"HABIT, fucking let me go!"

Most of the words Noah spat at HABIT over the past few hours were in the same kind of vein; the name, the profanity, and the plea to have the ropes and chains binding him to the chair removed so that he could get up. But HABIT lounged in the corner of the attic, smiling lazily as he sharpened a particularly magnificent machete.

"Can't do that," said HABIT for the hundredth time that evening. His patience was phenomenally stretched, Noah knew, but right now he had a more urgent matter to attend to and didn't care how pissed off HABIT could get.

Noah cursed under his breath and shifted in his seat. Firebrand contacted HABIT sometime in the afternoon and instructed him to keep Noah safe for an undetermined period of time, as far as he could glean from him. So HABIT, in his typical fashion, busted down his bedroom door, grabbed him, slung him over his shoulder and transported them to the attic of what was presumably the EverymanHYBRID crew's house. Evan's house. Noah shuddered.

But that wasn't the problem right now. If anything, it would be better not to think of the thing in front of him as Evan, but as HABIT. In a surprising gesture of what would be perceived as kindness by others, but what Noah knew was just a precautionary method to ensure he didn't actually die of dehydration whilst being protected, HABIT kept on giving him food and drinks. The food was just meagre slices of bread coated in something that Noah could only hope was jam. But the water…

It took him a while to admit it to himself. Noah needed to pee. But he wasn't going to let HABIT, of all people, know that in a hurry. "For god's sake, can't you just let me stretch my legs? They're dead!" he whined.

HABIT looked up from his machete-sharpening. His eyes betrayed nothing but blackness. "You could also be dead. But I'm doing your burnt-ass future self a favour and making sure the Stick-In-The-Mud doesn't skewer you like a shish kebab. So how about you shut the fuck up and let me concentrate on this knife, or I'll drive it through your throat!"

That had the appropriate effect, and Noah quietened down. The whining probably wasn't the best game plan he'd ever had.

It wasn't for another torturous forty-five minutes that he finally decided to say something. The pressure on his bladder was worse, so very much worse. So, he decided to try a different tactic.

"Uh, hey, HABIT…could you let me up?"

It made Noah grit his teeth how strained his voice came out. HABIT must have noticed, because he actually put down the whetstone he was using to sharpen his knife. "Lost your spunk already, bitch?" HABIT laughed. He pushed himself up and took a languishing stroll over to Noah's chair.

Noah looked him straight in the face, determined not to show weakness, but he could feel his swollen bladder all too painfully in his current bare position. Rope restraints doubled up with metal cuffs kept his legs drawn apart, and if he closed his knees, he would betray himself to HABIT. Instead, Noah pressed his nails into his palms behind his back, where his wrists were bound, the pain helping him focus on something other than the ever pressing need to pee. "No," he spat. "Just sick of having to look at your fucking face."

The slap came so fast that Noah barely registered it happening until his face started screaming with red-hot pain. In that moment, his entire body jerked, and he so very nearly lost control of his bladder. But he still held out – he wasn't that desperate yet.

HABIT bent down low and pressed his face uncomfortably close to Noah's. "I could rip you apart right now, you little shit," he hissed. "But I'm not going to, because I am, if nothing else, a man of my word." He stood back up and smirked. "That doesn't mean I can't make you hurt first."

Noah heard the words and ordinarily he would have been terrified but damn he had to fucking go.

It would take a couple of minutes and then HABIT could go back to doing whatever the fuck he was doing, and then let him out when he was done, thank-you-very-much-you-psycho-for-not-letting-the-tall-man-get-me. The thing holding Noah back was, hilariously, pride. He wasn't going to admit weakness in front of this sick fuck. Not until it was absolutely necessary.

But even now he was unconsciously bucking his hips slightly upwards, an effort to get something to press down and hold everything back. Still he didn't close his knees, because under HABIT's dead gaze it would be a sure giveaway of his predicament.

HABIT's supposedly dead gaze still picked up enough, though. "Squirmy little fucker, aren't you?" he said, looking at Noah's legs. It turned out that Noah had been jiggling his legs about, trying to distract himself.

