Silent
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a.n.: another random blip I wrote. ramses/ulysses. this is what comes pouring out after a bout of frustration for me... probably sucks. but I was feelin' angsty.
[]
Steel against skin. It wasn't supposed to be so. And the blood that went with it... Definitely not. The smirk on his face was seductive, but it wasn't needed. His eyes were frightfully menacing, cutting through his barriers and masks like a hot knife through butter. Those weren't his eyes. They were the eyes of a posessed mad-man...
He found himself staring into those eyes. Those eyes he had time after time complained about being too dull, too simple. He had liked those eyes, though. They were kind, laughing. Not ice. They hadn't scared him out of his wits, nor threatened punishments.
But he didn't speak any of this. Ramses wanted to hear him scream for mercy, but he wouldn't grant him that little honor. He was silent, quiet, even as hot sweat slid into open cuts, burning them beyond belief. All that ever escaped were soft, near-to silent gasps.
Though he was silent, tears ran down his flushed cheeks, scalding the slashes there. Ramses would lick those up, with his blood, and kiss him brutally, forcing him to taste the disgusting mixture. Though he was sick of it, it became something he waited for -- not necessarily looked forward to, but expected. Ramses was meticulous, he never forgot to do this.
And despite all this damned torture Ramses put him through, he still found himself... caring. Caring for this beast he had become. He knew caring would be the end of him. Ramses himself had told him that. But Ramses was demented. He didn't know what he felt for him.
How nobody else knew surprised him. Iris and Catastrophe supposedly knew everything... How they didn't know of this twisted 'relationship' between he and Ramses...... Or, perhaps they did know. They just didn't want to get in his way... Because he wanted to do this. He didn't want others to be hurt on a stupid mistake he had made. He would clear it up himself.
And if they didn't know, they would never know. For he was silent.
He appeared fine on the outside. Nobody knew of the inner turmoil inside, for his outward appearance was happy, carefree. A mask. Another thing he had picked up once this torture had started. Masks were valuable in life, he had mused once. You needn't burden others with your own stupid problems. Ramses wore masks as well. The other gods couldn't tell he was a toturer, a rapist, a possessed lunatic. He was just a slightly odder-than-normal Venus god. Nothing out of extremes of ordinary.
"Why don't you scream?"
He raised his eyes slowly to that of his torturer's, blinking slowly even in his intense pain, appearing to be bored. Ramses leaned down, and bit him roughly on the neck. No change of expression.
"I see no reason to pleasure you further." He said softly, evenly. Ramses slapped him. Nothing, except for possibly further disinterest.
The blonde glared at him, daring him to do anything. He took the hint, snaking a hand up to cup his captor's cheek. Fresh tears spilled down his face, running new routes through dried ones.
"I just wish you would..." He murmured, his voice cracking. He dropped his hand and looked away. No, he was silent. He didn't need to speak further. Much to his surprise, Ramses left him. But not before staring at him. And out of the corner of his eye, he watched back. For a full minute he could have sworn the same soft, caring eyes he used to know... returned. For a minute. Then they hardened again, and Ramses pivoted swiftly, walking away.
As he sat up and gathered his clothes around him, he drank the healing potion Ramses forced him to take, so that his body would renew itself and he could ransack it all over again. It occured to him then that he hadn't been kissed with that vile mixture of blood and sweat. The same day the eyes of the past had returned... Was his world somehow turning?
No. It wasn't.
He didn't bother mentioning this to Ramses the next time he was slashed and taken against his will. He never did. Because he was silent.
E n d
[]
bleh, that sucked. _ poor ulysses... I'm expecting flames. why? I'm the only person you people know who abuses summons, yes?
who gives a damn, though.
- my pain is your pleasure -
[]
a.n.: another random blip I wrote. ramses/ulysses. this is what comes pouring out after a bout of frustration for me... probably sucks. but I was feelin' angsty.
[]
Steel against skin. It wasn't supposed to be so. And the blood that went with it... Definitely not. The smirk on his face was seductive, but it wasn't needed. His eyes were frightfully menacing, cutting through his barriers and masks like a hot knife through butter. Those weren't his eyes. They were the eyes of a posessed mad-man...
He found himself staring into those eyes. Those eyes he had time after time complained about being too dull, too simple. He had liked those eyes, though. They were kind, laughing. Not ice. They hadn't scared him out of his wits, nor threatened punishments.
But he didn't speak any of this. Ramses wanted to hear him scream for mercy, but he wouldn't grant him that little honor. He was silent, quiet, even as hot sweat slid into open cuts, burning them beyond belief. All that ever escaped were soft, near-to silent gasps.
Though he was silent, tears ran down his flushed cheeks, scalding the slashes there. Ramses would lick those up, with his blood, and kiss him brutally, forcing him to taste the disgusting mixture. Though he was sick of it, it became something he waited for -- not necessarily looked forward to, but expected. Ramses was meticulous, he never forgot to do this.
And despite all this damned torture Ramses put him through, he still found himself... caring. Caring for this beast he had become. He knew caring would be the end of him. Ramses himself had told him that. But Ramses was demented. He didn't know what he felt for him.
How nobody else knew surprised him. Iris and Catastrophe supposedly knew everything... How they didn't know of this twisted 'relationship' between he and Ramses...... Or, perhaps they did know. They just didn't want to get in his way... Because he wanted to do this. He didn't want others to be hurt on a stupid mistake he had made. He would clear it up himself.
And if they didn't know, they would never know. For he was silent.
He appeared fine on the outside. Nobody knew of the inner turmoil inside, for his outward appearance was happy, carefree. A mask. Another thing he had picked up once this torture had started. Masks were valuable in life, he had mused once. You needn't burden others with your own stupid problems. Ramses wore masks as well. The other gods couldn't tell he was a toturer, a rapist, a possessed lunatic. He was just a slightly odder-than-normal Venus god. Nothing out of extremes of ordinary.
"Why don't you scream?"
He raised his eyes slowly to that of his torturer's, blinking slowly even in his intense pain, appearing to be bored. Ramses leaned down, and bit him roughly on the neck. No change of expression.
"I see no reason to pleasure you further." He said softly, evenly. Ramses slapped him. Nothing, except for possibly further disinterest.
The blonde glared at him, daring him to do anything. He took the hint, snaking a hand up to cup his captor's cheek. Fresh tears spilled down his face, running new routes through dried ones.
"I just wish you would..." He murmured, his voice cracking. He dropped his hand and looked away. No, he was silent. He didn't need to speak further. Much to his surprise, Ramses left him. But not before staring at him. And out of the corner of his eye, he watched back. For a full minute he could have sworn the same soft, caring eyes he used to know... returned. For a minute. Then they hardened again, and Ramses pivoted swiftly, walking away.
As he sat up and gathered his clothes around him, he drank the healing potion Ramses forced him to take, so that his body would renew itself and he could ransack it all over again. It occured to him then that he hadn't been kissed with that vile mixture of blood and sweat. The same day the eyes of the past had returned... Was his world somehow turning?
No. It wasn't.
He didn't bother mentioning this to Ramses the next time he was slashed and taken against his will. He never did. Because he was silent.
E n d
[]
bleh, that sucked. _ poor ulysses... I'm expecting flames. why? I'm the only person you people know who abuses summons, yes?
who gives a damn, though.
- my pain is your pleasure -