Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Grian had really done it now. 

 

No, really.. he *really* had done it. A major fuckup, the type of fuckup he knew would cause his hotheaded boyfriend to spiral. 

 

And spiral, he did. 

 

Grian sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes fixated on the tan wall of their shared bedroom rather than Scar's pacing back and forth - Grian palmed the silk sheets that adorned the bedframe underneath him, taking comfort in how soft and velvety they felt. It was in times like these that he wished he was somewhere else, perhaps someplace far away from Scar's abuse.. 

 

A resort, perhaps a tropical paradise? With frozen margaritas and the bright sun shining on his face, sipping the fruity cocktail as he listened to waves of the ocean.. 

 

Yeah. 

 

That sounded nice. 

 

“I don't understand why you did it.”

 

Scar snapped Grian out of his daydream, the man's eyes drifting off of the wall to Scar's expression - anger, contempt, disappointment. All emotions Grian expected, all emotions the man himself had experienced. 

 

Anger, the first time Scar raised his hand to him. 

 

Contempt, the moment Scar began to threaten him.

 

Disappointment, for this was what his life consisted of. Daily beatings, scarce food to manage his skinny figure, and harsh words that rolled off his tongue. 

 

“..I'm sorry.”

 

A scoff from Scar, the audacity of Grian to proclaim he's “sorry” after trying to escape. Scar crouched down, his hand on Grian's jaw - tilting it upwards, forcing the man to lock eyes with him.

 

“You know there's no escape, even in death.”

 

It's true. There was no escape. He was stuck. Grian closed his eyes, trying to imagine a distant paradise. He knew what what the answer to this question would be, but he asked it anyways:

 

“..how can I make it up to you?”

 

It wasn't a surprise when Grian heard the rustling of Scar's pants being taken off, his leather belt unclasping, and the sound of a low groan - Grian opened one eye, peeking - and, yep.. Scar had taken off his pants and boxers, his cock finally free - already half hard. 

 

‘Figured. This is how it's going to go. 

 

“I'm a nice guy, Grian. I really am.”

 

Liar. Grian could barely mask his disgust. A nice guy who cheats, abuses, and rapes? He looked up through lidded-eyes at Scar's now gentle expression, wondering how a man could lie with such a straight face. 

 

Grian couldn't forget the beatings, the cigarette burns on the back of neck, or the welts from Scar's belt. Try as he might to forget, Scar still haunted him - painting his skin different shades of crimson and purples, infecting his dreams with nightmares of his abuse. 

 

“...”

 

Grian had no choice but to obey Scar, he'd kill him if he didn't - and the fact that Scar wasn't actively playing with a knife was already lucky enough, he didn't want to tip the scales out of his favor. 

 

So, what did he do? 

 

He leaned back, spread his legs, and gritted his teeth - his body already conditioned to do so, it was second nature to him. 

 

Pleasing Scar sexually to avoid one of his “punishments” was as natural to Grian as breathing or walking. 

 

Sometimes, the man would get down on his knees and suck Scar off. Other times, he'd present himself like a common whore - trying to give himself *some* semblance of control over when Scar would fuck him, trying to take just a *little* bit of power back. 

 

But as the leaves fell off the trees and the air grew colder.. Grian could sense that, like the season, Scar was changing. 

 

But he wasn't changing for the better. 

 

“We're going to try something different.”

 

Grian's eyes widened as he heard those words, different *never* was good. Different meant something unexpected, something that Grian hadn't yet formulated how to handle. 

 

The man's mouth went dry as Scar pulled out a small syringe, full of an unknown “medication”.

 

“Cool, right?”

 

Not cool. Very, *very* uncool. 

 

Grian shivered, his body taut with tension and his lips curved into a deep frown. He'd scoot his body away from Scar, retreating further up the bed - his legs closed, his teeth chattering, and his body upright - a contrast to earlier. 

 

“I don't want this..”

 

A laugh. 

 

“It's not about what you want, G. It's about making it up to me.”

 

Those words hit Grian hard. Harder than usual. Sure, nothing he wasn't already familiar with.. Scar cared little for Grian or what he wanted, that much the avian hybrid already knew. 

 

But what scared him the most was the presence of that syringe. 

 

And Grian had a feeling that he knew what was in it. 

 

Before he could even process it any further, Grian winced - a prick on his arm, fluid rushing into his veins. 

 

“Wha–?”

 

Scar smiled. That damned smile. Sadastic, pleased with himself.. he always seemed to be oh-so-very-pleased with himself after beating Grian bloody to a pulp, raping his holes, or doing some other unspeakable act to him. 

 

“Nighty-night~!”

 

Grian tried to fight it, he really did. The medication, Scar's abuse, *everything*.

 

But in the end, he slumped over - his head hitting the pillow with a soft thud, his eyes closing slowly - the world had gone dark, his brain foggy. 

 

*“What a cruel, disgusting man.*”

 

He thought as his last bit of consciousness slipped away from him. 

Chapter Text

“Aw, you're pissing. That's adorable!”

 

Those were the first words Grian heard as he finally started to stir, his eyes half-open. He desperately tried to fight the drug, but in the end.. he was powerless, like *always*. 

 

“I knew the drug could cause frequent urination, but nothing like *this*!”

