turned on him. It was as if Tim was drinking in every detail, every twitch and gasp and noise, every squirm of Aomine's body, with the same unblinking stare of a camera lens given an extra depth.

He chose to ignore Aomine's obvious state of arousal for the moment - at least, directly. He kept the tentacles moving, though, kept pressing and rubbing with his finger, teasing Aomine's nipples to encourage the erection he could feel starting to press against him where he was lent against the other boy's lean, solid body.

"You're not in a position to let me do anything. I can, and will, continue doing whatever I please. You're only alive because I'm letting you live. Don't forget that." He was talking against the skin of Aomine's neck, and put emphasis on his point by biting him again, harder this time, enough to bruise. "If you keep insisting that you'll make me pay... it makes it very hard to justify keeping you alive."

With another thought, he made the tentacles shift again, and this time the cool metal lengths moved between Aomine's legs, around his waist and hips, until they were framing his erection. Making it seem to stand out all the more against the strained fabric of his uniform. "Aomine... you're hard because of me?" There was the slightest hint of feigned surprise in his voice, another tease. "I never knew you felt that way. So that's why you always picked on me."

He stopped gripping the back of Aomine's head so that he could drop that hand to palm the other boy's cock through his uniform, pressing and rubbing against the warmth of him before giving him a firm squeeze. "Since I caused it, of course I'll help you with it."

[bluezone]

He was still afraid. That might not have come as any kind of surprise, all things considered, but the reasons for his fear were slowing morphing, taking those juvenile assumptions and twisting into something more ruthlessly solid and undeniable. He didn't need to know or understand what Tim was in order to comprehend what was happening; he didn't need to believe or explain his nature in order to recognize where things were going. A quick, upward glance was even though to send a real chill down his spine, because for the first time Tim really did look inhuman, his eyes dark holes, his expression a blank wall.

Aomine was caught. He was caught and he was finally coming to understand what that meant.

Tim didn't even need to remind him. He felt the realization stick in his throat like a branch of thorns.

"Nngh, fuh...fuck..."

His head dipped, and then pushed back, rolling to the side. He looked at Tim through barely opened eyes, his shoulders shivering, his hips jumping nearly entirely on their own. He couldn't deny that he'd gotten worked up; the evidence was right there. It was in Tim's hand, and his hand was sending pleasant jolts through his body. He had to swallow a moan, a real one, when he squeezed him, and his jaw started to ache from how hard he was clenching it.

"I fucking hate you." That, at least, felt and sounded like nothing but the solid truth. "You've got your hands all over me, you're using your damn...vampire shit, or whatever."

That, however, sounded much more shaky. Sharp, intense unease settled in his stomach and, thorough he knew it was useless, tried to squirm his vulnerable dick away from Tim's hand. He didn't so much as budge, and only made those metal tendrils dig into his skin and make his clothing pull at his erection more tightly. If he kept up with that, he'd probably rip something.

"I don't want your help."

[notlikeanyone]

There was just the barest pause in Tim's movements, a stillness that was difficult to discern because he was usually very understated in his movements anyway. He'd registered that Aomine disliked him, of course, but hate was... a strong word. A strong emotion.

But it wasn't like he could expect anything different, under the circumstances. Aomine was his captive, hating him was... normal.

"So? You can continue hating me." Was his voice... colder? As if it wasn't cold and unfeeling enough anyway. It wasn't as if he was capable of caring whether Aomine hated him or not.

"I'm not a vampire, you know," he added, but still gave Aomine's neck a gentle nip before moving back. He pressed his finger hard against the other boy's trapped nipple, rubbing it in circles. "You're just surprisingly sensitive, especially here... and here," he flicked the tip of Aomine's straining erection with his finger, like someone flicking a paper football. It was no use trying to move away from him, not with the metal tendrils holding tight - in fact, it just drew his attention. He pinched the tight fabric of Aomine's uniform between his fingers, and pulled, ripping it away as easily as if it had been wet tissue paper. He studied Aomine's exposed cock with the same cool, intense focus as everything else.

"It looks like you need my help."

[bluezone]

Did he...?