Then, as if alerted by this squirminess, HABIT turned on his heel and went to retrieve the water bottle he'd been giving Noah for the past few hours. He unscrewed the cap and said. "Time for you to drink up. Kinda funny when you think about your closest friend, Mr Crispy, isn't it?" And he laughed that laugh that was so decadent and hollow that Noah's toes actually curled in their sneakers.

HABIT had been feeding Noah the bottle like a mother would its baby, if the mother were a violent sadist with a penchant for choking people. Each time he would make Noah gulp down the entire bottle, splashing some on his face and shirt in a display that Noah expected was supposed to demean him, and then just refill it to the brim from a water cooler stationed in the corner of the attic. HABIT would force back his neck and shove the damn thing almost fully to the back of his throat, almost choking Noah with the one thing that would keep him alive. But this time, he couldn't drink anymore, he would fucking explode.

And so when HABIT advanced on Noah this time round, the taller man cried out, "No!" and tried his very hardest to thrust the chair back away from HABIT. This resulted in the chair toppling over backwards and smashing to the floor. Noah's back connected with the floor, and his bladder jolted painfully. He let out a loud groan, finally no longer resisting the urge to sandwich his legs together as much as he could.

"Now, now," said HABIT playfully, "Baby's gotta drink up to keep Mama Firebrand happy." He stood over Noah, planting one leg on either side, and bent down low. "You aren't going to die of your own stupidity today, Noah. One day, yeah, probably, but today you're going to drink this and keep damn quiet about it."

In a last defiant move Noah pressed his lips tightly together and turned his head away as much as he could.

Noah let out a gasp when HABIT dropped down onto his knees next to him and yanked his hair, hard. Fuck, that felt…good. He bit back what he knew from previous experiences would have been a whimper and glared at HABIT, whose face was nothing but a mask of confusion.

"The hell is wrong with you?" HABIT said. "I could just let you rot here, and now you're doing shit like this?"

Noah looked away from HABIT and decided he might as well just suffer the humiliation and taunting that would inevitably come his way, as long as he got to a bathroom. Unfortunately, he seemingly took too long in answering as HABIT grabbed his hair and yanked again, this time holding it so that Noah's scalp actually touched the floor.

"I need to fucking piss, all right?!" Noah yelled. Christ, the pain was getting even worse – he could actually feel all of that damn liquid sloshing about inside of him. Why was it hurting so much? Oh, fuck – he was getting hard. Fucking HABIT and his hair-pulling. That would make things infinitely more difficult.

HABIT blinked at Noah, momentarily lost for words, and then smiled that infamous shark-toothed grin. "Well damn, why didn't you just say so?" He dropped the water bottle, hefted Noah and his chair back up into a sitting position and chuckled. "When you gotta go, you gotta go."

Noah could've cried with relief. He closed his eyes briefly and let out a breathy, "Thank you."

Then he felt the palm on his crotch.

His eyes shot open to find HABIT palming him through his jeans, taking advantage of Noah's vulnerability. Noah's breath hitched and he let out an indignant squeak of, "What the FUCK are you doing?"

HABIT smiled up at Noah from his kneeling position. "Getting you all worked up, babe," he said in a clear mockery of a sultry tone.

"GET OFF ME!"

"But you seemed to be enjoying it soooo much," HABIT lisped, clearly enjoying the way Noah's face was flushing red.

Noah squirmed beneath HABIT's touch, knowing that this was so very very wrong, that HABIT had killed people with this same hand alone – and yet it felt so damn good…

Noah eventually came round when a spasm went through his bladder, and he bucked his hips helplessly up into HABIT's palm. "HABIT," he rasped, "stop fucking doing this, please, I need to piss and I can't if you…"

"If I do the barest minimum to get you hard, Noah?" HABIT laughed. "Damn, I think you've got a thing for humiliation. Look at this, all I'm doing is rubbing you and you're about ready to cum!"

Noah felt his entire face warm. He tried to look anywhere that wasn't at HABIT.

