Please.
"Now, now," He purrs, leaning in to kiss Malik's gagged mouth greedily. "You brought this upon yourself, weaker half."
Please.
He digs his nails into Malik's bare shoulders, takes pleasure in the pained wince that follows.
"The fun is just beginning, after all." Mariku murmurs. "Don't you want to know what happens next?"
Please.
"So eager to know! All right, I'll indulge you. Though I must warn you—" Mariku feels His lips pull into a stretched grin, feels the beginning of veins swell against the skin of his cheek. "There's a price to pay for spoilers."
Please-
"It begins with this." Mariku taunts, tightening the leather holding Malik still. Tied in the same position Malik had been when He had been created, back exposed, vulnerable. "A precaution against resistance. Though there's not much you could do — this is my mind now, weaker self, and it'll keep you how I want you to be."
Please, I-
"The next step? Pain, of course. Pain is, well, simply for the amusement." He crouches beside Malik, uses his hand to soothe the teen's tears with a gesture of mock gentleness before digging in his nails and leaving ugly red marks on the side of Malik's face. He stands again.
Malik chokes out a strangled sob through the gag.
"The next step," He continues, "is humiliation, degradation. Further break the will, let the hot shame keep the tears brimming in your eyes — am I moving too quickly, Ishtar Malik?"
Please! Please-
He backhands Malik, hard, feels satisfaction swell through Him as his hears a sick thwack and His weaker half's head snaps to the side from the force.
"You interrupted Me at the best part, weaker half." He scolds. He begins to press His hands to Malik's exposed back, massages the serrated ridges of the raised scar tissue. "Ask me what happens next."
Please, I-
He fists His hand in Malik's hair, yanks his head back roughly.
"I said, ask me what happens next." He hisses, pulling at the roots visciously. Such pretty hair, so soft and shiny; maybe He'll cut it off, take the whole scalp and nail it to the insubstantial walls of their mind as a prize.
Maybe He'll go for the gold and skin him alive, flay his flesh and leave his raw, bloody body to rot in the corner of their head. Hang the skin high, nail the child to the wall, infinite possibilities when one is pure thought.
…W-What happens next?
"I'm glad you asked, Malik-pretty." He croons, releasing the hair and slapping Malik across the face for good measure. His cheek has already begun to swell, angry red splotches staining the dark skin. Tears run freely from his eyes, fear in his eyes.
"The final step—" He whispers excitedly, with the air of a schoolchild disclosing secrets to a playmate. He breathes the words into Malik's ear, taking the lobe between his teeth. "The final step is to fuck you raw and bloody. Until you're perfect."
Malik groans in despair through the gag.
With a chuckle, He straightens, sparing a glance to the fire. A pleased smile flitting across His face, He seizes the handle of the blade, the blade that's been bathing in the fire.
"What's the next step, the one after tying you down, other me?" He prods.
…I…I-I don't—
"Let's hope you haven't forgotten this quickly," He warns, raising a hand.
P-Pain! Pain…
"Very good." He praises, lifting the knife. Malik struggles against the tight bondage to turn his head and track the knife's movement in panic. When He moves behind him, realization scorches through him.
N-No! No! No, please, please,please—
"Yes…you fear this, don't you?" He just-barely presses the tip of the knife into the first of Malik's scars. "Good."
Please, Other-Me, I'll do anything, not this, please—
"Hush." He orders, worrying the flesh with the application of more pressure. "These are the reason I was born. It's only right that you should be reminded of them."
Without waiting for a response, He drags the blade down roughly, delighting in the responding cry of pain.
He carves along the deep marks with an almost child-like fascination. Time slips away from them both; it could be minutes, hours, watching the leather bonds dig into His weaker half's skin as he strains against his bonds in vain, drinking in Malik's agonized screams, admiring the way the blood streaming down his back in rivulets catches and flickers in the fire's light. Conscious thought had clearly ceased for His weaker half, as he no longer pleaded with words, but let his mind pulse and twist in fear and pain and hatred. Let him hate — He was born from this boy's hate! The more Ishtar Malik feared and suffered and hated, the stronger He grew. He lets His hand dance along Malik's back, digs His dirty nails into the fresh wounds and scratched. Malik writhes in his limited space, instincts screaming at him to move away and finding himself unable to do so.
"Beautiful." He moves His hand to His mouth, tongue flicking out like a snake's to taste their blood. "And next, Malik?"
…I…my back…oh,Ra…
"Weaker half. Do not keep me waiting." He reminds patiently, stroking the blood-soaked back in a horrible parody of comfort. "The next step?"
…H-Humiliation.
"Good boy." He picks up the corset, wraps it around Malik's abdomen and ties it around the freshly opened scars.
P-Please…
Yanking the fastening holds, He pulls the cloth tight against Malik's abdomen, muffled cries tearing out of his mouth with each tug as Malik's stomach constricts inward.
