Conceived in a very dark mood. Songfic- Tool: Prison Sex. Inspired by Jemisard's "Tapes". Very dark, disturbing and angry. I toned it down. Now it's more creepy than horrific.

Warnings: Violence, Rape, Shota-con

WEP owns Voltron.

“Guys!”

Lance shouted down the corridor. Stepping over the corpse in the hallway, he took a few tentative steps towards where the rest of the group was searching for its missing man.

“I found him!”

Keith’s voice, thinned by distance, answered him. “We’re coming!”

Lance turned back to the prisoner. Hunk’s hands were bound above his head, tied tightly to a ring in the wall. The big man sat quietly, clad only in filthy rags, soft brown eyes staring intently at nothing.

“Hey, big guy.” Lance leaned over and reached out to pat the burly shoulder.

Hunk jerked back. The chocolate eyes flashed rings of white.

“Hey, hey, it’s just me, Lance.” The other pilot began working at the ropes that bound his comrade. “Sheesh, you’re jumpy. These assholes hurt you?”

Silence.

Lance managed to untie the knot that held Hunk. The big man’s arms fell limply into his lap.

“Well, let’s get you out of here. We can talk about it later, ok?”

No answer.

“Lance! How is he?” Keith’s footsteps approached behind him.

“I don’t know. He seems kinda out of it.”

“He could be drugged, or just shook up a bit. Hey, Hunk, you all right?” Keith reached out a hand. Hunk cringed, and that crazed look came back into his brown eyes.

“I see what you mean.” Ignoring Hunk’s statement, Keith reached down and grabbed the mechanic’s arm. “Let’s get him back to sickbay and have Dr. Gorma check him out. They might have hurt him worse than what we can see.”

“Well?”

Keith and the others gathered around Dr. Gorma as he emerged from the examination room.

“He’s sleeping,” said the doctor. “I had to give him a sedative. He was nervous. Wouldn’t let me look at him otherwise.”

“Did they hurt him?”

Dr. Gorma paused for a long moment.

“…Yes, Keith, I’m afraid they did.”

Keith, Sven, Lance, and Pidge all exchanged worried looks.

“Well?”

Dr. Gorma shook his head. “I can’t- look, this is a personal matter. I’m afraid I can’t divulge the nature of his injuries.”

“I understand your concern for his privacy, Doctor, but we’re his teammates, and his well-being affects us as a whole. We have a need to know when it comes to the state of our comrade’s health.”

“Very well then.” Gorma sighed. “He’s been raped, I’m afraid. There’s… extensive damage. He’s going to be fine physically, of course; we’ll just have to give him some time to heal.”

“Oh, God,” muttered Keith.

The rest of the team shuffled their feet in silence.

Keith felt Pidge’s small fingers twist over and around his hand. He tried to ignore the tiny sobbing sounds coming from the smallest pilot on the Force. “It’s ok, Pidge,” he said, without looking at the boy. “He’s ok. We saved him.”

“I want to see him,” said the small voice.

“Of course,” said Dr. Gorma. “He’s asleep now, but after he wakes up I’m going to release him to his quarters. You guys keep an eye on him, ok? He needs your support.”

“Of course, doctor. Come on, Pidge. You can see him.”

Pidge sobbed softly as he stroked the dark hair. Only a few months ago, Hunk had done the same to him.

He’d been reading in bed, and the door opened. Those big boots made a lot less noise than Pidge imagined they would. He was mildly surprised to find Hunk standing beside his bed.

“Hey, squirt. You should be asleep.”

“Why aren’t you?” Pidge let Hunk take the book from his hands, content to chat with the larger pilot instead.

“I’m heading that way. I saw your light was still on.” Hunk put the book away and sat down, his weight rocking the bed slightly.

Pidge moved towards the comforting bulk, curving his body into Hunk’s warmth. Without thinking, he reached over and took the meaty hand, the nails still blackened by mechanical grime. Hunk pulled away, but gently, a slight frown on his generous face.

“Pidge, we agreed we wouldn’t do this.”

“What do you mean ‘we’?”

“Ok, I said we wouldn’t do this. You’re too young.”

Pidge pouted. “I know what I’m doing.”

“I know you think you do. But you’re a child.”

Pidge sat up and scowled. “I’m fifteen. I wish you’d stop treating me like I’m such a baby. I’m Baltonian. I look small for my age.”

Hunk’s eyes remained gentle and just a little bit sad. “Pidge, I’m twenty-three.”

“…That’s not a big age difference.”

“What are you saying? That’s huge!”

“Just say it.”

“Say what?”

“You don’t like me.”

“Pidge, I do like you. I like you more than anything. But I also want you to grow up a little bit more first. You’re not ready for a relationship like that.”

Pidge grabbed Hunk’s hand again. “If you like me so much, then kiss me.”

