Gotham was quiet for once.

Well, this area was at least. The reason being that anyone in the entire block was inside the club rather than outside it, and it was raining so Jonathan doubted anyone would be standing in the alleyway with him getting as drenched as he was. He was scouting, looking for a new test subject, preferably homeless, but it looked like they'd all moved due to the raining heavens.

He'd almost given up hope, his tired features caused by many sleepless nights pulled into a cold glare, until he saw him. The club doors opened, loud pulsing music echoing around the dead, dark street for a moment before they fell shut, encasing the screams, laughter and pounding once again. Jonathan watched him with detachment, studying his movements. He was a risk, but when Jonathan watched him stumble into the alley across from him and slunk to the ground his choice was made for him. Carefully he crossed the street, turning up the collar of his coat as he went and began to drag the man back to his car.

Experiment One, Day One.

Normally the test subjects he took were of a smaller build, mainly the homeless or the poor, broken gamblers that stayed around bars in the Narrows.

It made the experiment process a whole lot easier, they couldn't struggle against him much. It's not like he's weak, oh no, Jonathan Crane is in no way weak. He just prefers everything to go proficiently and with fewer struggles. That is why this time is different.

Jonathan normally towered over his subjects, but on this one he only had a few inches of height. Jonathan's arms were thin but when the struggles broke out it was easy to see the muscles moving underneath the skin. Unlike his new subject whose tan body was ripped with muscles, Jonathan had the beginning of a six pack on his abdomen but mostly it was covered with scars. Everyone called him Scarecrow because of his slender frame, but none of them would guess of his secret strength lying beneath the cloth. Jonathan didn't mind his body, he was never ashamed of what made him what he is. He was never ashamed of the Scarecrow, he just preferred to keep it to himself.

But Jonathan wasn't an ego maniac like some of the other villains. He wasn't like the Riddler or Penguin who tried to work well beyond their bounds, that's why he understood if this experiment went wrong his subject could easily over power him and precautions had to be taken. Taking this man didn't mean he was working outside of his bounds this time, he simply came across the easy prey and decided to take a risk. A risk that had the Scarecrow in him purring at the danger. He couldn't say no.

He secured each leather strap to the unconscious man's wrists and further wrapped them in duct tape. As mentioned, precautions needed to be taken. That's why there was a light blue syringe sitting next to the toxic green, an antidote in case things went wrong, he needed to try it out anyway, even though this toxin wasn't as potent as the others. All great experiments needed a test run.

The ripping sound of the duct tape made the man in the chair's nose twitch and his face scrunch in displeasure. His head felt heavy and his limbs stiff, he couldn't remember anything. His eyes refused to open, they could feel the harsh fluorescent light above him and he tried to turn away from it, his retinas felt like they were burning.

"You're awake." Jonathan commented as he moved back and forth between metal trays.

The man could hear the scraping of metal against metal and when he heard the cold, removed voice he tried to move his secured arms. The man froze in horror as Jonathan spoke again.

"Go on and struggle." Jonathan said as he packed away the medical tools he would not need for this experiment. "They all do."

The man groaned as he pulled a muscle in one arm and both began to cramp in the uncomfortable bindings.

"Then they beg." Jonathan sounded bored. "The only real interesting part is when they scream, the mutterings when they're under, or when they're near the end."

Truth be told, Jonathan didn't like to talk much to his experiments, but it calmed them more when he did. Being told you're going to suffer and die is much better than not knowing apparently. The struggling doesn't have twice the effort, he'd noticed that on his fifth experiment. He'd done so many over the years he'd gotten bored and stopped counting. He knew he'd have to be well over three hundred by now.

The experiment's eyes opened and blinked dazedly up at the bright light. "Where am I?" He croaked, his voice hadn't been used for hours. "What happened?"

Jonathan turned and looked at him with an eyebrow raised from behind his glasses. "What do you think happened?" He asked lowly, his voice almost seemed like a predator's growl.

His eyes were hazel and bright, Jonathan dully noted, he'd never taken someone with hazel eyes before. They were too warm a colour for dark, dreary Gotham.

"I don't remember anything." The eyes turned to him. "I don't remember you."

"You shouldn't." Jonathan murmured as he picked up the syringes and put them in his lab coat pocket. He hadn't been too excited about this experiment, hence the jumper and jeans instead of his well pressed suit and jumper vest, hell he didn't even bring the burlap mask down to the basement with him. This was a little side project he'd been working on for the last week, a break between bettering his trademark fear gas, which this experiment would probably help in the long run. Truth be told, Jonathan sometimes got bored of the fear. It was all the same, the fear never stopped being delicious but sometimes he wanted something different. "You haven't seen me before, and after this it's likely that you won't again."

