Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

"All Black Knights, move into position!" Zero ordered from within the safety of his own Burai. "Remember, our objective is only the Knightmare unit; don't bother yourself with the researchers. They are no threat to us presently." His latest strategy was simple enough to understand. That annoying White Knightmare had repeatedly interfered with his plans, causing setback after setback; it was clearly an obstacle that had to be removed before he could further proceed with the next stage in bringing down Britannia.

Kallen’s voice echoed slightly over the ‘sound only’ transmission. “Zero, is this really the best way?”

Zero chuckled, understanding that his ace pilot wasn’t truly questioning his orders.  He knew that she was just disappointed because she wanted to trounce the pilot of that White Knightmare in a fair battle.  Thus far, that had proven impossible; the enemy pilot was exceptionally skilled, and all the Black Knights knew that fact irked Kallen to no end.  Instead of waiting for the next fight, the knights for justice were going to control all the conditions.  Their current mission focused on the utter destruction of Britannia’s latest toy.

“This is our best course of action in the long-term,” the rebellion leader assured his underlings.

Of course it would have been ideal to steal the White Knightmare for their own gain, but such an operation was far too costly for the sake of time and resources. Destroying the machine would instead well serve their agenda.

It wasn't that difficult to pinpoint the location of the laboratory where it was kept when not in use. Intelligence had gathered data linking the machine to the Advanced Special Envoy Engineering Corp and a man called Lloyd Asplund, apparently well-known in his field and ridiculously proud of his latest creation. Zero could not say he shared the scientist's enthusiasm, but that was to be expected given the circumstances. From that point, it was easy to track the famous Knightmare-designer to the university where he received funding and, conveniently, carried out his work. All the data—as well as the tracking device they'd recently slipped onto it—pointed to the fact that the White Knightmare was contained in that same university, and Lelouch had had to laugh when he’d learned it was the institute directly across from Ashford Academy.

Though it proved difficult to pull off an operation so deep in the Tokyo Settlement, it was definitely manageable under Zero's carefully laid plans. With access to so many armored trucks and personnel carriers—due mainly to the Kyoto Group's recent generosity—it was easy to sneak their own Knightmares unseen from the Eleven Ghettos into the Settlement. Zero was almost certain that, with the element of surprise on their side, the Black Knights could burst into the Research and Development Center and annihilate the White Knightmare while it was shut down and unattended; after all, without its pilot, Britannia’s latest model was useless. Destroying the machine (as well as the research behind it) was not scheduled to take long, and the university was rumored to have been filled with only researchers—not skilled soldiers who could put an end to the Black Knights' operation. If they worked fast enough in locating and demolishing the White Knightmare, they would have enough time to escape before reinforcements arrived. It was a lucky break that came from the Britannian machine being held offsite of a standard military base.

"What should we do if we see researchers?" Ohgi asked, wanting to clarify.

Zero answered immediately. "If they aren't carrying weapons, ignore them. Spare anyone who doesn't seem to have anything to do with this lab. This is a university, and there are innocents here." His mind conjured up an image of Suzaku, who was staying in the dorms here at the university as it was more convenient for him to carry out his military duties. Though he was an Honorary Britannian soldier, and thus technically an enemy, Suzaku was still Lelouch's best friend—or rather, more than that. At the thought, the schoolboy rebellion leader lowered his head in acute embarrassment. Seconds later, he tensed. An annoyed tick developed in his left eye and he shook himself out of it; he couldn't afford to be distracted by thoughts of his lover while in the middle of an operation. Gritting his teeth, he raised his eyes, newfound determination glinting in their violet depths.

Lelouch couldn't risk Suzaku getting hurt.

"Right," Kallen answered, echoed by her teammates.

Zero nodded to himself. It was time to put an end to a consistent problem. "Move out! Smash the White Knightmare and use escape routes F-15 and D-7. Rendezvous at Point B before moving back to base. You all have your orders!"

With a chorus of cries of, "Yes, Zero!" a handful of loyal Black Knights tore a hole through the university wall with their Knightmares and disappeared inside, readying their attacks on a defenseless piece of machinery. Their leader followed more slowly, taking in all the details and issuing commands as needed. Yes, he may have employed underhanded tactics—but at this point, the only thing of importance was that the White Knightmare be obliterated. Destroying the machine like this was not an honorable way to win, but there was a higher prediction of success with this plan than simply waiting to deal with it in the midst of battle—especially since the latter option had failed on numerous occasions.

Besides, it wasn't as if the Britannians played fair either.

A sharp cry directed Zero's attention to a serious problem. One of the Black Knights—Tamaki, by the look of it—had abandoned course and was swinging his Burai at an unarmed uniformed soldier. Lelouch's breath caught in his throat as he recognized the profile—Suzaku. Why was his boyfriend near the lab of the Britannian Knightmare research facility? Yes, he roomed at the university, but his specialty was not associated with the front lines or Knightmare research. He was a simple mechanic, so he had no business being caught up in Black Knights operations! None at all.

"Tamaki!" Zero reprimanded, hoping the note of hysteria did not carry through the transmission. "What are you doing?! Focus. Follow Q-1 and destroy the Knightmare!"

In his usual hotheaded manner, Tamaki growled back, "But Zero, it's that traitor Kururugi! The asshole who turned his back on his own people! Don't worry, Zero, he's got nothing and I have my Burai. I can take him out no problem!"

"I said get back to the task at hand!" Zero ordered sharply. Between worrying about Suzaku and maintaining his image as a faultless rebellion leader, he was a bit high-strung at the moment. Tamaki was always screwing up, but messing with Suzaku was one thing Lelouch just would not tolerate. Growling, Zero threatened, "I won't rescue you if you get captured since you're not following my orders. Leave Kururugi alone and stop holding us up!"

Lelouch knew Suzaku was exceptionally skilled, but a mere human was no match for a Knightmare. Breathing a sigh of relief, he watched as Tamaki reluctantly changed pace yet again and followed the others. "That was close," Lelouch moaned, feasting his eyes on the sight of Suzaku's unharmed body. He'd seen his lover not two days ago, but already he was missing Suzaku's warmth. Groaning, he realized he had to act as the enemy; it wouldn't do for Zero to show special favoritism towards a foe. Tearing himself away, Zero sped after his subordinates. Suzaku was running in the same direction, but Zero was driving a wheeled machine. Zero arrived first—barely.

Kallen was dutifully attacking the White Knightmare with her Guren Mk. II, making steady progress with its destruction. Tamaki was just joining her and some other fighter-units when Zero arrived. Ohgi was acting as a shield, keeping the researchers from interfering. One distraught white-haired man was on the floor bawling his eyes out, repeatedly banging his fist on the floor and choking out, "My poor Lancelot!" A blue-haired woman knelt beside him, obviously trying to offer some comfort but not succeeding since she was so on edge herself.

"Lancelot?" Zero said to himself. "Is that the pilot—no, it's the Knightmare. I wonder who is the pilot of that thing? It seems to be a big secret even within the military. Intelligence couldn't get anything on it. Gah, it's so irritating not knowing!" He smashed his fist on the dashboard in front of him, releasing his frustration. Then he smirked. Alarm bells were ringing and there was the obvious chaos caused by the Black Knights' abrupt appearance, but the White Knightmare—Lancelot—was being destroyed according to plan.

"Suzaku, save my Lancelot!" the white-haired man whined.

Suzaku stopped running to take in the situation. Panicked green eyes zipped over the room, trying to count the number of enemy Knightmares. Gulping, he shouted, "There…there are so many of them; the one unit we have is under attack! Miss Cecile, what happens now?!"