“…No.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because you’re not old enough!”

“Shit, Hunk, it’s not like I just asked you to fuck me or anything like that!”

“Pidge, there’s a lot more to what you and I have than just… as you so eloquently put it, fucking. And I’d rather not screw it all up, okay? So drop it.”

“No.”

Hunk stood up. “Then I’m going to bed.”

Pidge’s sudden tears seemed to startle the big mechanic. “What?” he said, suddenly concerned, sitting back down.

“You don’t like me. You’re just leading me on.”

Hunk sighed. “I do like you, Pidge. More than you’ll ever realize.”

“Then stop playing these games.”

Hunk leaned down and began stroking Pidge’s forehead. Pidge calmed at the touch. “It’s not a game. I’m waiting for the right time. I think it’s the best way. Pidge, there’s a lot about me that you need to understand first.”

“Like what?”

“Just stuff. It’s a long story. But if you really want me to, I’ll kiss you. Just once.”

With that, Hunk bent down and pressed his lips, briefly, to the boy’s mouth. Pidge kissed back, hard, and leaned up, trying to prolong the moment, but Hunk pulled away. Pidge sighed and settled back onto his pillow, lips still tingling from the recent contact.

“There. Convinced that I still like you?”

Pidge caught a glimpse of the bulge in the crotch of Hunk’s cargo pants, and grinned in spite of the seriousness of the moment. “Yeah, I’m convinced.”

Hunk blushed intensely, and Pidge giggled. “Sorry.” He forced his face back into a mask of sobriety. “Don’t be embarrassed. It’s a perfectly normal and healthy biological reaction.”

“Yeah, but you know, I didn’t want you to think… oh, never mind. I’m going to bed.” Turning, careful to keep his back to Pidge, Hunk went to the door. He grabbed the knob, then stopped. “Oh, Pidge?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re one hell of a kisser.”

“So are you, Hunk,” said Pidge through his tears as his fingers combed through the ebony hair. “You are one hell of a kisser.”

Moaning groggily, Hunk stirred, moving towards the touch. A smile touched his lips as Pidge’s fingers caressed him.

“You do love me, don’t you? Why wouldn’t you ever say it? Did you think I was too young to hear it?”

Hunk grumbled something unintelligible and settled back into his drugged sleep.

“We’ll work it out, Hunk. I promise.”

“It’s time he ate something,” said Nanny, as she piled the plate with extra helpings. “I’m going to take him some food.” She disappeared with the laden tray, heading for Hunk’s room.

“He hasn’t said a word, either,” said Keith. “It’s so unlike him.”

The rest of the Voltron Force resumed eating in silence. Hunk was definitely not right, not right at all. Whenever they tried to talk to him, he stared off into space, brown eyes drifting in and out of focus, as if there were some bad intermittent connection between them and his brain. When they reached out to touch him, his eyes widened with an statement of… what was that look, anyway? It was more than fear; it was more like loathing. Even Pidge couldn’t get near him. What had brought about the abrupt change in their formerly easygoing teammate?

“I think he needs a psych-review, guys.”

Sven nodded at Keith’s suggestion. “I agree, he needs an interview. I pulled his personnel record. Nothing in his psychological profile indicates that he’d react so negatively to trauma. He tested normal across the board. Actually, anyone would be proud to have his profile. He’s a very stable individual.”

Pidge’s fork clattered noisily to the table. All eyes turned to focus on the small pilot.

“Shit, people!” Pidge’s voice was hard, raspy with anger. “He got fucking screwed in the ass by Lotor and God knows who else, God only knows how many times and for God only knows how long, and you act all fucking surprised that he’s acting weird? I can’t believe you people! Give the man a break!”

Keith’s voice came gently. “Pidge, we just need to bring him out of his shell a little bit, that’s all. I want him to get back to normal as badly as you do. Sven here is an expert on psychology. He can help. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

“I already know what’s at the bottom of this,” grumbled Pidge. “He just needs some TLC, not you asking him a bunch of stupid questions that he won’t answer anyway.”

A scream shattered the uncomfortable silence.

“Nanny!” cried Allura, turning the corner and finding the matronly lady sprawled out on the floor of the corridor. “What happened?”

Nanny stood up, dusting herself off. “I- I think I’m all right. I was bringing him some food, and I set the tray down here, so I could open the door. Well, as soon as I opened it- he…”

Nanny shuddered.

“What?” asked Keith.

“He… charged. He knocked me down.” She shook her head slowly. “He didn’t look like himself. The look in his eyes… it was like he was… crazed.”

Pidge peeked into the room. “He’s not in there.”

“No. After he bowled me over, he took off down the hall. He went that way.” Nanny pointed.

“I’ll get him,” said Lance and Sven in unison. Keith and Allura bent down and helped Nanny to her feet. Pidge shrugged and followed the other two pilots, now running, calling after the man he loved.