Aomine's never been the most observant person. In fact, he has been and continues to be an interpersonal dipshit, saying things and doing things that better, more mature people would never stoop to. But when he was focused, when there was no one else in his field of vision - like in a game, back when he was weak enough that his opponents actually provided a challenge - he could still sometimes catch the little changes, the miniscule signs. And he'd been trying for so long, glaring down at Tim's empty expression, searching for something, anything, that a shift was noticeable, however small.

Now if only he could fucking understand what it meant. The coolness, the ringing, hollow tone...he didn't understand. He didn't--

And then he didn't have a chance to think about it anymore. One moment he was squirming under Tim's hand, fresh anger and a hint of shame blossoming in his chest, his sweat burning in his eyes, and then in the next he was letting out a shout of pure surprise. The sound of fabric tearing was alarmingly loud and the sudden, jarring introduction of fresh air on his skin made his hips and his erect dick bounce. Then his face was burning with a wretched, unacceptable flush that painted his cheeks even darker.

"Y...you..." Aomine had difficulty forming the words, humiliation and shock causing him to stutter and fumble. "...you bastard! My fucking clothes...!"

He was a good size, for a teenager. Above average, clean and healthy and dark. Pubic hair was actually absent, because that shit bothered him during games with all the running and sweating that he did, so he kept himself shaved.

[notlikeanyone]

Too bad for Aomine, Tim wasn't about to give him any more clues regarding his reaction, as slight as it had been. The extra edge of coldness in his regard might have made him seem dispassionate - and he was, but even for him, the sight of Aomine's erect dick bouncing was arresting, just for a second. The image he presented, bound in coils of metal and with just his cock exposed, naked to the air... truly naked, the skin smooth and hairless... it was aesthetically pleasing, he thought. He'd seen bigger, but Aomine was still decently impressive, for a teenage human, and the darkness and smoothly shaved hairless skin were different.

Appealing, to urges he was programmed to understand, but wasn't supposed to have.

"I'll replace them." It would be easy for him to buy another set of the school uniform for Aomine, of course, with his rich... father. Just as it would be easy for him to buy any other clothes he might decide he needed.

"I'm surprised that you're only worried about your clothes, when you're so clearly crying out for attention." There was a slow return to that same dry twist in his voice, the inflection that barely hinted he was teasing - or mocking. "At least, this part of you is."

Of course, that was the cue for him to wrap his hand around Aomine's cock and give it a slight, experimental squeeze, pinching his nipple at the same time.

[bluezone]

He was being judged. Tim's expression didn't have to change for Aomine to know he was being...assessed? Sized up? Fuck, it was making the back of his neck burn and his stomach tighten; they were out in the open, for fuck's sake, it was still daylight outside! Even if the roof was high, even if no one had, so far, responded to his increasingly noisy responses, the pace of Aomine's heart quickened that much more, because there was a huge difference between being bound and being bound with his dick hanging out. Especially -

"Ghn, ah, fuck - "

Aomine didn't know what those gloves were made of, but the texture made him jump a second time, sensation rippling along his nerves. By now, both on his nipples were hard and tingling, more sensitive than he could ever remember them being; the fabric of his shirt teased them as much as Tim's fingers did. His dick throbbed in Tim's grip, a dot of pre forming on his tip. The combined onslaught was wrecking with his concentration and making his eyes go unfocused. He was an ordinary guy, he had ordinary urges, if he was toyed with like this it was only...inevitable...

But telling himself that didn't really help at all.

He had to do something. Now, not later.

Aomine's jaw tightened and, through sheer force of will, he got his eyes to lock on Tim's once again. Tim's words from earlier were ringing in his head - What can you do? - but never in his life had Aomine just given up (except for once, and that was nothing like this at all).

"...why the hell are you doing this?" His words were low, and as focused as he could make them. "If you wanted me to keep quiet, you'd just threaten to kill me and leave." His gaze bore into Tim's, hard as steel despite how he trembled. "Why?"

[notlikeanyone]

Tim paused to consider the question, for a just a second. At first, he'd only meant to tease Aomine a little, to play with his fears about the supernatural. As pay back for the constant bullying, it had only seemed fair - mild, even. But he hadn't expected the other boy's reactions to be so... compelling. Even now, he found that he didn't see a reason to stop touching Aomine, not when he responded so nicely. Not when jumped and made noises like that, when his cock was beading with pre-come and almost quivering under his hand, hot and needful...

