Obedience - a Holokara/Linksano fic

[aunt_zelda]

Title: Obedience

Rating: NC-17 for sexual content

Word Count: 1,122

Characters, Pairings: Holokara/Linksano, onesided Linksano/Linkara, mentions of Mechakara and Vyce

Warnings: Non-con. Dub-con. Mentions of past non-con. Fears of homophobia.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, and I have no idea where this came from.

Summary: Holokara finds a way to keep Linksano in line while Linkara is away.

A/N: Been catching up on Atop the Fourth Wall episodes since MAGFest. And I love it when Lewis plays evil, even though it’s also terrifying. And then … this happened. Because Linksano is far too easy to dump all the angst onto. Where did this come from, I have no idea.

“Oh, Linksaaaaaano,” Holokara trills.

Linksano freezes. Things have been rather tense around the house for the past couple of weeks. Linkara left without saying goodbye, and for a while at least they could pretend that Holokara was Linkara and get by that way. Then … then Holokara began acting strangely. He’s frightening them all, and they can’t get in contact with Linkara.

“Ah, there you are.”

Linksano looks up. He’s been working on a transmitter to try and contact Linkara.

“Now, why don’t you put that down and come over here?” Holokara asks.

“You can’t touch me,” Linksano says, but the look in Holokara’s eyes is making him nervous. He clings to his precious, constant companion, Science, for comfort. “You’re just light and sound, nothing more. You can’t touch me.”

“Oh, can’t I?” Holokara reaches out, quickly, hand ghosting over Linksano’s arm … and then just barely below the surface of his skin.

It feels like nothing Linksano has ever experienced before. Not quite a tickle, not quite a stroke … something warm and, perhaps, not altogether unpleasant … were it anyone but Holokara doing it to him, with that fiendish look in his eye.

“Stop it.” Linksano says, pulling away. He stands up and takes a step backwards.

Holokara follows him. Linksano’s back hits the wall. Holokara steps a millimeter closer than close and delves past Linksano’s clothes and chest and even parts of his legs, pushing, smirking as Linksano squirms against the pressure.

“What do you –”

Holokara holds up a finger, stopping Linksano mid-sentence. His finger hovers in front of Linksano’s goggles, slowly moves closer and closer until his fingernail is grazing through Linksano’s eyeball.

Linksano knows what Holokara did to 90’s Kid, reached in and squeezed his heart until the boy fell on the floor in a heap. He knows what the hologram did to Finevoice, reaches over and squeezed the man’s throat so he was hoarse for a full day.

What could he do to an eyeball? Pop it like a grape, at the very least.

“Please …” Linksano whispers.

“Now, see, that’s more like it,” Holokara smiles sweetly, looks like Linkara but he’s not Linkara. “I just want a little more politeness around here. Manners. Obedience.”

Linksano thinks of Vyce, conquering every world and crushing them into submission, making Linksano kneel at his feet and kiss his boots. He thinks of Mechakara standing over him in the night on Vyce’s ship, calling him “pathetic meat-sack” and climbing into his bed and taking. He thinks of the utter violation of the Entity, that cold presence consuming him utterly and leaving behind nothing but a few fragments of atoms, to be slurped up as an afterthought.

Linksano has experienced worse than a manifestation of light and sound.

“He may not notice it, but I do. I’m more like his subconscious sometimes. He doesn’t realize, but I know you stare at him when no one else can see. I know what you do up on Comicron-1, when you’re all alone, looking at pictures of him –”
“Stop!” Linksano yelps. “Stop it!”

Holokara grins, showing all of his teeth, his illusions of teeth.
Then, suddenly, he reaches down and slides his hand through Linksano’s pants, brushing past his first layer of skin, groping, stroking …

It’s wrong. It’s invasive and even a little painful when he twists his hand.

“He won’t give you what you want. He hasn’t even noticed this … thing, you’ve got going on. He’ll never touch you like you want him to.”

“Please …” Linksano whimpers, knees buckling. “Please … I’ll …”

“But I can,” Holokara squeezes and Linksano starts to slide down the wall and onto the floor, Holokara following him, still grasping past and through his skin. This goes beyond intimacy, beyond the kinds of violation Linksano has experienced before.

“I can give you what you want, Linksano, at least for a little while. All I ask is that you stop trying to contact Linkara. Just say you can’t get the technology working. They’ll believe you, you’re incompetent enough that they’ll believe that you’ve failed.”

Linksano gasps, face flushing, growing hard in spite of himself. This isn’t Linkara, this isn’t Linkara with his hand around Linksano’s dick, jerking him off and smiling …

… but he can pretend it is.

Linksano comes, panting, whimpering, curls up on the floor in shame.

“There’s more where that came from, if you want it. All you have to do is … nothing. Simply … nothing. I think you can manage that, right?” Holokara asks in mock sincerity.

“What if I … keep trying?” Linksano whispers.

Holokara thrusts his hand through Linksano’s pants, pushing and squeezing. It’s pure agony and it’s all Linksano can do not to scream.

“Whether you want it or not, I’ll make you. You can enjoy yourself or scream for all I care, just don’t fix those communicators.”

Linksano nods his head and feels tears bubbling up. He’s so weak, so pathetic, no wonder Linkara has never noticed …

“When he comes home, maybe I’ll tell him,” Holokara laughs, harsh and cruel and not at all like Linkara. “I wonder what he’ll do with you? For all his heroism, he can be a real hypocrite sometimes. Probably exile you. Kick you out of the house.”

But Linksano has imagined far worse fates. He imagines – as he did in the early days, when Linkara made his calm, collected threat of what would happen if he ever betrayed the household – kneeling at Linkara’s feet, the barrel of the magic gun pressed against his forehead; he imagines a barren, distant landscape, an ice planet, with Vyce’s footprints in the snow; he imagines standing in one of Comicron-1’s airlocks, waiting for the door to open up …

Linkara will hate him. Linkara will look at him, not with friendly amusement or mild exasperation, but disgust. Fear. Anger. Or, worst of all, pity.

Holokara leaves, still laughing.

Linksano picks himself up off the ground. He feels raw, his skin is tingling and itchy; he is acutely aware of the blood vessels in those parts of his body that Holokara … touched.

He shudders. A mere shower will not suffice. Mecharakara, Vyce, those men in the third dimension he jumped to … all of them could be removed with a regimen of showers and baths. At least, that’s what he’s always told himself. He had to believe that washing them from his skin was enough, otherwise he couldn’t have continued.

He strips, hands shaking slightly, drops his goggles and climbs into the shower. Shampoo, soap, scrubbing: automatic movements he doesn’t have to think about.

I just want a little more politeness around here. Manners. Obedience.

Linksano chokes back a sob.