-- Longing --

-- Eloquence Par One Hundred --

Summary: "He didn't want this, couldn't want this, and yet, as their hands ran over him, tangling in his hair, hot mouths and hotter blood, he realized that this was exactly what he had been longing for, his entire life." Incest, yaoi... threesomeness later on. Huzzah.

Ratings and Warnings: T for shonen-ai, language and sexual references. Will definitely go up to M later on.

-- Prologue --

-- In Dreams --

White walls on either side of his shoulders, too close for comfort, squeezing him in. Although Luka wasn't claustrophobic by nature the narrowness of the passageway was beginning to get to him. He had no love of being trapped. And that was exactly what this building was, one big cage, designed especially to keep him in. Clad in the regulation white hospital pajamas, freezing in the unheated December chill, he'd trudged for what seemed like miles through the deserted wards. But it was right there, just in front of his questing, slightly numb fingers: the doorway that would lead him out of this place. It was unremarkable, just a simple metal door with a single glass pane to look out through, no different from the hundred of other doors he'd passed through on his trek, but for one detail -- the glowing, brilliant green EXIT sign above it. He reached out to push it open, to escape his prison. He could see a sun drenched garden outside, so inviting, green and gold. Just another second, and he'd be out there in the sun, free of florescent lights and glaring whiteness, of the scent of disinfectant and endless needles. Of the horror of his aloneness.

But as his pale fingers touched the door, darkness wrapped around him, inky, living shadows, and pulled him back. One foot, two, three, four, his feet skidded on the linoleum floor as he scrabbled at the walls with broken off nails, fighting desperately to get back toward the doorway, his exit to freedom. "Leave me alone!" he screamed, his voice echoing sharply in the narrow hall. "I want out! Go away!"

The shadows changed, turning to slender arms that curled around his small frame, a heated body behind his, a pointed chin, resting on his shoulder. A soft, murmuring voice whispered in his ear, "Leave you alone? Haven't you been alone enough already? Don't you want some company for now?"

Luka tensed, fighting away the feeling of rightness, of tranquility and acceptance that was radiating from the embrace. There was a faint dissonance, a jarred note in the humming song that filled his mind at the other boy's touch, some strange feeling of there being something missing. Luka focused on that, and lunged for the door again. "No,"he snarled breathlessly, in reply to the other's questions. "I'm used to being alone."

There was a soft sigh in his ear, then the murmured retort, "Just because you're used to being alone doesn't mean you like it. That wasn't the question I asked, Luka-kun..."

And then that set of arms, that boy was somehow gone, to be replaced by another who felt exactly the same. Except now arms wound around his waist and chest, not as gentle as before, dragging him back possessively to rest against the others' heart. "Why do you keep struggling?" This voice was also the same, except perhaps colder, a little more cruel. It made Luka shiver, even as he reached for the door again, and was dragged back. "Why? I need to get away." He shivered, abandoning his pride in favor of truth, hoping it might get him somewhere. "Hospitals... I hate hospitals." His whole body tensed, his mind flooded with memories of blood and pain, of the needles (so many needles) and of the relentless beep of machines, counting away seconds of sustained life, of hope. Memories of the sickening drone of a machine that has run out of seconds. The battered body, the limp limbs and closed eyes. Closed eyes, bruised like dropped apples... He shuddered.

And then, Luka felt a sharp pressure on the side of his neck, pulling him from his unhappy remembrance. His back arched at the sudden bolt of pain, a soft moan escaping parted lips. He didn't have to think, didn't have to remember... all he had to do was focus on that sensation... A warm tongue followed the teeth, soothing the abused flesh, making him shiver. There were gentle hands on him, running over his sides and his arms, tracing the patterns of scars through the thin hospital cotton. (Too many hands? Two? But now there were four, two to hold him steady, and two to distract... you don't need to think, not if it's only going to hurt you. Because you are Ours, you are Us, and we look after our own...

A/N: Rather short, but then, it is just the beginning. Please read and review. Lots of emphasis on the "review" part. Please. You will make me very happy.