The thick, brown hair seemed to stay still as the experiment whipped his head from side to side, trying to escape his bounds, trying to find an exit route, trying to get away from Jonathan. There was no use, Jonathan was never sloppy and the thought of making a mistake made him frown. The thought of others hoping he made a mistake left him furious, he would never be so careless and from his appearance that should be obvious. Everything about him was pristine, even though he looked a little run down, and the basement itself was in good condition, everything stocked away in cabinets ready for use whenever.

"Please don't, I've got…" The man said only to wince and trail off into silence.

"You've got what?" Jonathan regarded him coolly. "A wife? Children? Money?"

The man stayed silent.

"None of that matters to me." Jonathan continued as he stood by the man's chair and pulled his head to the side roughly, baring his neck for the needle in his hand. "I've killed people with so much more and so much less. Those aren't things to live for, in the end, nothing is worth living for because you never get the choice to live for it and you eventually die alone, regardless of possessions or people."

He struggled for a moment as Jonathan's words hit him hard, his muscles rippling as he tried to break the bindings. As he wiggled his t-shirt rode up, exposing his stomach to the cool air of the basement he hadn't noticed before. Then he stopped struggling, his scrunched eyes opened widely as he took in his surroundings in a new light. He looked at Jonathan, memorised every detail of him from his slim frame to his ice cold eyes and then the room. He was going to die, and knowing that made the world more vibrant and real to him.

Time seemed to slow as the needle sunk into his flesh, knowing these were his last few moments triggered his senses to heighten. He could see everything in a sharp focus, everything seemed so clear now and he could feel everything. Even his memories became sharpened, his toes curled beneath his socks as he imagined standing on the beach with the sand beneath him as the waves crashed forward, wetting his toes. Now he understood why people looked calm or scared when they were about to die, because the whole world changed.

The feeling of liquid being injected into him was strange, foreign and kind of ticklish, a kind of rushed feeling. He closed his eyes as he felt it wash through him and memories from that night crashed over him like the waves he felt crashing against his feet. He was at the club tonight, he couldn't' remember what possessed him to go, and he hadn't been there in forever. But that day he'd lost his job and with it his few friends who were really only his colleagues, he'd came home with his box of belongings and he sat staring out the window for hours. . . Ah, then he saw them, the group of men and women his own age, heading out for a night on the town and he was hit with a feeling of loneliness. So he'd decided to go out and vowed to change his life instead of sitting in his apartment day in, day out.

His life had changed alright, the fluorescent lights above him seemed to get farther away as he travelled towards darkness. It wrapped around him like a second skin, feeling and smelling and tasting like coldness. It settled on his skin, chilling and numbing him so he couldn't move. Just as it began to settle over his head and numb his brain, his eyes shot open to the darkness and his mouth opened in a powerful scream that left his throat feeling raw and ripped. His brain felt like it was whirring and his throat felt like it was being cut by razors, still he continued to scream out into the dark.

Jonathan watched the clock as it hit the twentieth minute since he'd injected the man on the chair and still he did nothing but stair dazedly at the ceiling, his glassy eyes and mouth open slightly. A growl of agitation broke through his lips as he lifted the second syringe, and roughly stabbed it into the bared neck before him, injecting it quickly. He would have to rely on the subject's report for the results of the experiment, that is, if he woke up from whatever daze Jonathan had put him in.

Jonathan stood with his jaw clenched in anger as the third minute ticked by, he wouldn't put this down as a failure. This was only a side experiment, something so trivial and easy couldn't fail. As another few minutes ticked by Jonathan snarled and reached into the inside pocket of his lab coat producing another syringe this one clear of any colour. He stabbed the needle into the neck once more and pressed his thumb against it, ready to inject. He quickly ripped it out as the male subject took in a large gasp of air and began trembling and scrambling for something.

It was the touch. It was so vivid, the feeling of the sharp metal prodding his veins and the slight brush of human skin on his own left him trembling. It was better than before, he could taste the stale scent of the basement by breathing through his nose. He could smell the deodorant Jonathan was wearing and it made his nose feel like it was burning but it was so good. He could smell Jonathan's skin and when Jonathan's hand slapped his face he shivered and stared up at him with bright, wide eyes.