 

What was Scar babbling about? Grian's eyebrows knitted together, his head feeling like a pound of cement - what had happened? What was going on?

 

“...”

 

Wetness, *everywhere*. Underneath him, on-top of him, *inside* him. When he finally came to his senses, it was apparent just how *fucked* he was. 

 

Arms tied behind his back with Scar's infamous lasso, his hands bounded together like he were a prized *pig*. 

 

Scar had used him many, many times. Grian could feel the cum sloshing around inside of him, the ache from the bite marks on his neck, the burn from the rope.. everything was so raw, so real, so *utterly painful*. 

 

The way the rope dug into his flesh, tears prickled at the corner of his eyes from the pain. Why was Scar so cruel? How did they get here? 

 

“Crying, G? Isn't that a bit beneath you?”

 

Grian sniffled, trying desperately to stop the tears - but in the end, they trailed down his cheeks and dampened his face - more wetness, more pain, more suffering. 

 

Scar was above him, abusing and raping his holes. Each thrust felt like fire burning through his veins, each movement electrifying the man's body - and not in the good way.  

 

“Come on now, *breathe*.”

 

Scar raised a hand, Grian instinctively flinched - ready for a slap, a blow, *anything*. 

 

But in the end, all Scar did was caress Grian's cheek - his calloused hands rough against the other man's skin, like sandpaper. Grian cringed, he couldn't mask his disgust like he had prior - he pulled away, his eyes squeezing shut. 

 

And Scar?

 

Scar didn't like that. 

 

“I'm trying to be nice, why do you have to be such a *brat*, G?”

 

Scar firmly grabbed Grian's leaking cock, pulling and tugging and yanking on the body part to milk the last little bit of urine out of him - Grian didn't open his eyes, he kept them shut as more tears trailed down his cheeks. 

 

“Scar, stop– hurts!”

 

Grian hissed through gritted teeth, and yet? Scar only shushed him. 

 

“Sh, sh, sh.. I got'ya. It's *’supposed* to hurt.”

 

Of course it was, Grian groaned out in a mix of pain and frustration. If his hands weren't tied behind his back, if he could just *fight back*.. would things be different? 

 

Scar didn't let up, jerking Grian off with a rough hand. The man's cock was half-hard, and yet? He found himself growing even *harder*. 

 

Why? 

 

Well, one would assume if you once loved someone.. your body may still react to them, even when they're raping you. 

 

Gross.

 

“Scar, *please*.. I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry–!”

 

Grian finally broke as Scar pulled out of him, finally finishing inside of him for what seemed the millionth time - his leaking asshole expelling the cum that Scar had just filled him with, the cum burning against his flesh.

 

“Sniff, sniff..”

 

Scar chuckled, bringing a hand to Grian's head and softly ruffling his hair. And in Grian's search for comfort, *any* comfort.. he leaned into Scar's touch, rubbing up against him. 

 

“Oh, dear.. we'll have to dry those tears, won't we?”

 

He didn't like the sound of that, but he also desperately wanted to feel okay. So, with a small nod, he'd whisper out: 

 

“..yes.”

 

That's what Scar wanted to hear, right? A “yes, do what you want to me!”. 

 

He'd be safe now, right?

 

“...”

 

..right?

 

“‘Atta boy.”

 

And out flicked the pocket knife, pulled from the drawer of the nightstand. 

 

“This will be fun! Everyone will think you're a mentally-ill freak, you'll be covering your arms for seasons to come!”

 

And as Scar started, Grian screamed. 

 

And screamed. 

 

And ***screamed***. 

 

Screaming until his voice went hoarse and all he could muster out were subtle whimpers, his eyes swollen from the tears he had cried and his lips puffy from his teeth biting into the delicate flesh. 

 

“..s..scar..?”

 

Grian looked through half-lidded eyes at Scar, already starting to clean up the bloody mess he had created - wiping down the blade, sanitizing it for the next use with his spare bottle of alcohol.

 

“Hm?”

 

Grian had to ask. He had to know. 

 

“..do you still love me?”

 

A chuckle, Scar placed the knife down and went to Grian's side. 

 

And leaning down, he'd give him a soft kiss on his forehead. 

 

“Of course I do, you're my everything.”

 

Grian swallowed, attempting to summon more of his strength so that he could speak. He wanted answers. 

 

“..then why?”

 

For a long time, neither male said anything. Scar contemplated the question, Grian awaited his answer.. both men knew that Grian had been bold in asking, but didn't Grian deserve to know why he deserved this abuse? Didn't he deserve some form of closure?

 

In the end, Scar spoke:

 

“I hate when you're happy without me. It pisses me off.”

 

Oh.

 

So that was it?

 

Happiness, his joy that Scar had robbed him of.. that's the reason for all of this? Because he dared once to harbor light in his eyes, he dared to smile? 

 

Grian used to be happy, he used to be carefree and eager-eyed. 

 

Until Scar infected him. 

 

Now he didn't see his friends, his family, much less anyone outside of Scar..

 

Finally, Grian spoke:

 

“If I wasn't happy, if I had just been as miserable as you.. would you still have done what you did?”

 

Another chuckle.

 

“Probably not.”