The kneeling woman tried to tug the hysterical crying man off the floor. Exasperation mixed with pity as the calmer scientist looked to Suzaku and slowly explained, "There's nothing we can do now, Suzaku. We don't have the resources to handle this on our own. The Black Knights have the Lancelot; the only thing we can do is stay safe until reinforcements arrive."

Zero smirked again. It seemed this woman had some common sense. Yes, it was better to stay out of his way…

"There must be something we can do!" Suzaku yelled—then dashed foolishly towards the throng of twisting Knightmares.

Lelouch's smirk fell. "No, you idiot!" he screamed, instinctively thrusting his own Knightmare between his lover and said lover's imminent death. "Do you want to die?!" There went the protocol of not showing special favoritism towards a foe.

Suzaku stumbled back from the Burai's sudden appearance, then squinted at the cockpit. Recognition surged in Suzaku's face after hearing Zero's deep, echoing voice, and he yelled in disbelief, "Zero?! Why would you…?"

"Yeah, why would you save him?" Tamaki shouted, similar calls erupting from other Black Knights members.

Zero swallowed, but his voice was clear and confident when he addressed his underlings. "You'd rather him die? His is still a life worth protecting."

"'Worth' on what scale?!" Tamaki demanded. "He's a worthless traitor in my book! He deserves to die!"

Zero clenched a fist and snarled, "'Worth' on my scale!" A hush fell over the entire laboratory; Lelouch noticed how Suzaku himself seemed to have stopped breathing. Taking a deep breath, Zero calmly explained, "That aside, Kururugi is Japanese. We are fighting Britannia. We are fighting for Japan. You would target a misguided Japanese adolescent?" He paused for a moment to let his words sink in before adding, "I didn't go through the trouble of saving him from execution so I could kill him myself. If you want to continue to bear the title of Black Knight, then you will follow my orders and let Kururugi live. Do not question me!"

There was another long silence after that intense outburst. Hesitantly, Ohgi spoke up in support of his leader. "I think Zero did the right thing. There's no point in killing if we don't have to—and besides, like Zero said, Kururugi is Japanese."

"Yeah, but I bet he wishes he was Britannian!" Tamaki sneered. He obviously would not have dared to utter such words in response to Zero, but he felt comfortable tossing them out after Ohgi's input.

"That's enough!" Zero snapped. "Hurry, before the Britannian military arrives. We're not here to discuss Kururugi. Carry on with the mission!"

Suzaku looked quizzically at the Zero's Knightmare, clearly still trying to understand why the enemy rebellion leader would save him. Just because he was Japanese? By the highly skeptical look on his face, Suzaku didn't buy it. "Why are you here then?!" Suzaku shouted, voice barely audible over the renewed sound of clanging metal.

Zero sighed before projecting his answer. "Isn't it obvious? We're here to destroy the Lancelot. It's caused me enough problems. But don't worry; we know you are blameless and you have my word that you and your fellow innocents will not be harmed." It was doubtful Suzaku would trust the word of a wanted terrorist, but the Lelouch still wanted to throw it out there. Just in case.

Green eyes widened in disbelief, but Lelouch knew those eyes well and could pinpoint the relief and gratitude swirling in their depths. Suzaku would always choose the path with the least amount of bloodshed, and if it meant sacrificing a high-class military project for the sake of saving lives, then so be it.

His white-haired coworker, however, seemed to disagree. "Not my Lancelot!" he cried again, waving his arms emphatically. "You can have Kururugi, just spare Lancelot!"

"Lloyd!" the blue-haired woman shrieked, twisting his ear. "You know we would never give up Suzaku! Why do you still say these sorts of things?" She turned to Suzaku with a wide, inappropriate smile (considering the circumstances) and reassured him, "Don't worry, Suzaku. Lloyd just needs to work on his manners. You're completely safe with us." She continued to beam at Suzaku, who looked a bit uncomfortable regardless.

Resting his head on his palm, Zero surveyed the scene on the floor. Hm, so that must be Lloyd Asplund. He's the one who created that monstrosity. Should we capture him? His talents would certainly be useful, but he works for Britannia now. He can't be trusted. I could always use my Geass, but the Black Knights would be too suspicious.

"Zero!" Kallen's voice jerked him back to the main mission. "The lookouts just warned us that Britannian infantry are headed this way. What should we do?"

Zero cast a critical eye over the misshapen heap of twisted white Lancelot. It wasn't utterly destroyed, but it was certainly not in any kind of working condition. It would take weeks, if not months, for Asplund and his team to repair it—especially with some of their research stations and spare Knightmare equipment smashed as well. A sizable amount of data was lost. That was good enough. Though it meant the Black Knights had a narrower time window to advance their plans, it was doable. With their mission objective achieved, they could afford to retreat. "Withdraw! Follow your assigned escape routes." Lelouch left last, keeping one eye trained on Suzaku until he disappeared from sight.

-+-

Yawning, Lelouch collapsed into his seat Monday morning. He'd spent nearly all weekend with the Black Knights. Saturday was spent fine-tuning his strategies and readying everything for the operation; Sunday was spent putting the plan into effect. School just seemed such a waste of time when compared to his exploits as masked rebellion leader Zero, Britannia's greatest threat. He'd been lucky his latest plan had gone off without attracting unnecessary complications, though he was still confused by Suzaku's role in all this.

The more he thought about it, though, the more it seemed to make sense. It wasn't like Suzaku accompanied the Advanced Special Envoy Engineering Corp to the front lines. It must have just been bad luck that he was working that day in close proximity to that accursed White Knightmare. Really, it was Lelouch's own fault for attacking 'behind the scenes.'

Drumming his fingers on his desk, Lelouch stared out the window, deep in thought. Of course Suzaku would not be in class today; after yesterday's stunts, Lelouch doubted his lover would be free of the military for at least a week. It hurt knowing that, but it was a sacrifice necessary in bringing about the downfall of Britannia. At least his last meeting with Suzaku was memorable… Cheeks heating up at the vivid memories, he scolded himself internally and willed himself to calm down. When he was reasonably sure he wasn't blushing, he chanced a look around—just to be sure nobody had seen. He was met with open, horrified stares and mocking laughter from his classmates.

Wait. That didn't seem right.

Even if he was caught blushing, his schoolmates wouldn't react like this. Did he have rice on his face again? But no, he hadn't eaten Japanese food for breakfast…

"Hey, Lamperouge. Do your pants feel empty without Kururugi's hand down there?" More derisive laughter erupted from the students in the room.

Lelouch felt his pulse begin to race. "What are you talking about?" he asked with forced casualty, attempting to stay calm and in control, to appear clueless about the topic under discussion. He was relieved he managed to answer in a steady voice, not a quiver present to give anything away. How in the world did his classmates know about him and Suzaku…? They'd done everything in their power to keep their relationship secret. True, it was bound to get out sooner or later—especially as they were two of the most talked about boys in school even before they were a collective 'it'—but how in the world were they discovered?

Nervous sweat started to slide down the back of his neck. Trying not to panic, his mind raced through all the possibilities. Where had he not covered his tracks? When it came to that, if his class knew about his feelings for Suzaku, what else could they possibly know? About his Geass power, about his identity as Zero—or even his identity as an outcast prince of Britannia? He had to figure out how much they knew before he could deal with the problem.

The students tittered among themselves, ignoring his question.

Frowning, Lelouch searched for anyone brave enough to meet his stare. Rivalz held eye-contact for a second, then closed his eyes and slowly shook his head in either warning or disappointment. Lelouch lifted an eyebrow at this odd behavior but figured he could confront his friend about it later—preferably after he understood the situation. Moving on, his gaze locked with Shirley's. She nodded to him once, disengaging herself from a conversation with her friend Sophie, before making her way across the room to him.