"Oh my God, youdo get off on this shit!" HABIT cried with glee. "Oh man, that's so dirty, fuck. You are sick, Maxwell, you are so very sick."

"I don't get off from being desperate to pee!" Noah hollered. "You just…the hair…fuck…" He tapered off. There was no way HABIT was buying his bullshit, not a chance in hell. Even if HABIT hadn't been so adept at lying himself, the sick enjoyment should appeal to him somehow. Feeling so full, feeling so fucking desperate to release…it was kind of like edging, something Noah had done on many a bored and horny night. He had done the whole thing, looked up a few videos with shitty actors, read some bad writing, and got off to it anyway. But actually doing this was another thing.

HABIT laughed mercilessly. "Yeah, sure you don't. Noah, I've been alive long enough to know when a bitch is lying."

And then HABIT pressed both of his hands, hard, down onto Noah's midriff.

The noise that escaped Noah's mouth was such a terribly embarrassing sound that he would've covered his mouth afterwards if he had been able to. He moaned loudly, feeling the pressure more intensely than ever before, but he was too fucking hard, and HABIT had moved one hand back down to his cock and he was caressing it and oh-

Fuck.

Noah cried out as he spurted helplessly into his underwear. He couldn't tell if it had left a wet spot or not on his jeans, but the sudden still of HABIT's hands and the absolutely delighted look he shot Noah told him that he was in danger of fully wetting himself.

"Why are you doing this?" Noah practically mewled. His face was on fire; this was so fucking humiliating, just knowing that he was inches away from having a accident right in this chair while HABIT watched. He writhed desperately, with one of HABIT's hands working his cock through the already-damp fabric of his jeans, and the other pressing further and further down-

HABIT relinquished his grip and smirked once more at the squirming man. Then he slowly sauntered behind Noah and let his arms rest over the front, hands interlocking on the slice of neck exposed by Noah's shirt. "Because you, Noah, are the only one I haven't totally broken yet," said HABIT simply. "I've had them all, and I've fucked them beyond belief – sometimes literally. Jeff was the easiest – he came apart like a broken toy. Evan was a lot more resilient – he fought me right up until I took over his body. And Vinny…well." Noah could almost feel the sneer. "When coerced, Vinny will do the most unbelievable shit."

Then the knife was at Noah's throat and just the barest minimum brushed the sensitive flesh. "You, on the other hand, are a piece of work," HABIT growled. "I can't kill you, and you don't break under fear. I can't scare you, but I can humiliate you."

Noah wished he could squirm but the knife made it so all he could do was hold his legs together and hope for the best, but his cock was so rigid that even the piss built up right at the tip couldn't come out. It was hellish, and Noah's breathing came out in short, hot pants. "Y-you'll never break me," Noah breathed, not daring to even move his lips too much in case an involuntary muscle movement sliced open his throat.

"Is that so?" Before Noah could even flinch the knife was flung into a far corner of the attic and HABIT bit down, hard, onto Noah's shoulder, breaking the skin. A rivulet of blood trickled down the back of Noah's neck, and he groaned, so aroused that it hurt to even breathe. But HABIT didn't stop there, and went straight for Noah's neck, sucking a hickey there so deep that the resulting bruise resembled a strangle-mark.

Little droplets of urine collected at the head of Noah's cock, and noises were not so much coming individually from him than they were rolling off his tongue in one seamless stream of sound. HABIT continued to assault his neck, continually licking and sucking and biting, alternating between the three in a motion so practiced that it set Noah's skin aflame. Still little dribbles continued to trickle into his underwear. The need to cum was neck and neck with the need to piss – he was desperate in every sense of the word, a squirming hot mess of a man completely at the mercy of the demon at his throat.

"H-HABIT…!" The word was pushed from between trembling lips.

There was a pause. A hideously, dangerously long pause.

And that's when HABIT chose to stride back around the front of the chair, settle into Noah's lap, and grind.

