Captivity Meme, anyone?

[gibken]

THE CAPTIVITY MEME

You've been captured -- or maybe you've been held captive for a while now. Whatever the case, you've lost your freedom, and there's a specific person responsible for that. You might be a prisoner, a mental patient, a kidnap victim, or someone's pet. Maybe you're there willingly, or maybe the choice has been taken away from you completely.

Both smut and non-smut scenarios are possible. If you don't want to play smut, please indicate so in the title line of your tag.

1. Leave a tag with your character. Be sure to include any limits on what you are willing to play, as this meme has the potential to be triggering.
2. Someone else tags in and uses RNG to generate a number between 1 and 9 (or pick your favorite). The second character is holding the first character captive now.
3. ???
4. Profit!



1. For their own good. Does this person really think they could make it on their own? It's a big, scary world out there, and you need to protect them from it, whether they like it or not.

2. For the good of society. Forget protecting this person -- it's your duty to protect the world from them! Maybe they committed a terrible crime, or maybe they were falsely condemned, but it's your job to keep them locked up where they can't do any more harm.

3. Because they're not well. How's your bedside manner? Whether you're Florence Nightingale or Mildred Ratched, you're in the position of ministering to the mentally ill. Maybe this person genuinely needs your help, or maybe you're just turning a blind eye to their true sanity.

4. For the money. Higher aims? What higher aims? This person is your meal ticket, and they're staying put until their loved ones pay up.

5. For their love. It might be a case of yandere, or it might be a consenting BDSM relationship. Whether it's by mutual agreement or by force, you're keeping them simply because you love them.

6. Because they're cute and fluffy. Who's a cutesy wutesy? They are! Yes, they are! This person is your pet now. Maybe they're a different species from you, or maybe you just don't care that you're both people. Maybe you're even an alien zookeeper looking after a new acquisition.

7. Because they're your property. Slave? Livestock? Who cares what they think - they're your property, and you decide their fate.

8. For the lulz. Hey, what's a little bondage between friends? You'll let them go, once you're done laughing and snapping photos... maybe.

9. Choose a scenario, or combine several.

Comments

[gibken]

Joe's reflex is to turn his head away when Basco approaches, but it doesn't last for even a fraction of a second before Basco's grabbing his face, squeezing, splashing a fresh wave of coppery blood over Joe's tongue, down his throat. He'd gag, if he hadn't tasted it hundreds of times before.

He locks his gaze with Basco's, he refuses to show fear. Not to him. Not ever. Fear is something pathetic to be borne out in private. He's not about to bow to this.

A small groan does escape him at the second tug, the burning in Basco's eyes scalding Joe, would almost bring tears to his eyes.

Almost.

It's a trick. Basco's taunting him, trying to scare him, trying to hurt him, trying to break him and make him weak. But he's not Zangyack. Not even close. Joe's already tasted the worst there is. He's not afraid of Basco, because even if he gets to the very end of his tricks, all that waits for Joe is death. He's ready.

Marvelous isn't dead. Marvelous isn't in Basco's clutches. And if he can, Marvelous will come for him, even if it's just to retrieve his body and treat it with the respect he thinks it deserves.

Joe smirks. He almost laughs. Basco can make of it what he will.

[curryjolokia]

Basco's eyes fly wide, his whole body vibrating with rage. This Blue, this CHILD, is daring to snicker at him? Is he insane?

Basco throws himself forward, using Joe's jaw as a handle, and they hit the floor in a bruising tangle of limbs and jangling chain. Joe's head would ricochet if Basco's weight weren't behind the hand holding it down. His grip has shifted; the web of his hand between thumb and forefinger is gagging Joe's mouth open, but the impact has cut Basco's skin with Joe's teeth, and Basco's green blood is running slowly down his thumb onto the corner of Joe's mouth.

He wants Joe to lick it off.

As for the rest of them, Joe's knees and legs are folded back painfully, and Basco's on his hands and knees, straddling and tangled with Joe's body. One of Joe's chains is looped across Basco's wrist.

Leaning close, Basco grinds his hand harder against Joe's teeth; blood flows more strongly from both of them, and the two colors don't mix; they just thread against and across each other like viscous ribbons, utterly incompatible.

"Think I'm lying? I could show you him...what's left of him. I care for Marvey-chan very much, you know. I took the best care of him."