"Why do you pick on me at school?" He asked, instead of answering, and looked Aomine in the face again, meeting that steely gaze. It was something that he didn't quite understand, because - "Why only me?"

He pressed with his finger again, against the nipple that was so hard it stood out, then pinched the fabric of Aomine's shirt and pulled. He tore it away in a line, between the helpful metal tentacles, until both of Aomine's nipples were on display, exposed to the air - and his touches, more directly. The touches of the tendrils, too, as they moved more firmly over his skin, teasing him.

"I want to keep you quiet. But I've also decided that I want to keep you. And seeing you like this is... interesting."

[bluezone]

Why?

There'd been so little reason in the beginning. And thinking about it now, even his reasons for treating Tim like he had just earlier that day - his lunch had been good, it'd come with some kind of Italian pastry, and he'd kicked his bag away from his hand when they'd all gotten up to leave after their second period - seemed so nebulous and petty that he couldn't even say them.

Why? Because he could. Because Tim hadn't fought back. Because he'd spent much of his adolescence doing whatever the fuck he wanted, and no one had been able or willing to stop him.

There was a taste of bitter self-awareness in the back of Aomine's throat. The resolve slid away and out of his expression; it was very different when he was the helpless one and he found his control slipping, his lips parted but his words halting and incomplete. "That - you were - "

The sound of fabric tearing for the second time and the sight of one of his buttons popping off and out of his field of vision jerked him back into the reality of the moment. He hissed and wrenched within the iron grip of those tentacles, though his bared teeth and incised expression could no longer hide the surge of embarrassment that rushed onto his face. The shame was powerful by now, a creeping, intense humiliation that made him shiver and swallow heavily, because it was...lewd. He still had most of his clothes on, but that just made the tears in them that much more vulgar, drawing the eye to his stiff, eager dick and hard, flushed nipples.

He had to bite down on his lip to hold on to whatever sound it was that was building in his throat in response to the air, the slide of metal, and Tim's cool, easy words. "What...what the hell do you mean? Keep?"

[notlikeanyone]

"It's a simple concept. Like keeping... a pet." Tim knew that would just make Aomine angrier, more humiliated, chafe against his pride, but that was the point. The heated colour in the other boy's cheeks, the anger slowly being eaten away by embarrassment and arousal, was exactly what he wanted to see. It was more honest, more appealing than the ill-tempered derision he usually saw in Aomine's expression, the contempt he practically bled when he looked at everyone else.

He wouldn't deny it, to himself - it was satisfying, finally being able to confront his tormentor like this. Having his bully at his mercy, and not having to hold back. He leaned in to kiss Aomine quickly, forcefully, pushing his tongue into the other boy's mouth.

"I was - what?" He asked, low and pointed, as he broke the kiss and drew back, just as quickly. He punctuated it by giving Aomine's cock a firm squeeze, feeling him trembling hotly under his touch.

"Because I was an easy target? Someone nobody seemed to care about?" Both true enough. He dipped his head to flick his tongue over Aomine's trapped nipple, scraping his teeth over the taut peak.

"Because I never said anything, never fought back? Because I was... weak?" He had to pretend to be weak. Helpless. Every day, at school, he rendered himself vulnerable, and Aomine had taken advantage of it. He didn't have any friends to defend him, either.

"Because you could, Aomine?" That was the heart of it, wasn't it? Everything came together to mean that Aomine could pick on him, and no-one would stop him. No-one would even question it, no-one ever had, in the three months it had been going on. Some of the other kids had noticed, but they just laughed about it, if anything - on Aomine's side, because he was the jock. The sports star, who was only cruel to him. Why should anyone else care about that?

"But the truth is, you're weaker than me. By your own logic, that means I can do whatever I like to you, right? Just because I can." He started stroking Aomine's cock in earnest, hard, rough motions of his hand that were meant to be just a little bit painful, just enough to be felt alongside the pleasure they should cause.

[bluezone]

Pet.