"Is it true?" she asked, her words escaping in a strangled whisper.

Lelouch continued frowning, but his tone was civil when he responded. "Is what true? How can I answer if I don't know what you're talking about?"

Shirley sniffled and leaned closer for privacy, her red-orange hair spilling over her shoulders. Her face was drawn, almost as if she was dreading what was coming next. "I just heard from Sophie that you and Suzaku are…erm…that way. Together. Are you with him, Lelou?" She made sure to keep her voice low, ever respectful of Lelouch's private life, but some surrounding students managed to overhear anyway. They stopped what they were doing, wanting to hear Lelouch defend himself.

Paling at the question, Lelouch caught sight of the eavesdroppers. "Shirley. I, um…can we talk about this later?" He shifted in his seat but tried to look like he wasn't fidgeting; Lelouch Lamperouge did not fidget. "Perhaps during the Council meeting today?" he suggested, almost desperate for the current conversation to end. He needed time to plan what he was going to say.

Shirley stared at him for a long moment, her green eyes—not as dark and lovely as Suzaku's—now brimming with tears. She searched his gaze before surprising him with, "I see." Offering him a watery smile of encouragement, she took a hasty step back to give him distance; she knew how he hated having his personal space invaded. Shirley held her hands up to her heart, maybe reacting to a sudden onslaught of pain in her chest, before she looked down at the floor; the realization that her longtime crush loved someone else was surely deeply upsetting. And to be looked over for a guy, at that! Lelouch could just imagine what thoughts were racing through Shirley's mind. Shirley hiccuped, closing her eyes and squeezing tears from the corners. Lelouch knew it must have been hard to keep smiling for his sake when she clearly felt like her own heart was splitting in two.

"I'm sorry, Shirley," Lelouch said, at a loss about what to do for her. She was one of his good friends, after all, and he didn't want to see her hurt. It was inevitable, though, when looking at her feelings for him and his feelings for Suzaku. He would never be hers, especially while Suzaku was available.

The onlookers gaped at each other. They'd heard the question; Shirley's reaction—as well as Lelouch's apology—depicted a clear answer. There was no public confession of love, but the infamous pretty boy's words and regretful tone were all the answer needed to pinpoint the truth. Lelouch Lamperouge had, in a roundabout way, admitted to dating the Eleven, Kururugi Suzaku.

Lelouch held back a groan. How in the world did this secret leak out? Nunnally was the only one they'd told, but she would never betray her brother's confidence. Sayoko had most likely figured it out, but she knew how to keep secrets. Shirley had said she'd heard the news from Sophie, but where had Sophie picked up this information? And what about the rest of his class? Scowling, he turned back to the window. He didn't want to deal with their judgmental stares, and what was worse, he had to face this by himself. Lelouch reminded himself that it was because of his own efforts that Suzaku was not in school today to share his shame—but on second thought, maybe it was better this way. His Japanese lover suffered enough at the hands of racist Britannians on school grounds without having to deal with the current drama; it would be best if he returned to school after all the initial hype died down.

"The Culture Club," sounded a voice from behind him.

Lelouch whipped around to face the speaker, his gaze landing on his friend and gambling partner, Rivalz. "Excuse me?" he asked, his tone strained.

Rivalz chuckled awkwardly. "Well, you know the Student Council isn't the only group that meets in the Clubhouse Hall. Some of the students from the Culture Club stayed late on Friday to finish some kind of project…and well, they saw you and Suzaku on the staircase."

Slipping his eyes shut at this tidbit of information, Lelouch let an unbidden sigh escape his lips. The Council meeting had ended early on Friday, and he and Suzaku had not exercised caution in their excitement to feel each other once they were finally—seemingly—alone. Normally, they'd wait until they were enclosed in the safety of Lelouch's bedroom before pawing at each other, but on Friday evening they were too desperate to rekindle contact after a long period apart—which they’d both blamed on Suzaku's military duties. Teenager hormones were wonderful motivators, but they scarcely led to good ideas in the long run.

Lelouch cursed to himself under his breath, berating himself for not protesting more at the time. He'd given in to Suzaku's advances on the grand staircase, submitting to his lover's charms, even knowing they were in an exposed environment. He was smarter than that, but Suzaku's hands on him had felt too good to ignore, too good to push away.

"They had a camera," Rivalz continued, completely oblivious to Lelouch's mounting rage and discomfort. "They thought it would be good blackmail, but one of them—I don't know who—blabbed and you know how word gets around here. There are a few copies of the photo floating around campus. I don't know how many, but there are enough that pretty much everyone has seen proof of…uh…you and Suzaku…um…fooling around. Anyone who hasn't seen it has heard about it, and well, there you have it."

Lelouch growled, "Let me see the picture!" His eyes flashed, and he had to actively prevent himself from enforcing the command with Geass. He didn't need the power this time to compel Rivalz; he needed to know what the blackmail image contained so he knew what he was up against. If he was lucky, maybe he could downplay its significance and try to pass something off as looking like they were doing something scandalous. Even if everyone knew how he felt about Suzaku, maybe the rumors wouldn't be so extreme if he could gently nudge them in another direction.

Rivalz squeaked at Lelouch's understandably angry tone. "I don't know who has a copy," he mumbled, not meeting Lelouch's eye. "Are you…is it really true though?"

Lelouch had to work to keep himself under control. "Rivalz," he explained as painstakingly gently as he could, "Shirley just asked me that. I didn't explain anything to her. So can we please discuss this later?" His tone booked no argument, and Rivalz only nodded. Lelouch supposed he could sympathize: his friend was obviously shocked at the news and didn't know what to think anymore. Still, his own situation was far worse, and Lelouch had to think of himself first.

A shaking hand slid a facedown picture across Lelouch's desk. "Here, Lelou," Shirley offered; her eyes were red and puffy from crying. "Sophie had a copy, and I knew you'd want to see it. As painful as it is."

Lelouch blinked at her, speechless yet again. Shirley was clearly heartbroken over the news, but she was still putting him first. What had he done to gain such devotion? He squeezed her hand in silent thanks and slowly flipped the picture over, preparing himself for the worst. Rivalz and Shirley surrounded him, blocking his expression from the rest of their nosy classmates. He scanned the photo and narrowed his eyes in displeasure; then, he pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to avoid a headache. Of course. The picture showed the relationship for exactly what it was, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

The photograph portrayed a messy state of half-dressed boys—easily recognizable as Kururugi Suzaku and Lelouch Lamperouge—desperately clinging to each other on the grand staircase in the Clubhouse Hall. Suzaku was draped over Lelouch, pinning him against the stair railing, his lips firmly attached to Lelouch's neck. They were plastered against one another except for a gap between their groins, existing only so Suzaku had room to work his fingers. Suzaku's hand had noticeably wriggled its way deep into Lelouch's pants; his other hand was clutching the ebony hair at the back of Lelouch's nape. Lelouch's pants were gaping open, slung low on his hips, but Suzaku's hand inside there obscured anything too private from being displayed. Lelouch had, in turn, wrapped his arms around Suzaku's shoulders, fingers clenched in Suzaku's uniform jacket. His head was thrown back, thin, black strands of hair flying, his own eyes squinted in pleasure. A mere slit of amethyst peered down at a head of brown hair. His mouth was open in a silent scream—or perhaps it was a moan—and it was obvious just what was putting such extreme emotion on his face.