"Tell me what happened!" Jonathan sneered as he leaned down and placed both hands on the man's face, ignoring the prominent erection straining against the man's jeans. "Now."

"It was dark." His throat was hoarse and it burned to speak, he could taste and feel blood trickling down his throat. "I could feel everything, I can feel everythingand I was screaming."

Jonathan moved back a few inches, bracing his hands on either side of the man's head. "Were you frightened?" His voice was low and sent tremors through the man, his ears began to feel warm as if Jonathan's voice was caressing them. Jonathan frowned but stayed silent at the reaction.

"Yes." He whimpered. "There was nothing, nothing but darkness yet everything was there."

Jonathan moved away and ignored the whimpers of the man as he did so, he seated himself on the chair by the metal desk, holding the back as he slid onto it and wheeled in tight to the desk. His body gradually slouched over until his nose was near touching the page as he scribbled down the notes of the observations he had made and the report from the subject.

Subject displays no movement when under the toxin, even though he describes movement, vocalising and feeling when administered the antidote.

From my observations the toxin seems to put the subject into a comatose state while effectively trapping them in their own mind. Unlike my original fear toxin they cannot see what is frightening them, they are trapped in darkness and have no memory or recognition of what they are seeing. That is if they are seeing anything at all. The toxin seems to be tricking the mind that there is something to be frightened off yet there is nothing from the subject's report.

Subject displayed no REM or reaction to light or touch while under the toxin, once administered the antidote the subject reacted to touch. Even now he is sensitive to touch and sound and seems to need physical touch.

Jonathan chewed on the pen before ripping away from the desk and striding over to the whimpering man, once close enough the whimpering stopped. Jonathan growled low in his throat and grabbed the man by the throat, cutting off his air supply.

"Tell me more." He snarled. "I need more."

The man didn't struggle yet pressed into Jonathan's touch while his hazel eyes shined and his thin lips fell open. Brown hair fell into his eyes as his eye lashes fluttered when Jonathan squeezed tighter, forcing the subject to choke out little gasps and force in little puffs of air to his burning lungs.

"Tell me!" Jonathan shouted, ripping his hand away from the man's throat and threaded his fingers into the brown hair, tugging at it furiously.

The man let out a strange mewl that made Jonathan's eyes widen in surprise then narrow.

"Does this hurt?" He snarled into the man's ear. "Tell me."

The man nodded and gasped as Jonathan delivered another sharp tug and wrapped a hand around his throat again.

"Shall I stop?" Jonathan asked lowly as he applied pressure to his throat but not nearly as much as before.

The man shook his head. "I can feel everything."

Jonathan broke away and walked back to his notes as he checked the watch on his wrist.

Seventeen minutes after the subject was brought back to consciousness and still he displays sensitivity to touch. This sensitivity seems to be creating a false state of euphoria for the subject, he can feel the pain yet it is too great to actually hurt him. Nerve endings may be damaged or this is a temporary effect of the toxin.

Subject may have masochistic tendencies, but this seems unlikely as he didn't react to them before the experiment.

Jonathan hastily grabbed the notes he had made and bounded up the stairs to his study, in his haste forgetting to turn off the lights to the basement and forgetting the man he had left bound to the chair alive.

Experiment Two, Day Two.

The next morning Jonathan woke with a groan, his features twisting into a grimace as he lifted his head off the hard wooden desk and straightened his bent back. He'd fallen asleep at his desk again. He didn't even spare a glance at the notes he'd slaved over the night before as he forced himself out of the chair and into the bathroom, a routine he forced himself to follow every morning. He sighed as each article of his clothing hit the tiled floor and he stepped under the cold spray, waiting patiently for it to warm up. When it did he washed quickly and got out, dripping onto the mat by the sink were he brushed his teeth and gathered his clothes into his arms as he walked back to his study bedroom combo.

He eyed the neatly made bed with detachment and threw his clothes into the small laundry hamper before dressing in casual clothes again. Back at the desk he frowned at the half mug of stale coffee and swallowed it down quickly with a grimace then rinsed the mug quickly in the bathroom sink. The house he lived in was small and pretty run down but Jonathan had fixed it up a little and deemed it liveable. It was by no means homey, but when was Jonathan Crane ever bothered with home life? He had an oven, a stove, a coffee maker and a lot of coffee and tinned foods that made life here easier. Not to mention the makeshift lab in the basement where he spent most of his days.