He leans in closer, his teeth too sharp, his roiling anger bringing flashes of the kaijin through the illusion of his humanoid form. His voice is low and velvety. "Would you like me to take care of you the same way? Ruin you the way I ruined him?"

[gibken]

Joe's smirk grows wider, in the fraction of a second that he has, amused that he's obviously managed to press Basco in all the ways that make him lose his carefully constructed composure. Maybe it's reckless. Stupid. And it will most definitely result in pain. But Joe learned long ago, that as long as you're still feeling pain, you're still alive. And, in his lessons, it was always ingrained, as long as you're still alive, you can and will still fight.

Bitter blood spills into his mouth as Basco jams his hand between his teeth, and this time he does gag. His own blood is such a familiar taste, but this is something new, foreign. Not something he's accustomed to, not something he's prepared for.

Basco pushes harder, Joe's eyelids flutter for a moment, but he knows his death won't be so merciful as to occur in the dark twilight of unconsciousness. He drags himself back to the present, to listen to Basco's deranged taunting. Either Basco's still teasing him, trying to break him down, or Basco's dead serious and all the less sane for it. Care and destruction are mutually exclusive.

Basco's eyes are flashing red, Joe expects all the more pain to be coming for him shortly.

Attack more fiercely. He can almost hear the command as he uses his only weapon, steeling himself against the strange sour flavor of Basco's blood before he grinds his teeth in all the more, latching onto Basco's hand like a rabid canine. Desperate.

[curryjolokia]

Basco hisses in between his teeth, and the next breath he draws in is reptilian and sinister.

"I'll take that as a yes," the monster purrs. His bloodied hand traps Joe's neck, long fingers braced spiderlike against the floor to either side. His green blood coats Joe's adam's apple, bobbing as the boy swallows audibly, probably a reflexive gulp of air now that his mouth is free. Basco doesn't intend to keep it that way for long.

His left hand is free, and he untangles it from Joe's chain. His kaijin claws have ripped through the illusion of his humanness, and his hand seems to flicker like a broken hologram, pale, black, pale, black. Always with golden claws like knives at his nails.

Basco grabs a handful of Joe's clothing at the throat and rakes his fingers through it; his claws slice the fabric to ribbons as easily as cloudfluff through the Free Joker's engines. Some blood pricks up in lines across Joe's chest where Basco was less careful.

"Will you fight me, little lost soldier? Or will you - what's the human phrase? - close your eyes and think of your country?"

"I won't let you," Basco purrs, leaning in close. He bites down on Joe's lip - actually bites, his fangs tearing flesh. He disengages gently, oh so carefully, before speaking again, so as not to shred Joe's mouth and cheek. He smiles, and his eyes are glowing red-gold and he is completely, utterly gone to the animal insanity inside.

"It's not half as much fun if I have to kill you before you'll let me have you."

[gibken]

Joe gasps when Basco's hand is pulled from between his teeth, but it doesn't last, as that same hand immediately pins at his throat and his next choking gasp is cut off. His eyes flick away from Basco's own, flashing dangerously, glowing bright enough to make Joe's head spin a little when his pupils contract. He focuses briefly on the hand raised above him, the monstrous form beneath the human cloak tearing free a few millimeters at a time, but fast. From the claws at the tips of his fingers, the black gauntlets race up his arm like a mocking shadow of flames.

Joe's not entirely sane himself anymore. Deranged would be a good word for it, as he finds himself watching the claws descend on him, dangerous and yet he doesn't struggle, he doesn't fight. He just watches with a sick fascination, wondering which part of Basco is truly real. Or maybe he was born this way.

Not like Joe.

Basco thinks he can ruin Joe. Joe was ruined before they'd ever set eyes on each other. Before Marvelous. Before everything.

Another growl escapes him when a flash of pain shakes him from his reverie. Not the cuts on his chest, those are laughable. It's the bite to his lip that hurts. Basco breathing right into his face doesn't help.

"If you've had him, why do you keep me?" His words are slurred around the blood still caking his lips and teeth, but no less curious for it. "What do you stand to gain by toying with me? Lost little soldier. What good am I to you?"