That extreme emotion was meant to be for Suzaku's eyes only. The position showed the relationship for what it was. Lelouch had a public image to uphold, and the picture did a fine job of destroying it; he'd clearly lost control. It was easy to note who had whom up against the wall—or in this case, a stair railing—and just who was pulling the strings. It hurt Lelouch's pride when he thought about how he gave up precious control to Suzaku—willingly. His best friend was the only one he could trust, and their moment of intimacy was meant to stay between them. Instead, that private moment was laid bare for all to see, exposing personal feelings and hidden truths. Now everyone knew.

-+-

A moment. That was all he needed. Just long enough to gather his thoughts before the Student Council meeting. His limbs felt like deadweight as he slipped into the men's room; he managed to keep his stride graceful until he reached the far wall. Clutching the edges of a pristine white sink, he used it as support while he leaned towards the bathroom mirror. Slowly, Lelouch let his eyes flicker over his image, assessing the day's build-up of stress on his body. His shoulders were noticeably tense, and there was something missing in his expression—the gleam of cockiness in his eyes had dimmed somewhat in light of recent events. His brow was furrowed, and his lips were stretched in a thin line, turned down at the corners in an evident frown. Letting his eyes slip shut, he heaved a sigh and gripped the sink harder. He lowered his head, black bangs shielding his eyes.

He took another deep breath, then straightened and forced himself to meet his reflection's gaze. So what if people didn't understand what he had with Suzaku? He didn't care what other people thought anyway—not about things like this. Scowling, he turned on the faucet and splashed cool water on his face. As he was rubbing the sleeve of his uniform over his wet nose, it happened.

The electric lights flicked off, and the entire bathroom was thrown into pitch-black.

Lelouch's immediate reaction was to freeze and assess the situation. Before he could figure the cause (random blackout, a cut wire, someone accidentally hitting the light switch, someone deliberately hitting the light switch…) he was grabbed from behind in a death grip, arms locked like steel around his delicate neck. He tried to yell, but all that came out was a ragged choking sound; fingers automatically flew to tug at the offending limbs, but he was too weak to move them but an inch. The sudden darkness and pressure on his body were disorienting, and he felt dizzy at the sudden sensations; he couldn't remember how to breathe. Arms constricted tighter around his trachea in response to his flailing, making him choke more, and an elbow dug painfully into his bobbing Adam's apple.

Twisting his entire body around within the hold—on pure adrenaline—he managed to tilt his head in the direction he presumed lay his attacker's head. A sickly red glow burned to life in his left eye, its eerie light not doing much to penetrate the shadows, and he choked an order: "Let go of me." It was impossible to initiate eye-contact in total darkness—especially when he was being jostled about—so the command had no effect whatsoever. Geass was useless; without it, he was powerless.

“What the hell was that?” exclaimed a voice near Lelouch's ear, naggingly familiar but for the panic and asphyxiation shutting down his brain.

Another body barreled into the locked duo, sending both Lelouch and his first attacker to the floor. The solid hold around his neck loosened at the fall, and Lelouch, wheezing from the stranglehold, quickly took advantage of that to squirm his way to freedom.

"Fuck, moron!" griped the other person on the floor. "That was me, not the traitor faggot!"

Lelouch frowned, his ears ringing at the harsh words. By that statement, he knew for sure why he was being targeted; his stomach dropped at the implications. It was all planned. He was in danger here; these people meant to seriously harm him. The voice bouncing off the walls was familiar, but he just couldn't place it. The only thing he could deduce was that it was masculine and most likely belonged to a classmate. It wasn't deep enough to belong to a full-grown man, so the probability of his attacker being a professor was slim to nothing. More likely, these people were students his own age; that made them more dangerous, in a way.

The tile floor was cold under his bare fingertips, and the sound of nearby scuffling was too close for comfort. Biting his lip, Lelouch worked on controlling his cough; his neck was surely bruised, and he was still finding it difficult to inhale and exhale. After a few gasping moments, he coached himself on breathing slowly through his nose. If he could just stay quiet until he reached the bathroom door—if he could manage to not draw attention to himself—

Another youngish male voice sounded from somewhere above and to the left of him. "Sorry! I can't see in the dark, y'know. Why'd you shut the lights anyhow?!"

The first boy growled. "So he can't see our faces. Are you stupid?" There was some rustling, and then a bang and a yelp as the first attacker shuffled to his feet, the soles of his shoes squeaking on the newly-cleaned floor—and then immediately tripped over the crawling getaway prince, knocking the wind out of Lelouch. "Aha!" he whispered triumphantly, grabbing hold of a spindly ankle. "I found the bitch, so let's hurry up! This place is too public; we need to move before anyone walks in on this!"

"Hold him in place. I got the blindfold!" exclaimed the proud second attacker.

Lelouch winced as someone grabbed his hair and yanked him backwards. An aching pain radiated from his lower back—a courtesy of being stepped on. He opened his mouth to scream, but a thick gag quickly muffled his shrieked protest. He sank his teeth into the offending wad of cloth, trying to jerk away from the fingers brushing against his head. Thin strands of hair tangled with the knotted strings holding the gag in place; said strings cut forcefully into the corners of his lips, biting into his skin all the way around his skull. Saliva pooled under his tongue and dribbled out his mouth, soaking the gag. Simultaneously, Lelouch felt a coarse, burlap cloth press against his eyes and stretch around his head, rendering his Geass power worthless. His heartbeat quickened and, panicking, Lelouch instinctively tried to claw the two boys off of him; it was a futile effort.

For the first time, the original attacker bothered to speak directly to his victim. "Don't bother struggling, Lamperouge. Everyone on campus knows a five-year-old little girl could beat you up." His tone carried mocking amusement, and he hauled the defenseless Britannian boy to his feet by the hair.

Lelouch tensed and gritted his teeth at his weakness, feeling some of his hair pull out from the roots. His arms were yanked roughly behind his back, joints popping in his shoulders from the harsh treatment. Lelouch hated how they had him cornered. Most of the student body had been avoiding him since first period when he'd inadvertently admitted he was, more or less, in love with Suzaku. Even Shirley and Rivalz were keeping their distance, not even wanting to accompany him to the Council meeting. Though they'd stood by him in the morning, they both needed time to adjust and think before the upcoming discussion; Lelouch understood their need to compose themselves privately, Shirley especially. He'd needed that peace and solitude himself. The whole situation concerning Suzaku had wound him up into a tight ball of anxiety, and he knew he wasn't the only one affected by the stress. But to think that some of his schoolmates would actually jump him like this…

They must have been waiting for me to be completely alone, Lelouch thought to himself. He cringed, feeling lightheaded at being completely trapped. No Geass, no nearby friends to help, no physical strength or stamina to fight, no way to talk himself out of this one or play mind games…

Wholly bound and helpless, he was utterly screwed any which way he thought about it. His blood chilled, and jabs of icy fear stabbed his spine, almost paralyzing him. Shaking as they were, his legs could barely hold him up. He staggered when hands roughly pushed him forward. Sightless eyes widened uselessly behind the blindfold: judging by the number of hands on him, there were at least three attackers, not two like he'd previously concluded. His head buzzed at this new information.

With a creak, the men's room door swung open and, bound, Lelouch was pushed out of the bathroom; a hint of light invaded his eyesight now that he was out of the pitch-black of the bathroom, though it did nothing to help him regain his sight since the blindfold was still secure on his head. Without warning, his assailants started dragging him in some unknown direction. It took about ten minutes for them to reach their secret destination—Lelouch was meticulously counting the seconds in his head—and not once did he hear anyone who could offer him help. Campus seemed to be deserted. Where were all the clubs? Surely they weren't all canceled; it was the beginning of the week! Trying to scream for help around the gag resulted in harsher shoves. Dread and anticipation churned in his stomach. The combined strength of the attackers swept him along; his lower arms burned behind his back from the might of their grip. He had no choice but to be hauled away, even though his mind was screaming bloody murder at every forced step.