“As far as we can tell, he’s in the catacombs. Are you sure we don’t have a map somewhere?” Lance hovered on the edge of exasperation, glaring at Allura.

“I told you, Lance, the catacombs is an ancient structure. It’s only been mapped as far as Alfor’s grave, but we know it extends far beyond the castle walls. If you want to go in after Hunk, I’d suggest taking a flashlight and a comm set. It’s not even wired for electricity down there, and it’s easy to get turned around.”

“Why in the hell would Hunk head for the catacombs?” asked Sven. “He hates it down there. He hates the dark.”

“I don’t know, but let’s organize a search team. Sven, go to sickbay and get some more sedatives from Dr. Gorma. While you’re down there, order up a full psychological workup for Hunk once we get him back. We’re going to get to the bottom of whatever this is.”

Sven froze, staring at Dr. Gorma’s computer monitor. He’d come into sickbay only to find the good doctor out of his office, perhaps caring for some other patient, and it was only by chance that he had caught a glimpse of what the doctor had been looking at.

He blinked and shuddered, then reached down and pushed ‘print’. He had to show the others.

It took so long to remember just what happened.
I was so young and vestal then,
you know it hurt me,
but I'm breathing so I guess I'm still alive
even if signs seem to tell me otherwise.
I've got my hands bound,
my head down , my eyes closed,
and my throat wide open.

Do unto others what has been done to you

Keith shuddered, too, when Sven gave him the printout.

“My God. He had a confidential record?”

“What do you mean?” asked Pidge, ever insistent, pushing his way into the tightly knit ring of bodies.

“It’s a medical record, so it wouldn’t be available as part of his normal psychological profile. Besides, they decided to keep quiet about this one, probably because his service record’s so stable. He was undergoing treatment for post-traumatic stress syndrome.”

“But what happened to him?” asked Lance.

“He was molested,” said Keith, his voice raspy. “Says right here.” He pointed to the printout. “Multiple incidents, multiple perpetrators… good God, it says the attacks started back when he was five years old.”

“What sort of pervert-“ began Lance.

“Perverts,” corrected Sven.

“He was an orphan,” said Keith. “We already knew that. Looks like he got caught up in one of those ever-present child pornography rings. They used him to make movies and magazines.”

Pidge suddenly sat down, hard, on the floor. His face was ashen, and he looked as if he might faint.

“Pidge! You ok?”

“He- he wanted to protect me…”

“Protect you from what? Pidge, you’re not making any sense.” Keith helped the boy back to his feet, but Pidge slumped against his commander.

“He didn’t want me to go through what he went through. I can’t believe he wouldn’t tell me!” Pidge collapsed into Keith’s arms, sobbing bitterly.

“I don’t understand, Pidge. Did you guys talk about this at some point?”

“Not really. He mentioned something about how I needed to know some stuff about him before he- I mean, before we-“

“Before what?” Lance’s face was tight with concern.

“Before we became lovers.”

Now Allura paled. “You and Hunk? But I thought you guys were-“

“Straight?” Pidge turned away from Keith and wiped his eyes on his sleeve. “No, not a day in our lives, at least not me. I told Hunk I had a crush on him back about a year ago. He said he felt the same way, but it was best for us to wait. I never understood why he wanted to drag it out so long… until now.” He sniffled. “Right before he was captured, he kissed me for the first time.”

Keith recoiled slightly, but said nothing. Sven took the papers from him.

“It says here he was undergoing hypnosis and electroshock therapy every week for his condition, and that it had apparently stabilized the psychosis.” He shrugged. “That’s funny, I don’t remember Hunk ever going in for any sort of treatment.”

Lance looked at the report. “Of course we do! Remember, he always said he went to religious services on Sundays? Hunk said he was a Christian. He always went alone.”

“A Christian?” asked Allura.

“Some old Terran religion. Except he wasn’t going to see a priest. He was going to see a psychiatrist.”

“Hm,” said Keith. “He never missed a Sunday, that’s for sure. I had always thought he was pretty devout. I never questioned where he was going.”

Sven spoke up. “Perhaps the… torture… awakened some bad memories for him,” said Sven. “Destabilized him somehow.”

Pidge almost shouted. “Quit talking about him like he’s some kind of machine! Hunk’s our friend, and he needs our help!” He grabbed a flashlight. “And I’m going in there after him.”

I'm treading water,
I need to sleep a while.
My lamb and martyre, you look so precious.
Won't you come a bit closer,
close enough so I can smell you.
I need you to feel this,
I can't stand to burn too long.
Released in this sodomy.
For one sweet moment I am whole.

Do unto you now what has been done to me.

Darkness, silence. All was good. Stay away, away from the others, away from the light. You are not a creature of the light; you don’t deserve their love. Their sympathy is only loathing in disguise.