[curryjolokia]

"Stupid question, Soldier," Basco murmurs back, matching Joe's volume reflexively. His claws track down Joe's gut and thighs, shredding everything he wears; welts and thin cut lines rise in places, where Joe tenses or Basco digs deeper. Basco ignores them; he has a goal. Joe's cock is uncovered as the shreds of denim and leather and thinner fabrics fall away; Basco hisses in a breath of suspense and desire as he sees it, small and delicate as is the humanoid alien beneath him, especially as compared to the leathery, scaled form that is his true body, reinforced and shielded with bone and exostructures even when he is completely naked.

Joe's body is so very FRAGILE beneath him and it is delicious. Basco wants to devour it all, shatter him. He wants to leave Joe in pieces, carefully laid out in the proper order as though they're all still connected together.

Basco's humanoid illusion is nearly completely gone now; his face remains mostly, his soft-lipped sneer alternating in flickers with serrated yellow sharkteeth inside a cartiliginous bloodred maw. But the rest of him is the monster.

Basco's straddling Joe's body; with an impatient hand he yanks the boy's thighs into a less-annoying configuration, one that displays Joe's cock better.

His own arousal is throbbing and rigid against the front of his pelvis. It's unsettlingly large, bipartate and divided lengthwise down its middle. Dark bloody red and calloused on its outside, with a paler, soft interior that has swollen open to receive the sex of his partner, Basco's pouch-sheath is lined with barbs that are twitching with each pulse of his hearts.

The barbs are twitching, nearly fully aroused, just waiting for Basco to shove the juicy sex of his victim's - partner's - body inside his pouch. As soon as he's wrapped around Joe's cock, Basco's barbs will reach hard, sharp arousal, and Joe's blood will feed Basco's biology while his pain feeds Basco's lusts.

[gibken]

It's strange, really, the odd things that come clawing their way to the surface of Joe's mind when he has any number of more important things to be concerned about, like his imminent demise.

It was a topic raised in a few of his classes, then again in a few training courses when he was briefly considered for piloting before he got tapped for Special Forces. Never needing to really know about it, the information burrowed itself beneath the rest of his memory, unnecessary to call on until right now.

Event horizon. The point of no return. The invisible line dictating when the gravitational pull of a black hole became too great to escape, even with the power of light speed engines.

Why is he thinking about this now?

Because Basco is the black hole. And the event horizon was somewhere around when the last of Joe's clothes fell away, leaving him beyond vulnerable, incapable of defending himself. Unable to get away, stuck in a skewed space-time where nothing quite seemed like it was ever going to reach or effect him.

Pain still hurt, of course, and his breath came in ragged pants each time one of Basco's claws snagged his skin, drawing blood. But it seemed irrelevant. No matter how much pain Basco insisted upon giving him, eventually there would be too much. Too much pain, too much blood loss. Eventually Joe would die. Inevitable, not that it wasn't always, but tangible now.

He stares up at Basco somewhat blankly, his eyes glazed over. Lost and non-committal. His eyes catch on one of the chains and he wonders, very briefly, if he might be able to get it looped around his own throat, maybe speed up the process a bit. But the thought alone seems like too much effort, never mind the action it would require.

Then his eyes are drawn down, down to... Oh. Is that what Basco intends?

Joe doesn't ever remember having sex with any particularly non-human aliens. Not to say it never happened, of course, just that he was never really conscious enough to remember it afterwards. Probably for the better. But with his new found peace he finds himself more intrigued than anything else.

He shifts when Basco's hands pull at his legs, letting his head fall back, his fingers finding the links in the chain against to grip. Reflexively, completely without his conscious involvement, he braces himself for whatever it is Basco's about to do.

[curryjolokia]

The final shreds of Basco's humanoid guise finally evaporate, black flames licking away the humanlike face. His mouth hangs slack, and his tongue, such as it is, lolls loosely against the close-set cage of his teeth. Long and thin as they are, more like the teeth of a comb or rake than fangs for tearing or biting, Basco can let his jaw hang slack and yet barely open a gap between their points.

The monster rubs the smooth shafts of these spiny, deadly things against Joe's throat and collarbones. Only the tips are sharp; the outside surfaces are like smoothed ivory, and so close set together, so as to be almost one solid, ribbed surface of enamel, they're possibly the softest part of his body.

The irony most definitely does not escape him.

Joe may not know that Basco's jaw unhinges, giving plenty of room for such apparently impractically long teeth to become quite effective indeed. Joe probably doesn't know that Basco could cut a hole through his ribcage as easily as Joe could core an apple. But Basco knows that Joe *does* understand pain - even if he doesn't care about the physical sort anymore.