The loud bang of a door closing called his thoughts back to the real world, and he was violently pushed to lie face-down on a rough, wooden bench. The room smelled horribly of sweat and dirt, and there was the faint sensation of moisture in the air. Lelouch grimaced at the thought of all those germs spreading to his clothes and skin. It wasn't hard to figure out that they'd dragged him to the boy's locker room, a place both deserted and last on the list of places he would ever willingly go, being as finicky and OCD as he was. Since it was after school, no one would need the gym lockers. Everyone knew that sports clubs had their own private changing rooms not associated with those needed for physical education classes. A cold feeling of hopelessness washed over him, and Lelouch's racing thoughts circled his mind in a frenzy: This is it, then. They took away all my options. I'm completely at their mercy, and no one's coming to help me. There's no way out of this!

Lost in thought, he was jerked back to reality by a crushing weight on his back, once more squeezing the breath out of him. His chest almost caved under the pressure, and he gasped for air around the gag cloth as black spots swam across his limited vision. He felt two sets of hands wrench his arms and legs around the wooden seat bench. His arms were brutally looped around the bench as if in a forced sort of hug, and his wrists were tied together under the seat with a tight cord. Made to straddle the bench, his legs were yanked around the seat similar to how his arms were positioned; because his legs did not bend the same way, the sides of the bench rode into the underside of his knee and the pads of his feet pressed together underneath the seat. His ankles, too, were tied with a thick cord. Unceremoniously, after Lelouch was completely tied down, the weight vanished off his back and the gag, removed. His mouth was too dry, and he started hacking.

Once he'd gotten himself under control, he waited for his salivary glands to work again and spat, "What is the meaning of this?!" His tone earned him a sharp slap in the face, but he only grunted and kept right on complaining. Fear made him angry, and helplessness made him desperate. "Unhand me at once!" His tone was a bit more panicky than he'd have liked to use under normal circumstances, but these were anything but. Lelouch was used to being on top of things to an insane degree; never in his life had he felt more on bottom. His body was burning now; the hot, damp air was stifling his lungs. Eyebrows drawing together, he warned in a low tone, "You're making a mistake—"

The leader laughed. "Right. We already went over this, pretty boy. Your physical strength is nothing to be admired, and we’re not afraid of that Eleven boyfriend you're so proud of. There's nothing you can do." The speaker ended with a stinging slap to Lelouch's bottom to prove his point, maybe trying to smack the arrogance out of him. "We thought it bad enough that you stuck up for that Eleven trash when he first came here, but now you're sleeping with that piece of shit? What the fuck is the matter with you, man? How could you become Kururugi’s little bitch?"

The up-'til-now silent attacker joined in with, "It would be one thing if you were fucking him. As an Eleven, he's just a sex toy for your pleasure…but it seems clear to us that you're taking it up the ass from Kururugi! How humiliating! Don't you have any self-respect as a Britannian?!" The third boy's tone sounded genuinely appalled at Lelouch's behavior, as if he couldn't think of anything viler than treating an Eleven as an equal. 

Lelouch sensed a presence directly above him right before a sticky glob of spit landed in his hair. It oozed downwards, catching on his earlobe and leaving a warm, disgusting trail of wetness down the side of his face. He shuddered, shaking his head to try to fling off the spittle, and his heart plummeted as he instinctively pulled at his bindings. They were strong, and bile rose in his throat at the thought of being trapped. He'd always valued control over anything else, and to be at someone else's mercy…

Being powerless was terrifying to a normal person, but for him it was simply bloodcurdling. He listened to his assaulters with half an ear, already predicting the racist dribble that would spill from their mouths. "Don't you have any self-respect as human beings?! Untie me, dammit!" he demanded angrily, not pleading at all. Pride wouldn't allow for begging.

The other boys chuckled at his show of defiance. His hot breath fouling the air, the leader of the group leaned down to whisper in Lelouch's ear, "No. Not until you understand what you're doing wrong, Lamperouge." He snorted. "You're still under the mistaken impression that it's all right for that Eleven filth to touch you. Oh, how the mighty have fallen!"

Lelouch frowned, trying to draw a connection. These people obviously hated his Japanese lover; had he come across them often before? It was definitely a possibility, considering the student population size at Ashford Academy. "By saying this, are you the ones who sprayed Suzaku's gym uniform with graffiti? Are you the ones who bully—" he asked, voice starting to shake as it sunk in that he was really and truly trapped with no way out. His mind conjured up an image of Suzaku’s normal tormentors, but something about the voices didn’t seem right… Or at least, not all of—

Seconds later, the theory faded from his mind like chaffsmoke. He had something more important to focus on. His skin crawled as he felt his attackers' invasive hands start to roam over his body. Even through his clothes, their touches burned. How dare they; he belonged to Suzaku! He'd made that perfectly clear. That, of course, was the entire reason he’d been dragged there, strapped down and stripped of all defenses on a wooden bench in the first place.

"You should be worrying about yourself more than your little boyfriend's clothes, bitch." The harsh reprimand grated against Lelouch's ears with a sense of foreboding, the words warning him of callous punishment yet to come.

There was the sound of rustling, and then a pinging sound of something metal against the wet, tiled floor. "Whoops, dropped the knife," drawled one of the boys in a too-innocent tone.

Lelouch froze up. Wasn’t it about now that someone—say, Suzaku—should miraculously appear and save him?

But nobody came.

A scraping noise sounded from the ground, and Lelouch deduced that someone had snatched up the knife; his theory was proven correct when there was a tugging sensation on his pants, accompanied by the sound of tearing fabric and a fresh wave of air over previously-covered skin. The comforting weight of his long school pants disappeared; a soft thump to the right directed his attention to their new location, ripped to shreds as they must be. The sharp, steel edge of the knife nicked his waist and legs every so often, drawing thin, stinging cuts of blood.

"Look at those black bikini briefs!" the leader of the group wolf-whistled. "Man, he really is a sissy. I betcha he wears that tight underwear for Kururugi's sake." Sharing another laugh at his expense, the racist teenagers slit the bottom of Lelouch's 'sissy underwear' with their knife, being sure to drag the metallic blade teasingly against the underside of his penis. “That right, Lamperouge?” the main assaulter kept taunting. “You model your hard cock in this underwear for Kururugi? Maybe treat him to a show?” When the tight, stretchy fabric fell to either side of his hips, they reached between his spread thighs, grabbing at his exposed genitals from behind.

Lelouch gasped, freezing up. Goosebumps rose on his now exposed legs, pleasant tingles mixing with abject horror and fear. "Wha-what are you doing?" In a state of disbelief, he licked his dry lips, trying to inch away; he didn't succeed, seeing as how he was still bound tightly to the bench. Cold and creepy, the knife was too sharp an instrument to be in such close proximity to his most precious body part. Their groping hands did not make a better substitute; they were sweaty and, most assuredly, riddled with germs, not to mention horrid intentions. Those touches didn't account for anything save humiliation and shame. His body heated up again, and his toes curled; he was utterly revolted by the slight pleasure he felt. “O-oh!” he groaned, disgusted with himself as much as them. None of these people were Suzaku, so he didn't want any part of their bodies touching any part of his.

"If you let that fucking Eleven touch you like this, it's only fair you let us. Besides, we're all Britannians here, aren't we?" The proud, enthusiastic third attacker explained, as if their shared nationality made it all right. He squeezed Lelouch's limp member, hissing as it didn't harden under his touch. "Maybe he really is defective if he can only get it up for an Eleven." His tone was insulted, as if he couldn't believe the nerve Lelouch displayed to respond to a lowly Eleven but not to him, a high-class pureblood Britannian.

