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[rareanomys]

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[kernezelda]

“All you have to do,” Sebastian Shaw said, crouching by Charles’s head, hands draped between his legs, “is say yes.” His blue eyes crinkled at the edges, emphasizing the cold quirk of his smile, the self-assurance coating every word, the confidence that the world would fall into its prescribed order – his prescribed order. Charles dragged a hand across his mouth, wincing at the sharp sting where his lower lip had split. Red smeared the back of it, and he could feel warm-cooling stickiness across his cheeks, his chin – though most of that wasn’t blood. Neither was most of the liquid dripping from his arse. He’d have to get up, find his trousers – underpants a complete loss, ripped and tossed into the rain-swollen pond – and make his way back to his dorm. Avoid anyone he could. The seniors who’d raped him had left him minutes before, and somehow, as usual, Shaw had found him. Maybe Frost had-- “Charles.” Shaw sounded bored, impatient. “Is this really how you want the next four years to play out? I’ve seen your entry records, seen your marks. You could achieve a brilliant career here, if you’d just--” “Submit?” Charles turned his head and spat, spat again to try to rid himself of the taste of come – something he’d grown far too familiar with in his two months at Essex's Genosha Academy. “You’re mad, Shaw. This whole place--” His brain buzzed with a sudden white-capped wash of static, the inhibitor blocking his attempt to shove his anger outward, to blast the older boy away. He broke off, flinching, still not used to the suppression of his telepathy. Essex himself had devised it, ostensibly to help telepaths learn to interact normally, instead of using their ability as a crutch. A training tool, he’d said, when he’d strapped Charles down and shaved behind his ear and punched it into the bone of his skull. Shaw had asked him to do it. Charles had seen that much before his mind caught on fire. Shaw had told Essex that Charles had been abusing his gift, tried to manipulate the student council. And Sebastian Shaw was Essex’s favorite pupil, given free rein over Genosha's student body. And its students' bodies, so long as there was no permanent damage to explain to parents. Maybe it hadn't been Frost, maybe there was a tracker in the implant-- A hand caught Charles’s chin, forced his face upward. “Still haven’t learned that lesson, either, have you?” Shaw took a handkerchief from his breast pocket and reached down to roughly wipe Charles’ face clean. He glanced around the half-hidden nook between hedges and the marshy area of the school’s pond. Grabbed Charles’s defensively raised arms, forced him flat on his back, and knelt on his legs to keep him still. “I could fuck you right here,” he said, and wedged his shiny shoes against Charles’s calves, shoved them apart. “But I don’t care for sloppy seconds.” “You set me up as, as a target my first week here.” Breathlessly, Charles stared at him, not foolish enough to spit or attack, to rile Shaw while in his hands. The senior’s mutation took and stored energy from physical impact; he could easily shatter Charles’s bones, crush his organs. And no staff member would do a thing – or could, those who might try. “Half of your gang’s had me, so by your own words, you don’t want me anymore.” He concentrated, trying to get a grip on Shaw’s thoughts. Sometimes, if he was touching someone, he could still reach in… He gasped as the static flared again, eyes scrunching shut tight. “Tsk. Charles, Charles. You’re such a stubborn little freshie.” Sebastian shook him by the chin, then dropped him, rising to his feet. “I thought you were so smart, but book-learning isn’t everything. Sometimes you have to interact in the real world.” He pressed the sole of one of his shoes between Charles’s thighs, pushed down lightly on trapped cock and balls while Charles froze, eyes narrowing and jaws clenching with anticipation of further agony.

“You were told the rules when you got here. Doms get to choose; subs get chosen. Doms decide; subs obey.” Shaw smiled, a lovely-faced boy with the soul of a monster. He tapped his foot. Dull pain arced out from Charles’s groin. He bit his lip to hold in a groan, clutched his fingers into the dirt and unmown grass, long and tough beneath him. “Stupid games,” he gritted out, breaths growing fast and rapid. “You’ve no right--” “We said you’d be a sub,” Shaw continued, placid. “The student council decided, and I generously offered to take you on.” He rubbed his foot in a circle, grinding lightly. Mud and whatever was stuck to the bottom of his shoe scratched against Charles’s tender skin. He closed his eyes. Shaw wouldn’t listen. “Can’t you just leave me alone‽” Charles clapped both hands around Shaw’s ankle and sent the thought, encased in a cloud of anger, as hard as he could. He forced it past the white-hot pins and needles piercing his mind, raised both legs and drove them upward into Shaw’s crotch. Sure, the blow would make him stronger, but no boy could ignore the physical threat. Shaw stumbled back, didn’t fall, more’s the pity, but enough for Charles to drag himself upright. Forget the trousers – he still had the long white button-up, just past hip-length, though smeared with mud and come and blood, and if he could just block – block out the pain between his legs, shoving up along his spine – yes! – he could run. And Charles could run like the wind. “You’ll come to me eventually,” Shaw shouted after him, furious and red-faced. Charles didn’t bother to answer, trying to think of where to go. Not to his dorm, Shaw would come for him there, or worse, send lieutenants to drag him naked through the halls again. Not to any of the instructors, they were all under Essex’s thumb, and Essex took any excuse to bring students down to his laboratory for whatever medical and mutation tests he could devise. Erik. The new boy, a senior transferred in two days ago and not yet inducted into the school’s awful tradition. Seniors had private rooms with en-suite baths; and he’d seemed… not exactly friendly, but at least uninterested in Shaw’s gang when Charles had glimpsed them talking together across the quad. Maybe Erik would let him use the bath, wouldn’t want anything from Charles. It was a slim hope for charity from anyone sent to this school, but better than none at all.

Kinkmeme prompt, partial fill:  http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/3278.html?thread=4185038#t4185038