"Mmm." He breathes out; hot breath filtering between cool teeth, tracing it all gently across the mostly unbroken skin of Joe's upper chest. Basco removes his hand from Joe's throat, raising his crouched posture enough to give his prisoner some literal and figurative breathing room. He drags an appreciative look up and down Joe's body, taking everything in.

Basco takes Joe's hand in his own, the one clutching his chain. He strokes his teeth across Joe's knuckles, again with the soft cool-hot caress. Then he takes the chain in his own hand and tugs, guiding Joe's hand towards his own cock.

"Do you want me?" he asks. The question and the tone in which he asks it is a mockery of the good and right contexts in which the invitation is appropriate.

[gibken]

Odd, isn't it, the way Basco's rubbing against him. Almost like a cat would do when seeking affection. He even follows through in lifting his hand away from Joe's throat, and the first clear, unobstructed breath lights a small spark somewhere behind Joe's eyes. Waking him up a little, such as it is. He blinks, two, three times and things come back into focus. The rest of the room, for one. Joe remembers that he and Basco aren't just... drifting through space, particularly not separated by the crucial insurmountable distance between any two objects beyond event horizon.

It was all a silly metaphor anyway, Joe realizes as he starts to breathe normally again. There's still a ragged quality to each inhalation, he wonders if there's been some kind of permanent damage done. How much permanent damage does Basco intend to do, anyway? Doesn't he intend to kill him? He killed Marvelous, didn't he?

He claimed to.

No, he claimed to have... taken care of Marvelous. Ruin him. Not conclusive, and also possibly all a lie.

There's a hand at his hand, gently loosening his death grip on the chain, nuzzling there too. Again, Joe is reminded of a cat.

Maybe Basco just needs affection. Does he get it, ever? Has he ever? Probably from Marvelous, once upon a time, judging the way the pair of them acted around each other. But now, how lonely must Basco be, forever forsaking anyone if it stood to gain him something superior?

Joe understands the need for affection, certainly.

A shaky gasp escapes his lips when Basco's hand directs his own, down, and the question is posed while Joe's fingers splay over his own cock, almost curiously.

Do you want me.

Faced with what he is still sure is imminent death, Joe is able to view the question from a purely subjective standpoint. Does he want him? Not necessarily as he is, this unfamiliar breed of kaijin that may or may not even be compatible with what Joe knows about sexual relations (which is certainly not a lot, all things considered). But somewhere, beneath that armor, or perhaps sometimes on top of it (he's not sure which) is still the Basco face that Marvelous knew. That he mostly used to negotiate. Why was that? Was one part of him more easily controlled than the other?

Too many questions, not enough answers. But the truth remains that Basco is still Basco, whichever guise he's currently wearing. For all Joe knows, Basco might be a shape shifter properly, these might just be two faces of an entire arsenal of possibilities. Doesn't negate the fact that the face that Basco uses most often is...

Attractive.

Full lips, shining eyes. Freckles, of all things. Not constructed. Somehow, naturally, that face still belongs to Basco.

And Joe has to admit, to himself in a breathy whisper, maybe not even audible to Basco's ears, that yeah, he wouldn't really be adverse to... Basco, in that way.

[curryjolokia]

The exhalation has the warmth of deeply held breath and moistened lips behind it, and Basco's mouth opens a bit more, not quite a smile - but close enough. He leans in close again, this time looking Joe straight in the eyes, no sly angles or sneers to tilt things.

"Then make yourself ready, little soldier blue. And press yourself into me." Basco chuckles, that dry, rattling, unnerving sound again, and brings his head back far enough that he will be able to watch his little pet dance for him.

His voice is quite a bit more human - quite a bit more familiar - when he speaks again, as though he too has edged back from an event horizon of some sort. He's no less unsettling, and the sense of bloodlust rolling off of the monster that he is has lessened not at all. But he's verbal again - and now that he sounds a bit more like his normal smarmy self, the contrast between that gentle illusion and his current appearance is even more starkly drawn.

"Quick now, or I'll get impatient. Might bleed you out that way."

[gibken]

Joe blinks, looking up into Basco's glowing eyes. This is not something that's entirely unfamiliar to Joe, he must admit. A little odd, considering all the extraneous circumstances, his history with Basco, his captain's history with Basco, and particularly Basco's odd physical biology that is completely unfamiliar to him.