"Hmph. Lamperouge's a fag, at least, so as guys we fit half the criteria for his preferences," sneered the leader. With a sniff, he ordered, "Keep working on him. He'll stir down there soon enough if we keep at it."

Unable to hold back another moan, Lelouch played it to his advantage. Mentally smirking, he gasped, “O-ohhh, Suzaku!”

Immediately, the leader spanked him and snapped, “Don’t you dare! We’re fucking touching you this time, Lamperouge. Not that fucking Eleven!” Getting his obvious anger under control, he mocked, "How does it feel, bitch, to know your body no longer only belongs to Kururugi? How do you like the lesson we're teaching you?"

Lelouch clenched his teeth, sweat pouring down his face. If only he didn't have that accursed blindfold on, he could use his Geass! He had never hated his power limitations more; he had never needed Geass like he needed it now. These classmates of his were not skilled soldiers following orders in a political chain of command; they were impulsive, racist teenagers acting on their own whims and their own skewed set of values. The fact that they were downplaying his relationship to a merely physical union was infuriating; of course they would never understand that there was emotional reason behind his body's response to his Japanese lover. Indignant rage bubbled to the surface, once again overpowering fear, and he growled, "No! I only want Suzaku! Not because he's Japanese—"

The leader gave his cock a warning squeeze, relishing in his pained hiss. "Rule number one, Lamperouge. You don't use the J-word in our presence. It's Eleven."

"Japanese!" Lelouch insisted, just as incensed at how his own people could be so ignorant as to how they treated him.

"Maybe we should gag him again?"

"Nah, I want to hear Kururugi's princess scream. Get the bat; I'll keep the knife."

At the mention of another weapon, Lelouch couldn't hold back a whimper. He was truly trapped, and his body was spiraling into numb shock; he still couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that this was really happening—to him, of all people! To him, who thrived on control! Where it wasn't numb, his body hurt from being stretched and tied in position; he was humiliated by the nakedness in his lower regions. He trembled as much as his tight bindings would allow. He could really go for a miracle right about now.

What in the world were his classmates planning? Did he really deserve this just for falling for Suzaku, Japanese though he was? No, what he and Suzaku felt for each other could never be considered wrong. Steeling his resolve, he rubbed his face against the seat of the bench, trying to loosen the blindfold. The burlap cloth they'd used to hide his eyes was coarse and itchy; intentionally shifting it around his face made his skin burn. If he could get it off, then he could use his Geass and extract some revenge on these pathetic degenerates.

The blindfold was tied too tightly to come off. Lelouch cursed under his breath ("Shit!"), then cried out as he felt a thick metal stick strike his backside. Sweat slid down his face as he realized the implications; he began to struggle again with renewed determination. His attackers had evidently raided an aluminum baseball bat from the gym supply closet. If they hit him with full force, they could do enough damage to permanently injure him—or even kill him. They could break his spine; he could really die here!

Frantic, Lelouch thrashed wildly on the bench, his body again falling fit to the basic 'fight or flight' state of mind. The adrenaline rush might actually have done him some good, had he not been so thoroughly tied down. He needed to free himself, to make it to safety—make it to Suzaku. If only he could get access to his cell phone, he could call for help. His friends on the Student Council would never stand for this abuse, and if anything, the Black Knights would never ignore a distress call from Zero. He'd figure out how to explain the whole 'Britannian schoolboy' thing later if it meant he could escape with his life intact; right now, his number one priority had to be survival.

The gun he normally toted around was hidden in his school jacket alongside his cell phone, but it was useless to him with his hands tied. How could people be so cruel—why were Britannians so cruel? "This," Lelouch growled, voice ringing around the empty shower stalls and lockers, "is why I hate Britannia! Your entire attitude and mindset—that's what I want to destroy…!" His words were like fire on his tongue, but he was the only one who seemed burned—

–his classmates only laughed, probably thinking his passionate speech some kind of joke and forced bravado.

"If you don't want us to bash your skull in, you'll do exactly as we say," said the leader, his voice suave. “You can make this easier on yourself by renouncing Kururugi.”

Lelouch’s breath caught in his throat. He sweated and swallowed, but his voice was strong as he announced, “I’ll never forsake Suzaku!”

The leader snorted. “Then you’re bringing this on yourself. While you lie there and take it, remember that you could’ve chosen the lesser beatdown.”

Lelouch forced himself to calm down and take a deep breath, his concentration gathering in a last-ditch effort to save himself. Before his attackers could move, he spoke, his voice ringing with a shadow of superiority. "You don't want to do this." Words were his specialty, his weapon of choice. They'd taken and kept the gag out; he had to try to convince them to turn back now before they hit him more with the baseball bat. Some damage had already been done, but he couldn't let it get any further. Not while he still had a mind and a mouth to speak it.

"Think of what would happen to your reputations if word got out about this." No matter that he didn't know who they were at the moment, he—or someone—would find out. "Is this what you want to be—the kind of people who have nothing better to do than bully others for not sharing their values? Those kinds of people are pathetic." Utilizing his silver-tongue, Lelouch switched tactics then. "Beating me won't accomplish anything. You have no objective to achieve here. What purpose do you think this will serve?" Lelouch paused a moment to let his words sink in, then drove the point home with, "Nothing will change by your actions today; no matter how hard you try, it's impossible to change the world."

One of the boys snorted, "We're not trying to change the world—just you." The others laughed their support.

"Pretty little speech, Lamperouge, but it didn't do you any good," said the original speaker, clearly amused. Cheering, he yelled, "C'mon, guys, let's stop wasting time!"

Understanding his last tactic failed, Lelouch bucked on the bench as much as his bonds allowed. His speech hadn't affected them at all; they'd even had the audacity to laugh at him. Though it was much less severe than the physical and mental torture they'd inflicted upon him, Lelouch was just as outraged that they'd laughed at him in his element. He stilled after a few moments of pointless thrashing, drained to the bone; as expected, he'd gotten nowhere. He clenched his eyes shut in fearful understanding of their show of power, despite the fact that he couldn't see past the blindfold anyway.

All three sneered at Lelouch's predicament. Someone raised the bat high and brought it whacking down on Lelouch's hipbone; the crack that sounded at impact was proof of the weapon's momentum. The clap of smacking palms resonated in the air—congratulatory high-fives, no doubt, at how Lelouch flinched and howled and jerked. They took turns using the bat to pummel his abused body, being sure to turn the session into a full-scale flogging. Jeers spilled from their lips, and they swung the weapon from the side, pounding and smashing his legs into the wooden bench itself. The force of their blows was astonishing.

Lelouch accidentally bit his tongue, and the copper taste of blood filled his mouth; a tiny liquid drop of red leaked down his jaw. Tears began trailing down his pale face at the diabolical treatment; blood from his battered legs dripped onto the floor, surely leaving stains of his suffering. Their powerful hits would leave bruises on whatever skin did not bleed and scab—if he lived long enough for bruises to form.

What were they going to do to him in the end? His legs burned, and he could swear he felt the sharp sting of muscles tearing in his thighs. If one thing could be said of his attackers, it was that they knew how to administer hurt; their impactful, palpable blows brought him indescribable pain. Biting his lip, carefully avoiding his tongue that time, he tried determinedly not to give in to their satisfaction. They wanted to hear him scream? Forget it. He only screamed on one man's orders, and unfortunately that person wasn't present at the moment.

Instead he retreated further into himself as a coping mechanism, dreaming up diabolical ideas for revenge. I’ll hold you at gunpoint and—no, I don’t even need to do that, with my Geass. I’ll make you fight each other to the death. I’ll kill the last one standing myself. I’ll make it slow and painful and a thousand times worse than what you’re doing to me.

