a.broken.temple.

By. MistressAli

All characters and settings mentioned are (c) Sega, Dic, and Archie.

A/N: Kind of a weird one here. A little gross, I suppose, though I've become immune to this sort of fiction myself :P

I've got a twisted liking of this pair, whom you can probably figure out pretty easily. Was inspired by some fellow fanfic writers and Delerium's 'Karma' album. Sweet!

Rated R or Nc-17 if you're really sensitive. Bu

Another note: this story is pretty AU, I guess. Dosen't tie in to any of my other stories, nor my normal viewpoint of these particular characters. With that crap outta the way...

*a.broken.temple.*

invading my own value

parading my shy security

while gripping my innocence

.thief.

whenever you steal

my punishment's real.

you gave me sorrow.

-- Delerium

I would love to sweep back her sunny hair, to smell it. I can smell it from here. Vanilla. Forest. Pinecones. But I mustn't.

If he sees me he will be angry. I guess because I'd be out stepping my boundaries, mixing pleasure with business as they say.

Or because I'm betraying him.

She is scared. But they all are when they're brought here. The bright lights make them squirm. They see the tools lined up, shining. It would make me cry if I were in their position. She is bound to the chair, sitting. And sweating. There are tears in the corners of her eyes, like little crystalline beads. They aren't falling...they're still gathering. Maybe when I pick up one of the scalpels they will drop into frightened lines down her soft soft cheeks.

The room is chilly, and she is shivering, but I don't feel it. I'm heated. I'm breathing kind of funny too, heavy like, or maybe not, maybe it's more like light and skitterish. Either way it seems I can't get enough breath. It's elusive, like her genitals hidden away between her legs, tightly pressed together. She is trying to protect herself. From what? I haven't said anything to imply...imply my lust.

She can see it maybe, in my eyes. I wonder if it crawls like his. Like HIS Lust. I can recognize that. Even when he doesn't say anything. Even when he doesn't make a gesture.

I know to touch my knees to the ground before him and open my mouth.

Lust is hot. It burns. I swallow hard, and I can almost feel the torture, the agonizing thickness burning down my throat like liquor but nowhere near as satisfying.

She is whimpering. 'Please let me go'. I laugh. I wish I could free you, little one.

I'm hard between the legs. I want to free her from her bonds and let her fly away. Give her a gift that I don't have.

But I'm overpowered by what overpowers me. Lust. He took from me. And so I want to give. I want to cover her body with mine and violate her purity. I want my lust to burn her insides. I don't care about the climax so much. That's an added bonus. I want to *break* her.

I want to make her nothing.

'Please let me go.

I don't know where it is.'

The village.

He lusts for the village. But I don't care.

I can't stop myself. My groin is tight and I'm sweating now. She cringes when I near her. A viper-hiss escapes me; I am latching teeth onto her tender neck and biting. She cries out OH GODS. Heehee. I laugh at her naivety, and taste the blood.

I don't deserve it. It's too sacred for my tainted lips. But I defile it anyway. I swallow it into me.

She is young, this one. I don't know where she came from. Why she wandered this close to the city. When she was captured she was holding a pipe, yes, a pipe, as if that primitive and hastily grabbed weapon would protect her. From HIM. And me...

He hasn't seen her yet. She's nothing to him, just like everything is nothing, and I'm nothing too...but no, that isn't right. I mean something to him. If I don't have any worth than neither does he. Because he wouldn't dirty himself with me...he wouldn't let his sacred flesh touch mine...if I wasn't some kind of sanctity myself...

He came into my mind long ago. He put up graffiti. He marked me. But I scrubbed it off. And he put it back on. And I scrubbed and he put it back and finally he found a permanent way to overtake me.

I am whispering stuff against her neck and she's begging me to stop. 'Please stop, don't hurt me.' She is young but she tries to appeal to my merciful side. Maybe she'd seen something else in my eyes below the lust. I didn't see how she could. It was buried so far beneath everything else, but somehow she'd seen my softness under all the shields. 'You don't want to hurt me. You're not really bad. You don't have to do this.'

But I do.

No, I don't.

He wants me to.

