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kinkfestTitle: Break Me, Rebuild Me
Author: Lucifer Hisaki (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mercy_slays/luciferhisaki)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 420
Summary: It is the unconscious pull for survival that makes him tug at the chains.
Notes: More of a snippet, rather than a full ficlet but... oh well.
Break Me, Rebuild Me
It is the unconscious pull for survival that makes him tug at the chains. He’s kneeling on the floor, face down, arms stretched toward each wall to his side. The room is empty. Or rather mostly so. There are a few items on the table that is just out of his sight. No one is near him—for the moment—and he is alone. A sense of anticipation makes the chains rattle louder and his breathing though considerably slow is only for show. His heart beats rapidly in his chest. The breathing exercises are useless in calming his vital organ down. It always is.
He doesn’t know when that person would come back and he’s not sure if he wants to. It’s easier to deal with what has happen when he doesn’t know. Ignorance is bliss.
There is hardly any sounds other than his breathing and the blood pounding in his ears. He doesn’t even remember how long he has been in here. There are no windows. No way in telling the time of day or how long exactly he had been here. Days? Weeks? Hours? Who knows.
Maybe when the opening the door behind him was something that should have made him even more anxious, more stressed. It didn’t. He was used to the coming and goings of the man behind him. It was of no surprised when a blindfold covered his eyes. He deserved this. He deserved all of this. He never once asked to be freed.
Especially when the pain struck him like a flog cracking through the air before colliding with his back. He flinched. Once. Twice. Three times. Crack, snap, strike. It doesn’t matter how many times it struck him. Not once had he tried to stop or drag his body away. He never tried to dodge these whippings, beltings, caning. It was never an idea to try and save his body from the mutilation. Not when he knows that it would never be right if he did. Each strike on his back meant retribution, equivalent exchange if you will for each life he had taken with his hands.
Hands that were never touched by this person. He sighs in pain and relief when the flogging pauses.
The edge of the knife is pressed threateningly against his skin. A hiss of anticipation leaves his lips and he knows, that another moment of vengeance through this harbinger has started. It is still young and through it all-
He smiles ruefully, tilting his head back.
“Thank you, Maes.”
End?
I live off your reviews. Really. So please feed me?
Author: Lucifer Hisaki (
mercy_slays/luciferhisaki)Rating: PG
Word Count: 420
Summary: It is the unconscious pull for survival that makes him tug at the chains.
Notes: More of a snippet, rather than a full ficlet but... oh well.
It is the unconscious pull for survival that makes him tug at the chains. He’s kneeling on the floor, face down, arms stretched toward each wall to his side. The room is empty. Or rather mostly so. There are a few items on the table that is just out of his sight. No one is near him—for the moment—and he is alone. A sense of anticipation makes the chains rattle louder and his breathing though considerably slow is only for show. His heart beats rapidly in his chest. The breathing exercises are useless in calming his vital organ down. It always is.
He doesn’t know when that person would come back and he’s not sure if he wants to. It’s easier to deal with what has happen when he doesn’t know. Ignorance is bliss.
There is hardly any sounds other than his breathing and the blood pounding in his ears. He doesn’t even remember how long he has been in here. There are no windows. No way in telling the time of day or how long exactly he had been here. Days? Weeks? Hours? Who knows.
Maybe when the opening the door behind him was something that should have made him even more anxious, more stressed. It didn’t. He was used to the coming and goings of the man behind him. It was of no surprised when a blindfold covered his eyes. He deserved this. He deserved all of this. He never once asked to be freed.
Especially when the pain struck him like a flog cracking through the air before colliding with his back. He flinched. Once. Twice. Three times. Crack, snap, strike. It doesn’t matter how many times it struck him. Not once had he tried to stop or drag his body away. He never tried to dodge these whippings, beltings, caning. It was never an idea to try and save his body from the mutilation. Not when he knows that it would never be right if he did. Each strike on his back meant retribution, equivalent exchange if you will for each life he had taken with his hands.
Hands that were never touched by this person. He sighs in pain and relief when the flogging pauses.
The edge of the knife is pressed threateningly against his skin. A hiss of anticipation leaves his lips and he knows, that another moment of vengeance through this harbinger has started. It is still young and through it all-
He smiles ruefully, tilting his head back.
“Thank you, Maes.”
I live off your reviews. Really. So please feed me?
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Date: 2007-07-21 12:12 am (UTC)Poor Roy, just beats himself up, doesn't he? *pets him* But I love the glimpse of what's going on in his head and the trust he places in Hughes is just wonderful. I'd love to know what is going through Maes' head during this as well. :D
Thank you very much! :D This was very cool.
D