Deciding not to bother with breakfast Jonathan secured his watch around his wrist and walked downstairs to the lab with his notes organised under his arm. He opened the door and frowned when his fingers hit the already turned on light switch. His frown deepened when he reached the bottom of the stairs and saw the unconscious man in the chair. It got even worse when the smell hit him, he smelt worse than a dead man.

Jonathan bounded over to the unconscious man and gripped his hair tight like he had done the day before. A groan of pain broke through the subject's lips as his eyes rolled up to meet Jonathan's blearily.

"Please." The man groaned.

Jonathan's jaw clenched as he waited for the begging to begin, he regretted not killing him last night. Then again, he preferred for his toxins to do the killings. At the next words Jonathan froze and eyed the man sceptically.

"Please…" The brunette repeated. "Do it again."

Jonathan's mind raced as he analysed the man and nodded sharply, he needed more results and why get new subjects when he could study the course of one? He shuffled around in a locker to the right and pulled out another green vial which he made another syringe of. The vial was different this time, the subject noticed, unlike the neon green before this one wasn't as vibrant, it was darker. He took that to mean it was stronger and he shivered in anticipation. The sharpness of the room came back to him, adrenaline being released through his body as fear spread through him. It was weird, it didn't feel like fear at all but that's what it was. This experience spread more fear through him than being held at gunpoint ever could.

The needle pricked his arm this time, his neck was too bruised to endure more stabbing and injecting today. His eyelids fell quicker this time, and his mouth dropped slightly as he was plunged back into darkness. The screaming began again.

Jonathan watched with mild curiosity as he sat by the subject. He noted with a strong dose there was slight movement, he could see the slight clenching and unclenching of the throat as eyelids fluttered slightly. Twenty minutes into the experiment, like last time, he injected the antidote into the subject's arm and then stabbed the subject in the leg with the empty syringe. A howl erupted from the man as his eyes shot open and he struggled in his bindings exactly like last time.

"Tell me." Jonathan commanded as he sat with his legs crossed, pen and paper at the ready. For a moment he felt like he was back at Arkham, and a cold shiver made its way up his spine as he remembered being on both ends, the therapist and the patient.

The man's chest heaved up and down as his body burned and his eyes were clouded as if he were far away, he could still taste the copper of his blood in his mouth and the ghost of it trickling down his throat. It hurt, he couldn't speak yet he didn't mind, frankly he didn't care if he could never speak again. The sound of sloshing water brought him back, his eyes clearing as he looked at Jonathan swishing water around in a little white plastic cup. He licked his lips, the action leaving his them tingling as he did it again and again. His tongue felt numb and didn't feel like his own, heightening the feeling as it dragged over his lower lip repeatedly.

Jonathan tilted his chin up and brought the cup to his lips, a groan leaving him from Jonathan's slender fingers dragging against his stubble. The water was carefully tipped into his mouth and his throat swallowed greedily until the cup was empty.

"More." He groaned, not knowing what he wanted more of, water or touch.

Jonathan frowned at that also and gripped the man's chin so hard it would bruise. "Tell me."

"It was the same." He croaked. "Darkness, it clung to me. It wouldn't let go and I couldn't stop screaming-"

"What were you screaming at?" Jonathan's eyes darkened.

"I don't know. There was nothing." His eyes met Jonathan's again, fascinated by the cold blue that darkened at his failure to respond.

"Who were you screaming for?" Jonathan growled, his nails digging into the skin now and leaving little spots of blood forming along his jaw.

The man's eyes seemed to clear as he stared up at him, worshipping and obedient. "I was screaming for you." He spoke softly.

Jonathan froze again, that was unexpected. "Why me?"

The man continued to stare. "Because you wanted me too."

Jonathan threw his jaw forcefully, making his head snap to the side as he scribbled down notes again and ignored the whimpers from the bound man. What Jonathan didn't see was that when he took his attention away from the subject, his hazel eyes darkened and his whimpers turned to growls.

"Untie me." He whispered harshly. "I need to move. I need to feel." I need to feel you.

Jonathan's head snapped up at the snarls and he narrowed his eyes. "You'll be untied when I deem you ready to be unbound." His hand secured around the subject's arm painfully. "This is my world down here, and my word is law."

The man whimpered and squirmed, thankful at least that his legs weren't bound but what he needed were his hands. He needed to rub his fingers and his palms along something, something soft or something hard, something smooth or something rough.