The village. He wants it.

I don't care.

My body is my temple.

I am whispering for her to shut up.

My hand creeps between her legs and a finger invades her.

My body is my temple.

She cries out in that childish voice. No. NO nO.

NOOO.

I have another finger inside her. She is tight. But she's a kid, no shit. I really shouldn't do this.

I have to do it.

Well, no I don't.

He kicked down the temple door and left it forever open to his advances. He broke the windows and let his filth flood in. I scrubbed but couldn't erase his stink. It filled me. I bloated with it.

She is clean inside.

I want to do it.

She is a temple and I have come to wash my sins in her blood.

She screams.

In front of me the monitor lights up.

I die.

Not really.

He has appeared to watch my interrogations. I guess I made up my own method. The rhythm method.

A little joke there.

To break up the angst.

To start my heart beating again.

He says my name.

He always says it like it's a curse. Twists it around into something dirty. And he says it with possessiveness.

'What are you doing?'

'Nothing.' I wrench away from her. It's obvious what I had been doing. She is whimpering, a puddle of blood on the seat. I stare at it. It's like his eyes. But pure. No, tainted. I ruined it.

'It doesn't look like nothing.'

'It's nothing.'

'I want you to come down here at once. To discuss this little infraction. In person.'

Now I am whimpering. The girl looks up with her clouded baby eyes. She should hate me. She does. She knows too, she suddenly knows knowledge she shouldn't. And she smirks. Because she knows what happened to my broken-down temple and she knows why I tried to break hers and she knows she's now free (but not really) and she knows he will mark me again and again until the day I die.

And she revels in it.

Four minutes ago, she was innocent.

And now she's like me.

I die.

But not really.

I go down to the ROOM. It is so big and my footsteps echo. I feel small here. He probably built it that way intentionally. He fills a space so grandly in his body and relishes it. He knows this place makes me feel dwarfed.

I think there's a pun in there somewhere.

I don't know why he decided to break my temple apart. I think he just got tired of my stupidity. I guess he wanted something more to fill the emptiness here. In him. In this place. To replace his lust for the village with lust for something else. To try and break his obsession with it.

'Why were you fucking her.'

'I don't know.'

I wanted to control her.

I don't say that aloud.

'That wasn't in the rules. Dear boy.' Pretty boy.

Piece of shit boy.

Worthless faggot boy.

I wish his eyes would stop burning me. They hurt. He rips me apart with one gaze. And he won't stop staring. Staring.

He's undressing me with his eyes.

Stop it...

I don't say that aloud either.

'How dare you.

You'll be punished for this insolence. For your sick behavior. Punished severely.'

Yeah. I know.

I realize I never zipped my pants back up.

I guess it doesn't matter much.

Because they are on the floor. And my shirt. And the stone walls of my temple are strewn everywhere.

This is really sick. Sick behavior.

He gets ready inside my mouth. It's so warm there. And he loves it. He expands like moss in the cracks of a stone temple's walls.

Plants can break apart stone, you know.

I'm a harsh replicate of the young girl. I think they took her back down to the holding cells. Maybe she'll suicide. If she's smart, she will.

I'm begging like she did. 'You don't want to do this.'

'Oh but I do.'

And he says my name to punish me. It hurts me so grievously to hear the sneering lick to the end, the bruising of my moniker, the dragging of it through the mud and the way he clenches it in his hand like a treasure. To ensure I know I'm his...

NO. please don't do this.

Not again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And again

And he's ready now.

After this I'll need to find some outlet, I think. It's not safe to fuck the prisoners anymore. He'll see. He sees. Saw. He's jealous.

Maybe I can cut myself. I heard people do that to gain control. To control the level of pain. To counteract the screaming inside.

Maybe I can drink.

Wait...I already do that.

And cutting, I do that too.

Oh hell.

Ok. Something else.

Drugs.

I have an addiction. A bad one.

To painkillers.

Damn and shit.

And fuck. Me. fuck. He's. fuck. -ing.

NOOOOOOOOO

It looks funny with all those 'O's.

Please don't do this this isn't right this is wrong how can you do this we are we are our temples are

I scream like a girl. Like *the* girl. I even bleed like her.