The boys mock-sighed amongst themselves. The leader launched into another speech with, "What an embarrassment to all Britannians! What we're doing to you, Lamperouge, is nothing compared to what you did. You dating that Eleven is the biggest insult to our nation, the biggest middle finger 'fuck you' to Britannia's superiority.” He laughed cruelly. “Britannians and Elevens just don’t mix, you see? Everyone knows that. You must’ve just forgot. Well, we'll have to reinstate some good ol' Britannian pride into you, won't we?" They all spat on his face, letting him know just what a dirty little traitor they thought of him.

Lelouch didn't answer, knowing full well he'd never be proud to be a Britannian. This latest string of events confirmed it even further. He was almost numb to the racist talk by now; he'd heard it all before. His face scrunched at the sick slide of their spit on his skin. Pulse racing, he endured their antics. A bitter, overwhelming swell of frustration and misery rose up in his chest when he felt his cell phone vibrate in his jacket's inner pocket against his breast. Someone was trying to contact him, and he would have laughed at the irony if it wasn't so damn depressing and hopeless. He bit his lip. Maybe the Black Knights will pay a visit to you in the middle of the night, he raged inwardly at the elitist Britannian attackers.

“You know,” the leader continued, his tone mockingly thoughtful, “for someone so smart and popular, Lamperouge, you make some pretty stupid mistakes.” He slapped Lelouch across the face again, meaning one of the others must be working the bat. “Don’t give me that ‘Kururugi’s an Honorary Britannian’ bullshit. He’s still just a fucking Eleven!”

Lelouch choked on a growl. I’ll make you get on your knees in front of Suzaku, where you belong. You can beg us both for forgiveness. I’ll videotape your humiliation and put it on the Internet. Then I’ll kill you in your sleep. Maybe I’ll videotape that, too, so I can always relive the glory of revenge.

"Ha, you'll need to borrow your sister's wheelchair once we're done with you! Hope she's got a spare. That nurse of yours—that Eleven nurse—is going to have her hands full, what with both of you having broken legs," the beastly sidekick from the bathroom jeered, repeatedly smacking the back of Lelouch’s thighs with the broad, rounded tip of the bat.

Completely victimized, Lelouch wanted to curl into a fetal position but couldn't quite manage that thanks to his bonds. At the mention of his sister, blood roared in his ears. Once more, he tried thrashing about in vain hope that the cords would break; they didn't. He couldn't contain a moan of despair. His attackers had kept their word thus far about not bashing in his skull, and he didn't want that to change; they'd mainly focused on hitting his lower body. Nothing under his waist was safe. His buttocks, thighs, and legs bore the brunt of the others' fury, and he couldn't control the tears that still streamed down his face from the sheer amount of pain.

Every so often, he could hear the crunch of bone and he almost passed out from the overwhelming hurt and degradation. The worst part was knowing that his attackers were trying to inflict the same pain on him that his dear sister suffered. Would they go for his eyes next? Would they cause permanent damage? If he was rendered unable to walk, how could he help take care of Nunnally? For that matter, how could he continue his public appearances as Zero?

As the beating carried on, his strands of thought shriveled into incoherence. Lelouch may have normally been a calm, quiet person and an absolutely excellent strategist, but he was—for all intents and purposes—completely human. All his plans had backfired, his options, nonexistent. He was backed into a corner with no way out, and his life was on the line. He was not invincible; he was human: thus he panicked and cried just as anyone would in his situation. A fiery longing to see Nunnally, to see Suzaku, to see his other friends, and to see his rebellion through to the end engulfed his chest; the weight of his despair crushed him more effectively than any of his attackers could manage. His pupils dilated behind the blindfold, and his body twitched and shuddered under those hands and weapons. He could do nothing but lie there and take it, could do nothing but wait for the burning pain and torture to be over.

Finally, after an indeterminable amount of time (Lelouch had understandably lost count of the seconds this time), the abusive students grew bored of smacking Lelouch as their new toy and relented their attack. One of the boys snarled, "There, you can't even recognize his legs as legs! Who has the knife? We have to mark him, after all. You know, since Lamperouge is so proud of being fucked by an Eleven." One of the others must have handed the smaller weapon over because the next thing Lelouch knew, someone was cutting into the skin of his butt cheeks with the knife.

Lelouch was almost numb down there from the baseball bat attack, but the sharp slice of pain was enough to remind him that he did still have feeling down there. Air stung the open cut.

"Don't worry, bitch. You'll like this part. Since you want everyone to know, we're just making sure anyone who looks at your ass will know that you're the property of that damned Number." With that said and done, the teen flung the knife somewhere on the other side of the room; Lelouch heard it clang against the wall quite a few feet away.

One of the attackers snorted. "So, we're done with the bat now, right? Is it time to fuck the little bastard yet?" It was the same boy who had been insulted when Lelouch didn't get hard under his hand.

Lelouch swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. His mind whirled. NO! Nonononono! Oh god, anything but that—I just want this to be over! As if I'd ever let anyone but Suzaku touch me! Sweat dotted his brow and his stomach muscles clenched painfully, but he knew, when it came down to it, that there were no viable escape routes. He'd already gone over all the possibilities, done everything he could; it didn't keep him from replaying different scenarios in his head. The chess-strategist only needed one missing piece. If only Suzaku was there, if only he could get one hand free, if only someone would walk through the door and help him, if only his Geass worked without direct eye contact—if only his classmates weren't violent racists…

One of the boys, the second one from the bathroom, obviously recoiled and pretended to retch. "Dude, are you really gay? I thought we were just teaching him a lesson, messing with his head and stuff. I'm not putting my dick anywhere near Lamperouge's ass! Besides, it's already been infected by Eleven come. No way am I taking used goods after an Eleven tainted them…"

"All right, fine," conceded the teenager who'd suggested the rape. "We don't have to fuck him, but we should at least make him suck us off. After all, he'll do it for an Eleven."

"…Yeah, that's doable," the leader agreed after a moment's hesitation. "Just so long as the little bitch doesn't bite. And I get to get off first," he explained in a no-nonsense tone. There was the sound of a zipper being undone, and then the lead attacker stepped closer to his captive, his footsteps audible against the tiled floor. "All right, Lamperouge, take my cock in your mouth and suck it. Make me come."

A warm, hardened slab of skin poked at Lelouch's lips. Eyes widening behind the blindfold, Lelouch's jaw tensed in silent answer to the command. His breathing accelerated, and he almost vomited at the nauseating smell of the other boy's penis near his face. Just to be sure his assailants got the message, he pressed his lips harder together and shook his head, his fine hair flying with the motion. Maybe I’ll Geass you to service customers in a whorehouse. The only ones who should kill are those prepared to be killed. The only ones who should take sex are those prepared to give sex.

The leader chuckled sardonically. "Still got some fight in you… We do still have the bat, you know."

Lelouch stiffened at the grim warning, his latest revenge plan dissipating at the reminder. The throbbing pain in his lower regions reminded him of what would happen if he refused, and his face twisted in indecision. If I don't do it, they'll come at me with the bat. But if I do…I'd be betraying Suzaku… A sob caught in his throat. But if this is my only choice, then…Suzaku, I'm sorry…I just can't take the bat anymore. It hurts too much. They'd kill me if I refused…I need to live, for Nunnally... Very reluctantly, he opened his mouth.