Basco's voice changes somewhat, and between that and the soft threat, Joe finds it a lot easier to coax himself into a state of arousal. Basco's voice is attractive like his humanoid face, lilting with a tempting purr. Joe's many and varied walls that he'd constructed over the years are all but broken down, and he can admit both that he's allowed to want something purely for himself, and, more to the point, he's allowed to do more than just want. He's allowed to do something about it.

He didn't know he wanted Basco until this moment. Reckless though it may be, Joe finds he doesn't care, as his fingers curl around his dick and he strokes himself. For anyone else, in any other situation, Joe would be concerned about the amount of blood on his hand, now coating his cock, and bound to get in the way of any imminent intimacy.

But for some reason he's quite sure blood is not a problem for Basco.

Into. Hm. Joe's never been the inserting partner before. First time for everything, he supposes, though he wouldn't have guessed it would be like this.

He shifts slightly, lifts his hips and lets his hand guide, and then-

Pain. His head rolls back and his mouth falls open with a silent gasping scream. But now that he's started, he can't...

He won't stop. Until it's through.

[curryjolokia]

Basco growls as Joe's cock pushes into his pouch; his whole body has been hungry for the boy's taste almost since they began, though he didn't fully decide to give in to the urge until much later. Kaijin lust is a dangerous, tricky thing when coupling with non-kaijin forms of alien biology. Ends up killing off a frightfully high percentage of trans-species partners, unfortunately.

This one, however, Basco is finding himself very motivated to keep around, even if it means he has to restrain himself in the midst of his bloodlust.

Joe's body is the polar opposite of Basco's true body: soft where Basco's is scaled; pale and thin where Basco's is dark and bulky with leathery armor. Basco finds it beautiful. Even if he had no emotional attachment to his victim, Basco's biology is such that the touch of another's blood within his pouch creates evolutionarily hard-wired effects not even Basco and all his strength can resist. But with that attachment as well - with the obsession, amusement, and sadistic interest that he holds in Marvey-chan's first mate - Well.

Joe's whole body is shaking in pain. If he were paralyzed by the pain, Basco could still consume him by force; but Joe, in his infinite stubbornness, is pushing forward, pressing ever closer. Their bellies are pressed together now, and Basco's crouch sinks into more of a broadly braced sprawl, his own body reacting to the taste and chemical effect of Joe's blood as the barbs of his pouch drink it up. He comes to rest in a four-point braced stance over Joe's body, crouched low as though over a fresh kill of meat. Many of the instincts charging through him are the same.

Basco's pouch, slit along its length, finally closes around the far side of Joe's cock. The boy has pushed his whole massive sex inside of Basco, so far that the two sides of Basco's pouch touch and seal against each other in the space between Joe's belly and his cock. Basco's body is built to accomodate largeish anatomies - to say lovers would be to make a farce of things - but those partners are typically slotting in a part of their anatomy designed to take the abuse that Basco's sex delivers. Joe's is both prodigious and vulnerable, and beneath the bloodlust and sexlust, Basco feels a spark of pride for his pet's determination despite what he knows must be searing pain.

Now that his pouch has swallowed the boy's sex, his body throbs with the next step of his species' mating practice. Within, his barbs have hardened and hold Joe's cock captive. If he holds still, he should feel only minimal pain. He can attempt escape only at the cost of shredding his own flesh.

But Basco's species, monstrous as it is, depends on the blood of other species for its sexual health. Logically, then, it must have evolved some sort of incentive that might make other species blindly brave the risks and the pain of mating with them. And it has.

Few species known to the diverse alien worlds are immune to the chemical known to human science as epinephrine, or its broader family of related adrenalins. Each barb of Basco's pouch has a task; some to pain his victims, some for his own benefit and pleasure, and some to deliver a temptation strong enough to be hardwritten into the genetic codes of compatible species in the worlds to which the kaijin have spread.

Through the open wounds in the delicate tissues of his sex, Joe's body is jolted with a mix of chemical stimulants directly absorbed from the thick whitish secretion - were the monster human, one might call it cum - now filling Basco's pouch.

Basco knows what to expect next; if Joe's not strung too thin to survive the jolt now striking his bloodstream, the next few minutes are going to become exquisitely intense. For both of them.