My body arches back like a tortured bow. He grunts and groans and hisses my name into my ear. He has me on his chair and he is standing, with his hands cutting into my hips and pulling me back so harshly, so very roughly. This is agony.

Noo noo please don't do this please jul nooopleasegodhelpmemytempleourtemplethe

It's hard to form coherent thoughts at the moment.

Isbuiltbythesameblood.

He is driving forward.

I think about the girl and how I damaged her for nothing. It didn't help me. But I still do it. Have done it.

Another way?

A knife.

To kill me.

To kill him.

My heart aches inside. He's against it. He's thrusting into it without even touching it. No, he's lower down in my body and it hurts like dying. But he touches my heart nonetheless, the pain spreading from the entrance of my poor violated and broken temple to creep onto my heart, like vines, black malignant twisting around and shriveling me dry.

I couldn't kill him.

His face is a demon's and I stare up blurry eyed.

He leans down and spits my name into my face. My fucking curse.

I really couldn't kill him.

Just like the girl hated me but wouldn't kill me. Because she understood. Because she knew I suffered even as I sinned her. She knew my suffering was greater compared to hers.

I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him.

I hurt like dying but he must hurt like hell.

The next day.

Everything was the same.

I sat there and watched our streets and shifted occasionally because I was sore. He was always so brutal, uncaring of my frailty.

He sat in his chair and stared and stared and stared into nothing and I wondered what he saw in the dead air.

'Why don't we give up.'

'We can't.'

'Why not.'

'Because we're trapped, you and I.'

'They won't kill us.'

'It doesn't matter. I'll die if I surrender.'

'You're already dead.'

'Don't talk to me like that.'

'I'm dead too.'

'I said don't talk like that.'

'I want out.' I was crying.

He screamed. 'There is no way out of this.'

I recoiled. 'Don't touch me.'

'It's all I have now.'

'I'm all you have?'

'Shut up.'

'I want to hear that again.'

'I said shut up.'

'Let's go away. Where they can't find us.'

'It doesn't matter if we disappear. I tell you we are trapped. Not by them. By ME.'

I can't believe it.

He admitted he's wrong.

Somewhere inside my temple a flower took hold.

I thought this might be a sign of something good.

'You won't get out. As long as I'm lost so are you. We're one now, you know. You're mine.'

He trampled the flower under his massive foot. Clouds of stinking pollen rose upon its death and planted seeds of misery into my already abundant crop.

'Are you mine, too?'

'I never said it worked both ways.'

Yeah.

That figures.

Somewhere in the city a princess and a hero broke a young girl free from robots. She was maybe fourteen years old. They knew she had been abused. In a bad way. They knew who did it too. Because it was his new hobby. The sick little fuck they said.

She didn't cry though. She smiled.

'It's ok', the princess said.

'I know.'

They went away to the village and she never stopped smiling.

Her smile was like graffiti marring a temple painting. Like putting a fake mustache onto a picture of someone. It isn't theirs. But it becomes theirs. It marks them forever.

'He's in more pain than me.

I can smile because of that.

Even if the smile isn't mine.

It doesn't matter.'

They shrugged. And then went back to drawing up plans. The end of the war was drawing near. They would take down the uncle and nephew. The slaver and the rapist. The pair of matching psychos.

The girl sat and smiled.

In the city I curled at his feet and rested my head on his thigh. It felt like an end was drawing near. They would come in and finally destroy us.

They would demolish my temple completely and scatter the ashes uncaring.

And I didn't care.

In fact, I couldn't wait.

I just hoped

We died together.

I hated him but we were so dependent on each other. It's so grudgingly hard to admit that. If I died without him I'd lose myself.

There has to be some other way...

The light on the console beeped and we were informed of another captured prisoner.

He knew what I'd do but he sent me down anyway. What a game this was.

I went down to interrogation and saw him. Two tailed. Young. Enemy.

A new temple to defile.

Graffiti to spray.

Perception to taint.

We surely were one now.

I was just like HIM now.

I might've died at that thought.

But I was already dead.

I think this is a good place to end.

It never really ends.