Wizards and potions and drugs, oh my!

[Amory Nova]

It didn't matter what Scy said, Amory was consumed with the idea of making him pay for luring Amory in and making him feel something for him... only to walk out on him. Or try to, anyway. Nobody was walking out on Amory Nova as long as he was still the one with the power and between the two of them, he knew he was the one that held all the power. He'd known it for a while.

What he didn't like was the fact that Scy brought up some other name. Ember, was it? Amory narrowed his eyes and then crawled atop Scy, pinning him to the bed with his thighs. One hand held an arm down but the other went to Scy's chin so that he could force Scy's face to look up at him. Hard to really force that, given how Scy's gaze seemed to be in focus and then out of it. That was the problem with being drugged.

"Forget about him," Amory commanded. "There's no... Ember. Just Amory."

[Scyon Kan]

"No... Ember... no..." Scy groaned, the noise half tortured and half pleasured as the drug began to take complete control over his thoughts. He could barely hold on to the thought of Ember, much less what the name meant to him and what it represented—safety, love, acceptance and openness, all of which he once believed that he had with Amory, only to have the trust between them abruptly dissolve. Part of that was Scy's fault—the part where he slept with Ember, shamelessly grasping at the remnants of his first love. But this...

This wasn't his fault. He didn't want the prystal and he didn't want the way that it robbed him of his freedom. Scy's fingers clenched and unclenched as he tried with all his might and main to fight it. He even half-bucked to the side to dislodge Amory, though how much good that did him was debatable. As his chin was taken and his head forced up, he blinked owlishly and sluggishly.

"No..." Amory dominated his vision now. Was he happy? Triumphant? Scy's brows furrowed as Amory came into and out of focus. "I..." His lips mouthed Ember's name but the word wouldn't come out. He tried again, mouthing the syllables, and then the world melted all around him. Scy said something nonsensical as his struggles gradually stopped. He laid there, riding on the sensations of the golden high, and as the pure happiness swept him up in its embrace, he let out a giddy little laugh.

[Amory Nova]

"Stop. Saying. His. Name."

Who the fuck was this Ember, anyway? Amory was going to have his goons on it the moment he was finished with Scy. For certain, he'd find a way to get back at the rat. Was he the one that alerted Scy to him? Didn't matter; by being close to Scy, he was already dragged into the net.

Really, Scy was lucky that Amory administered the prystal first. It made things much easier on him. On Scy, of course. Maybe for Amory, too, but Amory didn't want it easy. For now, however, he used it to his advantage. He used the prystal to take what he wanted from Scy, knowing full well the entire time that it wasn't what Scy wanted. That made it a bitter act, fucking him. Amory normally took pleasure in it, but it was always too soft, too gentle. Now he took what he wanted precisely as he wanted. Scy wasn't giving him what he wanted but Amory could finally show him what he wanted.

By the time he was finished with him, Amory's anger had been mostly abated. Scy was marked, his throat ringed in red marks and bruises. His body was covered in them. Bruises. Marks. Magic brands. This spot was his and that was his and so was this. He made it all too obvious. Even when Scy recovered and left, he would bring all this back to his precious Ember and if knew what was good for him, he'd let Scy go.

Amory's burning gaze remained hard on Scy for a long time afterward. The prystal had taken him in its arms and he was asleep for now. Likely exhausted from what he'd gone through. He wasn't smiling anymore, though. There was a slight crease in his brow, as if whatever he dreamed of wasn't pleasant. Amory traced the crease with his fingertip until it disappeared. Then he rolled out of bed and slipped his clothes on. Let him think when he woke that he had his chance. Amory wasn't going to be here to watch him go. But he would be elsewhere and he would have eyes on him.

[Scyon Kan]

Scy couldn't say when the dizzying high and the pleasurable dream became a stark nightmare. He was dimly aware of clothes being stripped, of a hard grip on his wrists, of teeth on his throat, but he could no more fight back than he could pull the Prystal from his veins. Something else was happening too, on his skin, like a hot brand being pressed against his most vulnerable spots and he didn't so much feel it with his body as he did with his soul.

He couldn't describe it, but he felt it acutely—and even that wasn't enough to pull him out of his Prystal-induced state.

When it was all over, Scy fell into an uneasy sleep, punctuated by horrid shapes and flashing, dazzling colors behind closed eyelids. His eyes moved restlessly behind their lids too, as he drew erratic breath, and it was a long, long while before he even began to gather consciousness. Even then, he dozed fitfully. Each shift brought new pain and when he finally did wake, it felt as though his entire body was on fire.

It was dark out now; the room was plunged into terrifying shadows. Shivering, Scy rolled onto his side and coughed and the motions jarred his aching body. He let out an involuntary sound of pain and doubled over. Clarity returned by degrees and with it, memories. Everything that happened while he was under the influence of that devilish drug was blurred but he remembered the way that he felt. The revulsion and the horror. The violation.

He remembered enough to spur him into action, to roll violently out of bed and stagger to the door, despite the sharp pain between his legs.