"You're free to move once it hits you," he tells Joe, his tone confusingly chatty. "And if you'd like to bite back, I welcome you to try." He's already feeling the chemical effects of Joe's blood in his own body, and his tongue lolls against his teeth, panting in animal anticipation of his own effect on Joe.

Basco leans forward, his lower jaw sliding out of joint. His breath is hot and dank, and the points of his impossibly long teeth sharp as needles; his mouth is hinged far enough open to allow Joe's shoulder and collarbone to fit, and Basco bites down lightly, barely sinking the tips in.

For now.

[gibken]

Joe's first instinct is a purely human type instinct. To lift his hips, roll and thrust. But the shock of pain that heralded the beginning of... whatever this is, Joe's not even sure if 'sex' or 'mating' or what would be the correct term, it only intensifies when his hips move, and he forcibly stills them immediately, still gasping towards the ceiling as he waits for whatever it is that he knows must be coming next. This can't be all of it, he's sure enough of that. He's never been the partner doing the inserting, but he's learning fast that this is not like a pair of humans having sex. There's more at play here, and for some reason, past the waning pain, Joe finds himself incredibly intrigued. Curious, and... Excited, to find out what happens next, as Basco settles over him.

The pain has finished the job that the breaths of fresh air had started, and he's fully aware now, fully conscious and hyper-focused on Basco's words as he grits his teeth, wondering what Basco means by when it hits you. Never mind bite back.

Of course, then it happens. A rush, not entirely unlike fear, but Joe's pretty sure at this point that if there was such a thing as nerve endings that carried fear, his would be completely burnt out by now. He's not afraid, he's just wired.

The chains still holding him have enough length that he can lift his arm, the one Basco isn't apparently intent on devouring, to clutch at Basco's shoulder, digging his fingertips in as well he can. He wants to be closer to him, he can't explain it but he doesn't think he has to as long as he can have it.

"Basco..." The name escapes his lips in a breathy gasping growl, and he licks his own lips in a suggestive way that he's not sure he's ever done before. The lingering taste of Basco's blood there doesn't taste quite as bitter or sickening now, somehow.

[curryjolokia]

Basco has been overindulging himself with the taste of Joe's blood - filling his pouch, filling his mouth from the perforations he's covered Joe's shoulder with. He's not sure if he's ever mounted an alien of Joe's species before, but the curiosity that has always meant he had one eye on Marvelous's first mate (and the other on Marvelous) is suddenly making a bit more sense to him. Joe's fucking delicious, and if he wasn't so attached to the boy, well--

But. Keeping this one around, Basco reminds himself. Mind the blood loss.

Joe is starting to buck under him, torn between his own biology's urge to rock and thrust, and the very potent motivation that Basco's biology has offered toward staying put. Basco knows what Joe needs, and he carefully detatches his maw from Joe's shoulder, because though it surprises him a little, he's willing to give it. Or, take it, depending on your perspective.

Basco wills up his humanoid guise, dragging it into place over his head and shoulders. His body fights him, resenting the glamour's presence in the middle of mounting a victim that has so addicted the bloodlusty hungry grabby hindbrain of his true nature.

But he needs a mouth rather than a maw right now, so he forces the issue, and slowly the mask flickers back into place. Black-red flames float lightly across his skin, wicking off of all the curves and points, as he has to expend a continual energy, like a drip-level electrical current, to keep the glamour from evaporating again, and the visible cold flame is a byproduct of the same.

"Joe," Basco growls, demanding his attention with the threat rumbling in the bottom of his voice. It's the monster's voice, and Basco's fake, sweet face, beautiful by human standards.

"Mine." Bracing his left hand on the floor beneath Joe, Basco wraps his other arm around Joe's body, from the bitten side, all the way across his shoulderblades. Joe's right arm still clutches Basco's shoulder tightly, palm probably bleeding from abrasion against the scaled callouses there. Basco's pouch tightens around Joe's sex in excitement, ripping a dangerous-sounding growl of possessive dominance from his throat; Basco buries his face in the crook of Joe's neck, biting like an animal claiming his bitch, with teeth that are now human-shaped and quite harmless by comparison to his real ones.