At once, the leader forcefully slid his cock between Lelouch's parted lips. “Oooh, yeah, that’s the stuff. What a hot little mouth you have, Lamperouge. Just what I always…” There was a long moment of awkward inactivity. Impatiently, the racist teenager snapped, "Use your tongue, bitch. And do you remember what the fuck I said about sucking me? Get to it!" One of the other boys bumped the end of the bat against Lelouch's lower back, reminding him of the alternative. Starting to move his hips a bit, the leader ordered, “Suck me like you suck the Eleven! You do suck his cock, don’t you? Yeah, you definitely suck his cock. So you can suck mine, and suck it better, you hear?”

Trembling, Lelouch hesitantly swirled his tongue around the foreign member in his mouth. He dared not bite, remembering how that also would implicate future beatings. Suctioning his lips around the hardened mass, he hummed and clumsily bobbed his head; he wasn't exactly at a comfortable angle to move like that, but had little choice in the matter. He couldn't fit the boy's entire length in his mouth, and he was too choked up to deep-throat; he almost wanted to because it would serve the attacker right if this triggered his gag reflex and made him throw up all over the assaulter’s junk. His hands were still tied, so he couldn't touch the base of the erection. His thoughts were screaming.

In the back of his mind, Lelouch was grateful to his past experience with Suzaku—he'd gained skill. At the same time, he was devastated that he was being forced to use said skill on someone other than his self-appointed lover. He felt a burning shame about betraying Suzaku, even though he had no choice.

The leader moaned and grabbed at Lelouch’s hair, pushing down on his skull. “Oh, fuck, Lamperouge!” the lead attacker groaned, sounding like he was enjoying himself. “Yeah, just like that, you little bitch! You’re a natural-born cocksucker, aren’t you, you little faggot? Betcha love having my dick in your mouth. I’m better than that Eleven, aren’t I? Of course I am.” He moaned again. “You better thank your lucky stars you’re in for a treat today. You ready for your first taste of Britannian come? Open wide!”

Lelouch flinched and began to cry harder at this new level of humiliation. He gagged on the bitter come spurting down his throat, and some of the leader's essence dribbled down his chin.

Before he could catch his breath, one of the other boys was in his face, and he repeated his motions. “Yeah, that’s it,” murmured the leader raggedly as he apparently watched. “Fuck his face! Do it, man! Make him take it!” The second teenager groaned and pulled out before he came. Lelouch felt momentary relief before he understood why he was granted the gift of not swallowing: His face was hit with a thick, sticky mess. He panted, grimacing at the somewhat warm substance gracing his skin.

“Ah, yeah, paint his face,” the leader moaned approvingly. “Good idea, man. God, Lamperouge. What a good look on you.” There was the sound of a picture being snapped by phone.

Tuning out the hateful words and using a similar technique to the previous two, Lelouch brought the third and final attacker to completion, once again choking on come.

“Look at that filthy little cockslut,” the leader groaned. “So eager for our dicks.”

Lelouch winced. He’d been eager to finish and get through the demeaning experience as quickly as possible. He breathed a sigh of relief that it was over—then choked when another erection was forcibly shoved past his lips. What the hell?!

“Man, again?” asked the second attacker, his tone a bit disbelieving.

“Dude, just let him have this,” argued the third attacker.

The first attacker chuckled darkly. “Yeah, Lamperouge, do me again.” He grabbed the back of Lelouch's skull and manually moved his head up and down before pulling out completely and demanding, “Tell me you love my cock. Tell me you love sucking it.”

Lelouch opened and closed his mouth several times, shocked into silence.

“Tell me you love sucking my cock, you little bitch, or I really am gonna fuck your ass raw. Maybe you want that instead, huh? Is that it, Lamperouge? You want my dick pounding your ass?” The leader laughed again, sounding more deranged than ever. “I know I could fuck you better than that Eleven. Hey, maybe I can fuck some Britannian pride into you after all. It’s your choice, you little cockslut. Tell me you love my dick or lie there and get fucked.”

The second attacker took a step forward. “Shit, man—”

“Dude, seriously,” interrupted the third attacker, apparently halting him by the sudden lack of footsteps. “Let the guy live his dream.”

Lelouch’s mind was whirling faster than ever, and he only jerked to attention when the leader started moving down his body.

“That’s a good choice, too, Lamperouge,” the leader mentioned mock-encouragingly. “I bet you’re tight. I can’t wait to shove my dick up your fine ass. Won’t that be fun? You’ll scream for me, won’t you? Yeah, you totally will.”

Gulping down spit and come, Lelouch croaked, “Wait!” on instinct.

The leader paused and moved back to his head. “Yes?” he asked expectantly.

Lelouch swallowed thickly, feeling completely nauseated. “I…love your cock…” He was sweating and trembling, terrified and ashamed. He’d grown used to lying for survival, but these ones burned his tongue.

“Oh, what music to my ears. And tell me, Lamperouge, what do you love doing to my cock?”

Again, Lelouch swallowed and tried to mentally steady himself before gasping, “Suck…sucking it…”

“Mmm, I bet you do,” agreed the leader lecherously. “I could tell from the way you devoured it just a little bit ago. Hungry for it, were you? Don’t worry. You get to suck me all over again.” He took a breath and added, “Just as soon as you tell me I’m better than that Eleven piece of shit.”

Lelouch’s heart beat faster. “What?” he breathed.

“Say, ‘I’d rather suck your cock than the Eleven’s,’” instructed the lead attacker. “Or lie there and get banged.”

On autopilot, Lelouch took some fortifying breaths and mumbled, “I’d rather…suck your cock…than Suzaku’s…” His mind raced with mental apologies to his lover. I don’t mean it. I don’t mean any of this. I just need to live.

“Not good enough,” snapped the leader. “The fucking Number doesn’t deserve a name. Say exactly what I told you, or else.”

Shaking, Lelouch muttered, “I’d rather…suck your cock…than the Eleven’s…” He grimaced. You seem to have this hang-up about me with Suzaku. I’ll Geass you to watch us in bed together, over and over, before I kill you.

“Much better,” praised the leader. “And as a reward, I’m gonna give you what you want.” He poked his hard dick past Lelouch's lips again and let out a drawn-out sigh of bliss. “Ahhh, yeah, that’s where it’s at. Fucking suck me off again, you little bitch. Make it good, like last time.”

Numb all over, Lelouch robotically brought the first attacker to the peak for the second time. Still filled with internal shame, powerful fury consumed him simultaneously, allowing him to get through this stage of torture. Just you wait. As soon as this is over and I pin you down, I’m going to make you cut off your own dick. A morbid pleasure filled Lelouch at the very thought. Then you can suck your own cock as you impale yourself on that knife. Won’t that be fun, when they find you with your own dismembered dick in your mouth and a knife sticking out your heart? Then we’ll see who’s laughing! His Geass flickered in anticipation, even though it was still rendered useless. Lost in ideas of revenge, Lelouch gagged in surprise when a new wave of come spurt down his throat.

"Hot damn, the bitch is good at that," sighed the leader. "I guess the fucking Eleven is good for something after all—if he taught Lamperouge how to suck cock. Anyway, dudes, I'm spent; want to go grab a bite to eat?" Seconds of silence ensued. Heaving an exasperated sigh, he continued, "Look, even if he can get free, he won't be able to walk. He hasn't seen our faces, so let's just get out of here before someone comes looking for him." There were murmurs of agreement before the leader menacingly said, "Wait, just one more thing."

"Huh, what are you doing? I thought you said we were done with the bat."

Lelouch started to shake at the mention of it.

"We are. I just want to make sure he doesn't start screaming for help as soon as we leave. Not that anyone should hear him anyway, but just in case…"

The carefree laughter of three Ashford Academy students rang through the locker room as a fist, not the aluminum bat, made hard contact with Lelouch's temple. The sheer terror of the bat preceded the blow, and then he was lost in a world of darkness.