Hunk reeled as he staggered down the rough-hewn rocky floor of the catacombs. The pain was intense. He felt stickiness and knew that he was bleeding again, that his recent activity had reopened the wounds. No matter; he’d bled worse before. Still, it sent him into a rage, that after all these years Lotor would single him out and fuck him.

That was because Lotor knew that he was weak. Just like the others, they had discovered his weakness. Silly doctors, their treatments meant nothing. They only prolonged his suffering, tried to convince him that he was not a weak individual, but he knew better.

Weak. Sissy-boy. Shithole. Fuck you in the ass.

He wanted to die. And he would destroy whomever tried to lead him back up into the light.

You're breathing so I guess you're still alive
even if signs seem to tell me otherwise.
Won't you come just a bit closer,
close enough so I can smell you.
I need you to feel this.
I need this to make me whole.
There's release in this sodomy.
For I am your witness that
blood and flesh can be trusted.
And only this one holy medium brings me piece of mind.

Got your hands bound, your head down,
your eyes closed.
You look so precious now.

Pidge shuddered. The cold and damp of the catacombs, the dry bones that rattled at his touch… it was almost too much for him. Too much, actually. If he hadn’t known that Hunk was down here somewhere, he’d never have come this far.

The voices coming over his comm set reassured him enough to keep pressing on. Keith, Lance, and the others were searching too. He called Hunk’s name again and again.

“Hunk,” he said. “Tsuyoshi… please answer.”

He paused. Was that a sound that his own feet had made, or was someone following him?

His ears strained, listening. Nothing.

“Hunk?”

He stood silently for a few minutes, listening to the pounding of his heart.

“Please, Hunk, I’m scared.” The tremor in his voice was evident. He swept the beam of his flashlight around, illuminating the rough walls, the crypts that lined them filled with piles of bones. “I don’t like being here, Hunk. Let’s go back up to the surface, okay?”

He resumed walking, but something was making the skin on the back of his neck prickle. He paused again, and again thought he heard a sound.

He turned around again. The vacant blackness behind him yawned, swallowing the beam of his flashlight; he spun again, suddenly aware of the dark chasm that lay all around.

It was then that he realized his comm set had fallen silent.

He clicked it. “Guys?”

Static.

Shit, thought Pidge. The signal can’t travel very well underground. There must be a thousand metric tons of rock between the others and myself. He turned and began backtracking.

The flashlight’s beam reflected off the whites of Hunk’s eyes.

“SHIT!”

Pidge dropped the light, which went out. He heard it bouncing away, and scrabbled frantically in the darkness to find it.

“Shit, Hunk, are you trying to scare me to death? It’s creepy enough down here without you sneaking up on people and- unf!“

Hands on him, grabbing him around the waist. Not the way Hunk held him- the grip was stronger now, even stronger than when they were practicing martial arts.

“Hunk, quit it! You’re hurting me!”

I have found some kind of temporary sanity in this
shit blood and cum on my hands.

The small one, small as he had once been small. The one who had begged him for it, wanted it so badly, wanted it now. He could smell it, smell the want and the fear and the loathing that poured off the boy’s skin in heady waves. He pushed his face into the neck, smelling the sweetness of sweat.

“Hunk, what are you-“

Too much fabric. He wanted the flesh.

“Hunk, please don’t -”

The skin, so tight, so soft against the hard muscles of the chest, fragrant with the boy’s aroma. He licked it, tasting the saltiness.

“Why-“

He clapped a hand over the noise hole. Children should be seen and not heard.

Of course, it was dark, so he couldn’t see this one either. Was this one really here, then? The squirming mass beneath him felt like a boy. Was it?

He had to release the boy’s mouth in order to get the pants off. The child had stopped struggling, was whispering soft incoherent love into his ear.

“Hunk, I know you’re hurting… and I know that if you were in your right mind, you wouldn’t do this to me. You’ve been through a lot, and- ah!”

Pidge squeezed his eyes shut with the pain. Then the hot body was pressed up against his, sweat-slicked and heavy, too heavy. Somehow he managed to keep talking.

“- and… they hurt you- uh! And you love me, I know you love me enough not to hurt me-“

Gods, he was being torn apart. He began to sob in spite of himself.

Hunk still didn’t stop. Pidge began to scream.

I've come round full circle.
My lamb and martyr, this will be over soon.
You look so precious.

“God- oh God, Pidge.” Keith bent over the small, broken form. “He’s unconscious.”

“What happened-“ began Lance. Then his flashlight illuminated the naked body twisted on the moist floor. “Oh- never mind.”

Keith lifted the boy into his arms. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

“What about Hunk?”

“Let him be. We’ll post a guard at the catacombs entrance. If he tries to escape, they’ll stun him.”

“Um, Keith?”

“Yeah?”

“Which way is out?”

~owari~