Pounding
Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine as everyone knows by now. Death fic of sorts. Gore and intended rape.
The slow slick slide of scales across tile… It echoes across my mind. Reverberating maddeningly.
I moan softly, or perhaps that was from Winner as our captors force bamboo splinters under his fingernails.
We'd been shot down over a terrorist region in the Asias. Our pilot and co-pilot didn't make it, and by some twisted cosmic joke, Winner managed to survive with minor to moderate injuries. As for myself, that is uncertain. Since I've woken, there's been a steady plopping of my blood into a pool of coagulating hemoglobin below my feet.
Claws click heavily along the floor. A distinct reptilian smell fills the air, gagging me.
Through the mere slit in my swollen eye, I can see Winner hanging helplessly and quietly. I vaguely wonder if he smells it too.
They're coming back. I can hear the clonk of their boots over the din of scales and claws. I try to open my mouth to warn Winner only to come to the realization that my jaw is broken.
It looks as if my warning wasn't needed as I watch Winner's muscles tighten and his senses become alert.
Our captors arrive, chuckling over a joke as if torturing humans was an everyday occurrence. There is an air about them that is even more malevolent than before. Something evil smothering us. They jostled each other with their elbows and one made his way to Winner.
The atmosphere seemed to swell, pulsing and pounding… eating the oxygen from my lungs.
I tried to focus on what they were doing, but a coldness had settled in my limbs and was stretching towards my core and what little vision I had was darkening.
The sound of the blond Arabian's pants hitting the floor with the clang of his belt buckle broke through the chill slightly. Just enough to make me aware of my own pants loosening and hot hands stroking my buttocks.
The room heated intolerably, my flesh felt like it was melting in an inferno of sulfur.
The noises were upon us, yet the sound didn't even invoke a response from the bastards retaining us. I couldn't breathe. Hands were spreading my legs and something was nudging an exit only. The world went black for me.
When reality edged into my consciousness, screams were still bouncing along the stone walls. Winner was cowering in his shackles, eyes wide, mouth open.
The once grey, dingy walls were splattered in red and gray. Blood and gore were slowly sliding to clump on the floor.
Something squished under my hand and I shook it. More gore splattered about but didn't even register as I saw claws instead of fingers.
I shifted to ask Winner what the hell was going on, only to be distracted by large cramped wings smacking against the walls and a tail sliding through the muck.
The Arabian managed to back away another inch, wrists bleeding from the cuffs cutting into his flesh. The length of his shirt was the only thing giving him any decency as his pants were still pooled around his feet. He calmed only slightly when he realized I wasn't about to harm him, "You died! We saw you die! They didn't care! Then… Then you screamed. So loudly… like a wounded animal… You killed them… You didn't just kill them… You… You…."
Winner, swallowed dryly, face marred with disgusting filth, "Wu… Wu Fei… You're… You're a dragon!"