Stop…Please…
He allows just enough breathing room, laughs at the bleeding, bound boy in His mind.
"Stop?" He whispers gleefully. "At the best part?"
…Best…part?
"Of course! Look at you, all tied and bleeding and wrapped up like a little present for me." He grins and His hand clumsily fumbles with the waistband of His pants. They disappear immediately; this is, after all His mind. Malik's eyes widen.
No! No! No,Please!
"Weaker-Self," He addresses, tugging at the gag. "If I take this off, will you scream for me?"
Please, No, Don't,HELP
"No one can hear you, weaker half." He chuckles. "I should know. This is where you kept Me all these years. And when I'm done with you, the shadows will have you."
He pulls the gag out of Malik's mouth. Malik wets his lips blearily, opens his mouth to speak, but He cuts him off by worming two fingers into him.
"No!" Malik begs. "Please!"
"Please?" He laughs, stretching him. "You're eager."
"No, I don't want this!" Malik pleads. "Please. Just kill me!"
He decides that enough is enough, and rips His fingers out, earning a pained cry from Malik. He positions Himself at the boy's entrance, moves forward.
"Oh, god—" Malik strangles out as His head enters him. "Stop, stop, take it out, please, it hurts—"
"Good." He thrusts forward experimentally and feels something rupture — skin? Malik shudders and sobs. "I'm taking you dry, weaker half."
When He is fully in, He pauses. Malik is hot and tight and so — He growls, animal instinct surging to the surface. He needs…He needs…searching for words, He grasps at tendrils of words, comes up with nothing. With a sudden movement, He pulls back and rams His hips forward again, back, again, back, a violent, painful rhythm that brings pleasure as blood lubricates His erection and Malik's screams fill His ears.
"Fuckingscream, you little bitch." He snarls, and begins to do anything He can to hurt the boy beneath Him. He claws, rips, tears at the torn and bloody back, the slender neck, with both his teeth and nails. Malik's screams are bloody murder, mixed with forays of I hate you! andPlease stop!
Suddenly, He feels Himself brush against something inside Malik, and His weaker half trembles. He thrusts again, hard, narrowing His eyes as Malik shudders and moans erotically.
"Filthy…little…!" His weaker half was not supposed to gain any pleasure from this. He tried to shift his position, hit a different spot, but Malik's body had kicked in, clenched Him held in a way that would make it feel good. He paused, panting at almost the edge of climax, to consider his dilemma.
Finally, an answer comes to mind. He leans forward to press his lips to Malik's neck, smeared in blood from His own hands, and resumes His rhythm. Malik whimpers. He takes a hand off of His weaker half's hip and moves it to cover his eyes in the style of a blindfold, and on the next thrust, He digs His nails into Malik's left eye socket and digs at the eyeball.
Malik screams, throwing his head back to escape but He only twists His fingers in further, scratches behind the eye and with a twist and apop—
The eyeball comes into His hand, flesh and gore and sinew clinging steadfast to the socket in a last attempt to save itself. He doesn't bother to rip it free. He leaves it to dangle and hang to Malik's face, blood streaming down his face to resemble tears. He wipes His hand clean in Malik's hair and all the while slams into him roughly feeling Himself build up.
"My eye, my eye…!" With a sickening jolt, Malik's jaw slackens in gag reflex and he vomits violently, his mind convincing the shadow body to empty its stomach.
"Oh, Ra…" He hears His voice hiss out, breathless, feels pressure building in His groin. "I—"
With a quick swipe, He scrabbles for the knife and shoves it into Malik's face, saws it across his cheek and lips. He moves it to the empty socket and cuts the dangling strand, and with a hiss, He bucks His hips, feels hot pleasure surge downward and forward as He climaxes. He loses sight for a moment or so in the afterwave, sighs blissfully and rips Himself out of Malik's still body.
"…I hate you."
He stares impassively at the broken body, the bloody thought of what used to be Malik Ishtar.
"Soon, you'll fade away." His voice is deep, delighted, as He is filled with the inherent rightnessof His own words. "It's time to destroy them."
Malik says nothing.
"Yes. Do not worry! I will exact the revenge you've been dreaming of. It will be Me! Unfortunately, you will not be around to witness it." He laughs, his mind drifting to the faint tug of the physical body. "Look at that. It's time to go."
"…End it. It hurts. Please."
He raises an eyebrow at Malik's hollow whisper, turns away and strides. He feels the physical reality tug at His mind, and the dream world swims before His eyes.
"Don't worry," He calls behind Him as the room dissolves, as the ceiling of their room begins to flicker into focus. "I'll be sure to string you up before the Pharaoh. He can see his faithful servant be devoured before his eyes."
With a last blink, the world solidifies.