If Aomine had had a hand free, he would have punched him, vampire or monster or not. Nobody said that to him, nobody, and his hands actually lurched against his bonds the instant his brain registered what Tim had said. Anger and pride actually overpowered any sense of self-preservation; he might have even spat something back at him, or spat at him, but Tim interrupted anything he might have said - he'd started to say something; it was supposed to be "Bastard!! - by silencing his words with his mouth.

Then it was just shock. Just shock, and heat on his face, and the warm, heavy presence of his tongue.

It's -

Hot -

In those few seconds, he didn't breathe, and once he was free, he had to gasp, and then gasp a second time, hips rocking. He could hear every word that Tim said, each one a hard stone that settled in his belly because it was the truth. He didn't even have to tell him; Tim knew, and had probably known all along. He knew that Aomine was selfish and self-centered, an unsympathetic asshole from the moment he'd realized he could do whatever he wanted so long as people got what they wanted out of him - in his case, championships, prestige, victory after victory after victory, which, for the private schools he went to, meant patronage and funding. He had something they had wanted, and so long as he had that, no one said a word to him, not even when he knew, deep down, that they should have (for his sake, and theirs).

All Tim seemed to want were his moans, and he got them, the other teen twisting, swearing, sucking in harsh breaths when his teeth caught on his nipple and sent a throb of pleasure straight to his groin. By the time he started to jerk him off for real, as painful as it was, Aomine couldn't hold in the sounds he made, each hard groan bursting past wet lips. It hurt, it burned, the friction stinging him even as it sent sweet, too-good waves of sensation through his hips.

"St - "

He was going to come. He could feel it, a hard, hot tightening between his thighs.

"Sh...it, stop...!"

Aomine was going to come and he wasn't going to be able to stop it, because Tim was right: he was weaker. He'd been too weak to do anything this entire time.

[notlikeanyone]

"No."

It was a simple answer, an easy, absolute refusal. Tim wasn't going to stop, and there was nothing Aomine could do to make him stop. Just like there'd been nothing Tim could do to make Aomine stop bullying him in class, nothing he could say to anyone to make it stop because they would have simply turned a deaf ear. He knew the teachers had noticed but chose to ignore it, and if he'd brought it up to them, they would have asked him what he thought he was doing to attract such treatment from the school team's prized signing. It would have been worse than useless.

He'd been rendered socially helpless, but now, Aomine was physically helpless. He saw the anger rise in the other boy, just as he'd expected - the lurching, aborted movements right before he kissed him. Had he been trying to punch him, even when he was firmly bound? Even when he was so afraid of his inhumanity? It was such an intense, blazing anger - and then it was gone, washed away by the shock he could feel running through Aomine as he kissed him, as hot and heavy and wet as he could make it. He was oddly satisfied that it was apparently a good enough kiss to take Aomine's breath away, leaving him gasping.

It really was the way that Aomine reacted that had sealed his fate. He was so loud, and it was so easy to get him there, to make him groan and twist with a few firm touches. He was even rocking his hips into Tim's hand, as if he wanted to be jerked off harder, as if he was trying to fuck Tim's hand for a second.

"I don't think you really want me to stop, anyway. You're... too hard," he paused over the words, trying them out the feel of them. He was programmed for a lot of different verbal patterns, for undercover hits, but somehow, he wanted to do this while remaining... mostly in his own identity.

"You just don't want to come yet, because this feels too good." He slid his free hand around the base of Aomine's cock, right behind the balls, circling it and squeezing tight. He was calculating just the right pressure to apply to keep Aomine hard and unable to come without really hurting him. He kept jerking him off roughly, swiping his thumb over the dark tip of his erection a few times, to rub against the slit and smear the sticky pre-come around.

[bluezone]

As soon as he was no longer able to, Aomine wanted nothing more than to be able to come.

He didn't understand at first what Tim was getting at, other than to step closer so that his words could fall more heavily in Aomine's ears. As bizarrely stilted as his dirty talk was - because that was what he was trying to do, wasn't it? Fuck, if Aomine hadn't been so desperate he would have laughed, because apparently sad losers were always sad losers, even if they killed people - it nevertheless made his heart pound and his body shake, irrefutable proof that everything was in Tim's hands. He was near enough for Aomine to take a bite out of him if he wanted to, what with his warm, warm neck so close and his breath brushing against his cheek, but although his jaw clenched and his shoulders strained, he couldn't force himself to act.