Basco's torso is as structured and reinforced as the rest of him. As Joe presses tightly against him, following either the chemical commands from Basco's come or his own instinctive desires, the third and final stage of Basco's sex becomes apparent. Dull yellowy ridges along either side of Basco's torso, where a human's ribcage would be, have been growing more defined and raised as his monstrous lust has risen over the course of his bodily contact with Joe. Now, three of them rise free of each side of his body, unfolding at their midpoints. Not ribs or colorations, these armored bars which protect Basco's torso while he fights are also part of his race's sexual ritual.

Like spider legs, but harder and sharper, they're little more than bones linked by flexible cartilage, with a single, unbelievably strong tendon running along their dorsal sides. The bones snap forward, closing around Joe's body like the fingers of a massive hand; the tendons' roots retract, pulled deeper into Basco's body by internal muscle, and the bones are locked terrifyingly strong around Joe's frame, pinning his left arm to his side. The chains on his wrists are tangled in and amongst this cage, but it doesn't seem to bother Basco, whose familiar - if unsettlingly out of place - crooked smile spreads wide as he pulls his head back from nibbling Joe's neck to meet the other's eyes.

"Gotcha."

[gibken]

Oh. Distracted as he is by the rush within, like fire through every inch of him, burning away any last lingering remnants of resentment, or fear, or apprehension of any type, it takes the commanding bark of his name to drag his eyes open and realize that the Basco he'd dearly desired is now looking down at him. And Joe thinks maybe he could get used to that. He's not Sid, no, not by a long shot. He's dangerous, he causes pain instead of just fighting to soothe it away, and now, after everything else, what Joe needs is a distraction. One pain exchanged for another. The pain Basco is offering, at least for the moment, lets Joe forget everything else but this fire, this desire for more, for everything, for whatever Basco deigns grace him with.

Unhealthy? Probably. But then, Joe's never been particularly stable. And with Basco over him, holding him in this way, he can't fly apart at the seams and joints. He's held together, better than maybe he ever has been before.

He tightens his grip on Basco's shoulder as it neatly ripples beneath his hand, and Basco's teeth close on his skin over and again, feeling for all the world like average human teeth. Well, that's certainly something special, and despite the warring feelings, Joe uses his grip on Basco's shoulder to thrust against him. He needs to be closer.

Maybe, perhaps Basco can read his mind. That's the thought that flits behind his eyes when Basco's... cage, is what it feels like, snaps shut around him like a flytrap, holding him closer, almost too close, exactly as he'd just wished. He gasps and his exhale comes out like a little whine when he catches a glimpse of the smile on Basco's face. He's right there, looking into Joe's eyes and he's taunting him again, but this time not with pain. Now it's just a teasing lilt. Reminding Joe that he's not perfect, that he's not in charge. All of the things he wanted.

He strains up until their noses brush against each other, and then he tilts his head just so, questing for Basco's mouth. If he has human teeth with which to safely bite, it stands to reason that the rest of his mouth is currently equally human, and safe to kiss. One more place for Joe to neatly slip into Basco, where it's safe.

[curryjolokia]

A kiss.

On reflex, Basco jerks his head back, preparing to bite Joe's lip and dissuade him of the intent for delicate touches such as that. But pulling back reminds Basco of the pierced, ripped corner of Joe's mouth and jaw where he'd done his gnawing when they got started. It's still smeared with Basco's blood, and Joe's own.

He doesn't know what to call the impulse that finally makes the decision for him. He doesn't bother thinking about it. He just leans forward, tipping his mouth to meet Joe's. It's soft, confusingly and perhaps upsettingly soft, but Basco sinks into it anyway, licking and gently sucking on Joe's lower lip. His human mask knows how to kiss like this; it requires motion in ways that his kaijin form cannot comprehend, nor mimic.

The breaths Joe is drawing sound desperate, pained, and lustful, all at once. It's music. Basco's pouch is so swollen with blood and Basco's own come, reabsorbed into the membranous flesh as his body reaches satiation, that his barbs now protrude as no more than nubs amidst the pressing swell of soft tissues. His pouch clenches tight, squeezing Joe's cock ruthlessly; the soft inner membranes driven inward by the strong muscle walls of Basco's sex.

[gibken]

Joe whines softly when Basco first pulls back. He wants this, and Basco's moving away. It's not as if Joe feels any more or less used, but in sharing himself with Basco, kissing him in a way that he's kissed very few people before, he'd hoped to exert at least some small spark of control, to impress upon Basco the importance of the action, and most importantly make sure that Basco knows how much he consciously wants this.

