Author's Note: This was a request from Cliscia (epic misspell?). Love the smex.
~DeathlyFlames
All Dib knew was darkness. His world had been erased and replaced with cardboard memories. He blinked; unable to tell if his eyes were open or closed. Was he awake? Was he dreaming? His hands were bound; with what he wasn't sure. He struggled and felt his raw wrists scrape against something tight. He was lying down – or was he? He wasn't sure. He felt something cool under his face, something solid, but that might just be his imagination. He wasn't sure how long he had been here, nor why or how, but he couldn't deny that he was trapped.
Dib had called out when he had first awoken, eyes blinded by what he assumed to be cloth. He had shouted until his voice died. He ran in circles and only found wall. He actually beat his head against what he thought was a door until he fell over with exhaustion. Dib Membrane wasn't stupid. No, Dib was an incredibly intelligent boy, and he knew when to attack and when to panic. And he hadn't panicked, not yet.
Dib breathed in and out, feeling each intake of oxygen as it passed through his lungs. He no longer felt the pain in his stomach from hunger. Even without a way to tell time in this place, Dib knew it was a while since he had eaten. Hours, maybe? Days, weeks? It could have been years for all he knew. Dib turned over to his other side, feeling his shoulder prickle with numbness. He winced at the sting of a reopened cut on his thigh. He coughed a couple times as his chest burned from movement. Whoever his captor was wasn't gentle; Dib had found himself to be a personal rag doll. He heard footsteps and he cringed. A door opened somewhere and his captor approached. He knew it was his captor, though he didn't know the exact identity. They never spoke, but Dib knew him from the even footsteps that found their way to him.
The teen was picked up, his ribs screaming at the motion. He felt a hand grip his throat and he gasped for air. He felt the pressure on his flesh and Dib could only wonder who held him here. He heard a rough growl; not an animalistic noise, but not completely human. Dib could relate the sound to a feral dog he saw once, or maybe the sound of a gruff man in a bar fight. He felt his back slammed into a wall and his ribs creaked with the abuse. The hand that wasn't trapping his air stuck him with something sharp and twisted. It was cold and Dib felt himself cough up iron. It was probably a knife, but it could have easily been shrapnel, or glass, or a fork.
"Fuck…you…" he managed. He spat at the man, blood mixing in with saliva. The only reply he receives was being pulled away from the wall and slammed back multiple times. Dib's head hung as he spat more blood to the floor. Dib felt himself thrown, his back finding another wall and sliding down. He coughed again, air flow now being obstructed by blood. His whole body screamed in pain, but Dib would never give in; he would never show this man what he wanted. He held his head up, blind eyes searching for something he would never see.
He felt the kick before he realized he had heard footsteps. It was as if his brain was reacting slower than normal. Maybe it was hunger. Maybe it was the excruciating pain. Maybe it was how even though his body was crying out, Dib was numb. He heard a rib crack as another swift kick connected with him. With each blow he felt himself slide along the floor. One more kick, this one dangerously close to his manhood. Right. He was naked. Dib had almost forgotten the past abuse. As he was lifted up once more, he knew what was coming next.
A hand gripped his length, rough cloth sliding along it. He felt the figure press him tightly against the wall as he stroked, using the sharp edge to slice his inner thighs. Dib couldn't help himself as his member grew. He didn't know what had happened to Dib Membrane, but he knew that was what coming wasn't him. Dib Membrane didn't love being hurt. Dib Membrane didn't crave the attention his cock was getting. Dib Membrane didn't get off on pain. Dib Membrane certainly didn't love being captured, being subdued, being forced. He wasn't Dib Membrane.
So then who was he? Dib questioned this as his cheeks grew warm. He felt moisture on his member and he moaned a little, cursing to himself afterwards. He felt his captor smile against his length before removing himself. He lifted Dib's hands from behind his back and hung him on something on the wall, his wrists supporting his weight and digging harder against his bonds. Dib knew he faced the wall as his face found the surface. He felt the chill and couldn't quite pinpoint stone or metal. Something raked along his chest, leaving stinging cuts down the flesh. He inhaled sharply as his cock was grabbed again, the length being lubricated with his own blood. Teeth sunk into the side of his neck and Dib moaned again, hating how much he enjoyed this.
He wasn't Dib Membrane…he wasn't…
Dib felt the object slice into his back, right beside his spine. He wasn't sure if something vital had been punctured, but he didn't care anymore. He was going to die here. And even though he knew that his end would be in blackness, Dib would never cry out in pain. Pleasure was the only thing remaining.
Dib felt himself being entered; the intruder's cock lubed with something he could only assume was more blood. He was bleeding profusely enough to serve that purpose. The teen could feel the crimson liquid slip down his sides and onto his feet. He leaned his face against the wall as he was pounded again, his ass burning. As the captor gripped Dib's stomach and pushed in and out, the teen could only imagine who was behind him. Sometimes he thought it was Zim, and though he figured it must be that stupid alien who held him now, Dib really had no proof. All he had was the dark and his imagination.
Dib found himself moaning into the wall as he was beat again and again. His mind was a swirl of emotion and unreason. All he knew was the dark, and all the dark knew was the pleasure. In a moment of ecstasy, Dib figured that dying in pleasure was better than dying in pain. And as he felt his mind slipping, the lack of blood becoming too much, Dib felt as if he were dying. As the pleasure exploded around him and Dib was released and let to fall to the floor, he felt as if he were already dead. And maybe he was. Maybe Dib had died and all this was his time in hell. Only figured.
Dib closed his eyes as he laid on the floor. Were they closed? He still wasn't sure. He heard the footsteps leave without a word, as always, and close the door behind them. Dib could barely make a coherent thought as he felt his mind slipping. Maybe he was dead. Maybe he was dying. Or, maybe this was all a figment of his imagination.
After all, everyone did say Dib was crazy.
Insanity had never felt this good.