downvoted | (no subject)

[He hums into Tristan's mouth, self-satisfied like a cat in the cream. He wins this one, of course. And because his brother's being so good he'll let him breathe, taking in air through his nose and letting it out into Tristan's mouth. Of course it's only just enough to keep conscious -- he takes plenty of pause to just kiss him, exploring his mouth with his tongue and making no effort to hide how much enjoys every bit of that misery.

After awhile, when he too is a little dizzy, he pulls back, releasing the spell and the hold on Tristan's jaw to run his hand gently through his hair.]

Good boy.

[Tristan whines into the kiss, sucking in every moment of air he's allowed. Hating himself but pressing his tongue against his brother's willingly after a while, half hoping the indulgence will make Ariel happy enough to give him more air, half just delirious from lack of oxygen. As kisses go it's filled with urgent need, at the very least. Clumsy from dizziness but far from his first kiss.]

[When the kiss is over and he can breathe in truth, he collapses back, vision edged in black as he takes in huge, heaving gasps, a low keening sound of shock, misery, anguish in his throat.]

[He lets him breath for a bit, keeping his grip on his wrist the whole time. His free hand reaches to wipe away the tears on Tristan's face, and he smiles the same pleasant smile he's always shown him, even as he moves to rest his weight on a knee between his legs.]

That's right. Let it sink in. You're mine, only mine, however I want you. I'll never let you forget it.

[The new position makes Tristan look up, horrified at the direction this is going. Has been going. He's too messed up to try telling himself maybe it'll stop with this, that maybe Ariel's made his point. He's just trying to brace himself, catching his breath in a painful hiccup between tears and gasping.]

Ariel you're my brother.

[For all his self inflicted denial Tristan isn't stupid, he's scared. He's too scared to tell Ariel to stop.]

This isn't something brothers do.

There's those poor listening skills again.

[He might have stopped. He's not terribly invested in taking it further, and he doesn't have enough experience in this field to jump right to it. But Tristan's arguing with him again, and that's enough to spur him on. He won't stop until his position is entirely secured, and for now that means pressing his knee firmly against Tristan's groin and sliding his hand up under his shirt.]

I told you, I'm your Master first. I don't care about something as worthless as a "brotherly relationship". Our shared blood is only the proof that you're worthy to be mine.

[Well that didn't work out. He leans back in the chair, as if that tiny amount of retreat will help him escape this.]

It's not worthless Ariel, it's what we are. The master thing, that's what we're acting. That's what isn't real.

Ah-ah.

[He lets go of his wrist, to place that hand over Tristan's mouth.]

Your opinion is also worthless. A possession shouldn't talk back.

[His hand flattens against Tristan's stomach, lying still for a moment before slowly lifting, just a bit. When it does, there's a soft glow -- and bright, shining "needles" appear to jab deep into him, easily a dozen or more. They should feel like they're burning hot, and Ariel's made no effort (or perhaps doesn't yet have the skill) to keep them from hitting important places.]

[Tristan screams, muffled by Ariel's palm. Fresh tears falling over his face and Ariel's fingers as he tries to scramble back in the chair. But there's nowhere to go. He won't lash out at Ariel (because he doesn't want to hit his brother or because he knows what happens when you fight back? that they hit you harder?). Nowhere to go leaves him completely trapped and sobbing, trying to do so quietly, to breathe shallowly, because every breath shifts the burning needles in his flesh and he can feel things tearing open. It hurts and it's terrifying, it's not just flesh but vital organs, a new experience in terror and realizing he could die. He could die.]

[He could undo this spell too, he could fix this. A small voice in the back of his head notes that it would be easy. Except he can't do anything of the sort, not any more.]

It would take a long time for that to kill you, just so you know. They're only needles. All those little holes... You'd suffer for hours.

[It's said cheerfully, while he places a fingertip on the protruding end of one needle and wiggles it around. Really, Tristan's face is definitely cutest like this.]

Or you can ask me nicely to take them out, as your Master. Will you do that, or should I keep your mouth shut?

[He knows. It could be days, even, before this killed him. At the most. His blood would drag toxins from his intestines through the rest of him, the bleeding in his organs would damage them, his body would shut down in agony he probably can't imagine and his brother wiggling the needle hurts enough right now.]

[He could let this get worse, he could protest and what? It wouldn't do any good. Ariel is right--if Ariel wants to do something there's nothing Tristan can do to stop it. He feels sick, and he nods miserably.]

Edited 2014-07-31 10:33 (UTC)

[He lifts his hand from his mouth as soon as he nods, smiling cheerfully and waiting. It's kind of nice that Tristan didn't give in all at once. It means Ariel gets to watch him cave piece by piece.]