Then he comes back, and his lips seal against Joe's, infinitely softer, fuller, and of course he probably has minute control over how his lips feel, how they are shaped and all. Control that Joe doesn't have over his own lips, indeed they're not exactly a part of his anatomy he usually takes the time to care about, and so more often then not they're chapped and dry to the point of bleeding. But he doesn't think this is a problem for Basco, who seems to have a fascination with Joe's blood.

Joe's breath, gasping through his nose so he doesn't have to pull his mouth away from Basco's, shudders dramatically at the sudden squeezing pressure around his cock, all encompassing as Basco's own... organ is, it's absolutely mind numbing, the intricate play between pain and pleasure, the drastic tidal waves Joe can't help but ride as he writhes against Basco's body, begging for more.

[curryjolokia]

The futile way Joe's struggling against his body is driving Basco mad with pleasure. It's almost like Joe's intentionally lunging back and forth within the cage of Basco's hold-bones to mimic the unwilling victims for which his species evolved such shackles.

Joe can't possibly know how Basco's hindbrain is hardwired; can't possibly realize that the way he's whining then mewling into the breath that Basco swallows hungrily is turning all sorts of hormonal dials and knobs within Basco's psyche.

Joe wants pressure, and he's crushed by it; he hurts and shoves himself further onto the knife; he begs and demands to be acknowledged in the same motion. It's like Joe was created to drive Basco insane.

Marvey is a perfect prey animal to the animal hindbrain buried under Basco's flippery and taunting smiles; he'll hate every second that Basco has hold of him, and fight til his last drop of blood has been spent. But he'll never like it; not even an inch of him would ever enjoy Basco's monstrousness, nor be expected to. And he'll never let Basco catch him; Basco knows that Marvelous would rather put a bullet through his skull than bow to anyone, much less his enemy of so much history and broken trust.

But Joe. Joe will do all these things and more; he'll fight Basco and then suddenly reach for him. He'll hate Basco, then himself; he'll love the pain, and ask for more without shame. He's an appealing but confusing prey to Basco's kaijin side; to his humanlike side, Joe is even more duplicitously tempting.

Basco's vision is hazy and red, eyes slitted open to watch the furrowing down and desperate arches of Joe's expression as Basco thoroughly tongues his mouth, til the boy can barely breathe from it, and then beyond that point until he can't.

Basco need do nothing; Joe can struggle (or beg) all he wants, but the hold-bones won't let go until they're both utterly spent, and Basco's sex is so glutted with Joe's blood - and, eventually, come - that it can hold no more, seeping their mess down Joe's legs through every tiny opening in Basco's pressed-tight seal. And when it's done - when he finally opens, and unties from his victim, Joe will be, just as promised, ruined with the release of their coupling all over him. He'll be scent-marked with Basco's bitter sex for weeks.

No, he's NEVER letting this one go.

[gibken]

Joe's lost, completely devoured by a barrage of sensations and emotions and promises and lies, and all he wants he can feel building low in his stomach, tensing and relaxing and he's lying right on the precipice, and he realizes suddenly that he's holding himself back, hurling himself away from his inevitable climax, and for what?

Because he doesn't love Basco. Is that all it is? It's true enough, he's not sure if love is something he could ever attach to Basco, regardless of which face he wears, or how much his strange and intricate kaijin mating ritual, if that's even what this is, is somehow tailor made to Joe's every wish and dark dirty fantasy. Even worse, he's not sure if Basco himself is even capable of love in a human sense, and whether that makes this more or less a strange and frightening prospect.

No, this isn't love. It's just fucking. The problem is that Joe's never consciously known the pair of acts to be mutually exclusive. Indeed, he's used to needing love to come before the sex act. And yet here he is, struggling with himself, cursing weakly into Basco's mouth as his head starts to spin, only he's too far gone to realize that Basco's keeping him from breathing, that the static at the back of his mind is from lack of oxygen.

If he's ever going to want this again, and he thinks despite everything that maybe he does, he's going to have to give up on his pathetic clutch to something so flighty as love. So what? He hasn't loved since Sid anyway.

He clings as best he can, rolling against Basco as he gives himself in to his most basic instincts, his basest desires. And as he lets go, he arches against Basco, he screams into Basco's mouth even as his mind floods with white fog. He's gone, over the edge, and he doesn't regret it for a second. If he never wakes up, he thinks he'll have died happy.