Especially when what Tim was up to became abruptly and powerfully clear, right as Aomine felt what would have been an orgasm crest at the bottom of his belly. He felt his balls clench and every muscle in his lower body went taut and trembling, and he sucked in a wild, stunted breath, and then nothing happened.

The face he made then was astonished and wrung-out when all the tension just dropped from his body, causing him to sag against his bonds, eyes wide and lips parted, his head swimming with lust and need and disbelief. It actually took him several long, dizzying seconds to recover enough to even think, because never in his life had he ever just stopped like that. Fuck, he didn't even know that could happen in the first place! He swallowed and trembled and heard himself make some awful, low sound that his pride didn't want to admit was an actual whimper.

"Ah, ahh fuck, l...let - " He squirmed, metal chafing where it curled between his limbs, his trousers bunching up at his thighs, his shirt and jacket riding up to expose the flat, muscular plain of his stomach, the whole picture he painted becoming more and more disheveled by the moment. "Let...go - ! Let go! Nngh, god, it..."

It was awful, it was awful, and his dick was oozing pre into Tim's hand, pleasure and want searing across his nerves with every hard stroke.

[notlikeanyone]

Tim could feel the tension rising in Aomine's body as he stroked him, he was leaning in so close. There was a moment when he thought the other boy might bite at his neck, and oh, wouldn't that hold a surprise for him? But no, the moment passed, the urge apparently lost to a wave of arousal and lust. It was almost funny, the look on his face when he just failed to reach orgasm, when he just didn't come, the motion ending abortively. It was clear that he was shocked, and he must have had no idea that it was so easy to deny him the relief that he was suddenly craving. How inexperienced was he...?

Everything Aomine was doing, from the look on his face to the sounds he was making, it was... it was...

"Cute."

It slipped out quietly, and he paused for a second afterwards. But then he was stroking Aomine again, still, his hand just as firm and rough with him as before, sticky with his pre-come.

He appreciated the way that Aomine's struggles were bunching up his uniform, exposing that flat, toned stomach, and fabric hinting at more underneath. It only took a thought, and the metal tentacles shifted to speed up the process, pushing his shirt up further and sliding into the hole around his crotch, down along his thighs, coiling and pushing until they started splitting the seams, exposing the soft, dark skin there.

"Do you want to come already? After all that... but no, not yet." He considered, and then added, "If you want something, you should say please."

[bluezone]

"Cute."

For a second, Aomine wasn't sure if his muddled, sex-hazed mind had really registered his words correctly. Tim didn't say shit like that - but then, he'd assumed that Tim didn't put on a costume and mete out vigilante justice, either. Cute; did he mean him? He could only mean him, flushed and panting, shaking from barely-suppressed want. He could only mean him, and his growing nakedness, cloth torn down and away from his thighs, his stomach, and then his ribs, and then the whole of his chest put on display. With the metal tentacles holding on to the ends of his limbs, he might as well have been wholly naked, only a few shreds of fabric stubbornly caught between the tendrils that wrapped around his groin and across his chest.

He didn't know how the fuck he could be cute; all of him was cut and well-shaped, a testament to his rigorously maintained athleticism. Nothing but lean muscle was on display, abs flexing, his legs and his pectorals gleaming from the sweat brought about by his exertions. In his mind's eye, he was the farthest thing from cute: he looked desperate, worn and pushed to near breaking, even when he abruptly went still.

Please.

Please.

It felt like some nerve, some last nerve, snapped in Aomine's head.

"Like...like hell!"

Before he did it, he subconsciously realized he was about to do something very, very stupid.

"Like hell I'll say please!"

Then, then, Aomine did that immensely, pointlessly stupid thing; pointless because, with the restraints, he might as well have been trying to nuzzle him. He just didn't have the room or the leverage to actually make anything hurt, but still -

He tried to headbutt the inhuman thing currently holding on to his aching dick.