Go on then.

[He should call him master or something, appeal to that, but he can't. He barely manages a choked please. He feels filthy for playing along with this, humiliated. He thought he'd gotten used to how humiliation felt but this is a different level, begging his own brother.]

Please... Take them out.

[The great thing about needles is he can just put his fingers on several of them at once and move them and it takes no effort at all.]

Hmmm... I don't know, I think I'd like to hear your voice like this a little more. Tell me, what were you to me again?

[He makes a high pitched whine, gasping and going silent a moment in pain. But he meets his brothers eyes again, voice desperate. Don't do this don't make him do this.]

Ariel please.

[He knows exactly what he's doing, of course. Pushing him right up against his previous trauma is cruel, but if he won't otherwise listen, why not? And of course that face and that voice are more than reward enough.]

Please what? You haven't done what I told you, so maybe you're asking for more?

[Tristan exhales slightly, a soft, shivery breath as he closes his eyes, tears leaking out into his hair.]

Please don't do this. You're my brother.

[He's clinging to that desperately.]

Oh, so you were.

[He lifts his fingers from the needles he's touching, but that's only to add another round. He has no intention of pulling back until he's gotten exactly what he wants.]

[He makes a ragged noise, too pained and soft and miserable to be a scream.]

[It's not going to stop. Not until he gives his brother what he wants. He closes his eyes and turns his face away and down, hating himself for being weak. For being helpless. Feeling guilty and gross for giving in so easily. His voice rough and uneven around tears and pain and humiliation.]

Master. You're my master. I'm beneath you. I'm... Yours. Please take them out.

Mm, Much better.

[That feels good to hear. In that tone, when Tristan is so clearly crumbling, it's almost euphoric. Ariel dispels the needles, replacing the burning pain with the gentle warmth of a healing. But it's only a few moments' gentleness before he steps back, yanking on Tristan's broken wrist to pull him up out of the chair and back towards his room.]

[It's a relief. An all too brief relief. He's not even surprised now when Ariel takes his wrist and yanks on it, gasping sharply and unable to help a yelp of pain but getting out of the chair and following obediently. Even if he pulled back, and he has the strength to, what would that do?]

[It would do nothing, of course. Ariel gets what he wants, by whatever means necessary. Right now what he wants is more than obvious, but he expects no resistance when he shoves Tristan onto his bed and follows him. He wants it to be here, in the space he spent time with that girl. He doesn't know for sure how far they'd gone, but he's going to sully any pleasant memory nonetheless, covering up her sweetness with his own possessive darkness.]

[He doesn't resist, the hair clasp finally falling from his fingers onto the floor with a clatter as he's pushed back onto his own bed, looking up at his brother in numb horror. Ariel's so small. Tristan himself might have a year or two of growth left but most of it is done, he's filled out, he's a young man, well built and handsome. But his brother? Ariel still looks tiny and delicate, short. He's got so many more growth spurts to go through, he looks frail. Tristan's not exceptionally strong but he's not weak at all, and he could easily carry or hurt Ariel.]

[It's so surreal.]

[It's easier to think of that than the hours, the nights spent in this room on this bed with June in his arms. The way she laughed. The way she smelled. The noises she made right in his ear when he did something right. The softness of her skin.]

[Ariel is small, all thin arms and legs that haven't lost quite all of their childish softness just yet. He's got a long way to go yet in growing up, but he's old enough to have matured in a lot of ways, and he's always been too far from innocent -- an intelligent and arrogant child with interests not even an adult could justify.

But now he's a teenager, and aware of the world at large, and apparently aware of the world right at home, too. There's no hesitation in straddling Tristan's hips, shoving his shirt up and leaning down to kiss his throat. There's a good deal of his life since the revolution he's hidden, especially recently, but it's about time his big brother got used to what kind of person he's really living with.]

[Tristan presses his hand to his face, breathing shallowly, still in pain from his broken wrist, eyes leaking a little again at Ariel's all-too-sure actions. This is horrifying. His brother is really fucked up. Where did he learn to do this anyway? He can't even fathom what's going on in Ariel's head.]

[He tries to take a steadying breath, pitches his voice quiet and obedient as possible. Pleading.]

Ariel please, please don't. Do you want me to beg again? I will.

You can beg if you want to. It sounds nice.

[But he doesn't want to stop, so he won't. There's a certain lack of experience in his movements, skill he hasn't built up yet, but no lack of confidence, and he's steady and self-assured when he slides Tristan's shirt off. He presses his face against his shoulder, breathing in the scent of his skin and trailing his lips to his collarbone, where he bites down, hard.]

Edited 2014-07-31 12:53 (UTC)