"Oh FUCK!" Noah yelled. The sensation of HABIT grinding down onto him, on top of all of that liquid just bursting to be out, was almost too much. He was getting close, and it hurt. Every single synapse came alive when HABIT leant down close to Noah's ear and bit down on it with a tenderness that Noah never knew HABIT could show. It would later occur to him that Firebrand would be angry if HABIT bit off his ear. Regardless, HABIT's tongue started a swirling lap of Noah's earlobe, and it was all Noah could do not to just melt into a sobbing, shaking puddle there and then. If the agony from his bladder and dick told him anything, the puddle part was not far off.

"You like that, don't you, you dirty little whore?" HABIT hissed into Noah's ear, warm breath sending quakes along every fibre in his body. Noah gritted his teeth and held fast to the chair, his cock leaking so much precum into his jeans it would hardly make a difference if he did piss himself right there and then.

And then HABIT picked up the knife and held it up against Noah's throat once more. "Say it."

"I-I like it," Noah gasped.

HABIT let loose a low growl in his throat and rolled his hips forcefully down onto Noah's groin. "Say it. Better."

"I like it, for fuck's sake, I like this, I like being fucking degraded and humiliated by you! I like the biting and the grinding and even the fucking knife, and I want you to make me piss myself!" It all came out in a glowering, livid rush that left Noah red in the face and gasping.

The tension in the room became palpable before HABIT let out a howling masquerade of a laugh, and rocked his hips at a speed that made Noah want to pass out. "You are absolute filth," HABIT breathed. "You're a disgusting little man for wanting this – look at how hard you are, how much you love the idea of wetting yourself like a fucking baby. Fuck, if people knew, if your darling little fans online knew that this is how you get your rocks off – being degraded." HABIT had taken himself out of his jeans and jacked himself furiously as he ground down onto Noah. "They wouldn't come within an inch of you. They'd laugh, because they'd see what you are. Nothing but a pathetic little piss-loving slut."

And that was it – Noah was gone, coming so hard he almost blacked out, and HABIT's own come splattered across his face. It took just ten post-orgasmic bliss-filled seconds before the floodgates opened, and HABIT quickly moved off of Noah to watch the spectacle unfold. Noah could do nothing more than tug listlessly at his chains as warmth blossomed over his crotch. The wetness spread rapidly and Noah moaned from the combined relief and sheer embarrassment of the entire ordeal. His head dropped down to his shoulders as his bladder finally emptied, spilling over the edges of the chair and dripping to the floor. Pee trickled down his pant legs and ran into his socks. He had given himself to, admitted freely his kinks in front of and wet himself in the presence of one of the most evil minds in history. Noah Maxwell sat still in his own mess, still spread by the chains and humiliated to the point of no return.

"Well," said HABIT. Noah just couldn't make himself look up at his tormentor, but he knew he would be grinning. "Wasn't that just a pretty little insight into the mind of Noah."

"Fuck off," Noah mumbled, but all of the fight had gone out of him. It was one thing to have just come in his pants and pissed himself, but another thing entirely to have admitted to enjoying everything that he just did. He kept his head down.

Because he kept his head down Noah didn't anticipate when HABIT seized Noah's chin and claimed his lips for a rough, tongue-and-teeth filled kiss. Noah groaned audibly against HABIT's mouth as HABIT bit down heavily on Noah's lips, again drawing blood. HABIT licked up the blood as though it were a sweet delicacy – and to him, Noah remembered, it was.

HABIT smirked when he pulled away. "Cheer up, slut," he said cheerfully. "I've met people out there who are far sicker than you are. If anything, I should be thanking you – now I know exactly how to blackmail your future crispy self!"

Noah tugged a little more on his restraints. He was cooling off fast, and the sensation wasn't as pleasant anymore. If he stayed like this much longer, he would start to get hard again, and that was not a scenario he was going to envisage without guilt for a very long time. "Can you let me out of these now?" he said, sounding more pissed off than ever before.

HABIT let out a deep laugh, and picked up the water bottle. "Oh, no. I'm not done with you yet. I still have to protect you for a few more hours." And then he yanked Noah's hair back, and pushed the bottle into his mouth. "Drink up."