Jonathan left him downstairs again that night. The smell was beginning to get stronger, he hadn't use the bathroom in so long and he knew when he woke up he had soiled himself. Other than the smell he was content. In the middle of the night, a few hours after Jonathan had gone upstairs and turned off the lights, his fingers had began searching and rubbing. His senses had heightened in the dark and he had managed to kick off his socks and rub them against the cool, rubbery fabric of the chair. He groaned out, the sound echoing around the room and deepening when his fingers began tracing the rough material of the duct tape.

When Jonathan came down the next morning he watched the man stroke the tape around his wrists in his sleep.

Day Four.

Today Jonathan wore a crisp white shirt, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and pressed black slacks with black leather shoes that squeaked silently when he walked. The subject's mouth watered at the sound and sight, the shirt hung loosely from Jonathan's body, it was no doubt an older shirt, and he wanted to feel the crisp fabric between his fingers. His own clothes were beginning to hang on him. He estimated this was his fourth day here, and Jonathan had only fed him soup twice, both after the next two higher doses of the toxin given to him. He was use to a more carbohydrate, protein diet.

Jonathan had been spending most of his time in worn clothes in a room in the furthest corner of the basement. He could hear the clattering of instruments off tiles and curses and snarls from him. It was when Jonathan was in his worst mood he came out of that room and injected him, but he wasn't complaining. His clothing choice indicated he wasn't working in that room today, or whatever he had been doing was finished. He really wanted to see what it was but for now he'd keep his curiosity at bay, he had bigger things on his mind right now.

He squeezed his thighs together, shut his eyes and bit his torn lip with a yelp. His body wriggled as he felt the familiar, sharp pain in his abdomen and the pressure at the base of his spine as he tried to hold his bladder. He was already soiled and smelly from doing this in the middle of the night, but to do it in the middle of the day in front of someone was too horrifying for him to even comprehend. Jonathan froze at his desk, his scribbling stopping as he peered back at the bound man above his glasses, his expression darkening at what he saw before he sighed darkly and stood.

The man whimpered as Jonathan stood near him and began ripping off the duct tape and undoing the buckles that pinned down his arms. His arms began to burn at the ability to move and even a twitch had him crying out. Jonathan growled and pulled him up from the chair, dragging him to the room in the farthest corner. He was too weak to balance him and relied heavily on Jonathan dragging him by his burning limbs. He had never felt so weak before yet the touch on his arms soothed him, the familiar feeling of long, thin fingers grabbing him in a bruising grip. Jonathan was stronger than he looked.

The door flew open as Jonathan kicked it and the man's hazel eyes widened at the bright lights of the makeshift bathroom. Jonathan leaned against the now closed door and stared at the wall heatedly.

"You have to go. Now go." He said darkly, his eyes flickering to the subject's in a glare before the man nodded dumbly.

He turned to the toilet, thankful he only had to release fluids and with shaking fingers he undid the zip to his jeans and relieved himself, one trembling arm leaning on the wall. The smell of urine was strong, it left his nose wrinkling but it couldn't be helped. He'd had very little water in four days and the only thing he ingested had been soup. Once finished he flushed the toilet and watched as it weakly flushed away his urine. He stumbled to the sink, supporting himself on it with a weak trembling arm as the other tried to turn the stiff taps. He couldn't do it. Jonathan batted his hand away impatiently and turned the tap on while squeezing soap onto his hands. He washed them then took some damp tissue and began cleaning himself as best as he could, washing his body quickly of sweat and waste. He stripped off his jeans and underwear, grabbing a plastic bag from the counter and throwing his underwear in them before cleaning his jeans with the little products he had before pulling them on again. After he washed his hands again he dried them quickly on his cleaner jeans and turned to Jonathan who looked at him with contempt.

"Are you finished now?"

The man's face and chest flushed crimson as he nodded stupidly. Jonathan glared and turned back to open the door, then he saw it. His mouth watered as he saw a part of Jonathan's shirt was un-tucked and flowed as he walked. A sudden need to touch it took over him and he was hit with a bout of strength. Without thinking his hand grabbed for the shirt, pulling it towards him and successfully un-tucking the back of the shirt from Jonathan's pants. Jonathan turned and snarled, smacking his hands away and pushing him into the wall.

"Don't do anything stupid." Jonathan snarled. "Or you'll deeply regret it."

The subject watched as Jonathan's full lips moved and felt himself licking his own again. He needed to touch something, anything, and Jonathan's threats fell on deaf, uncaring ears. He understood what he said, but he would die for this if that was the price.

He launched forward, catching Jonathan's shirt, successfully un-tucking the whole thing and pressed Jonathan against the opposite tiled wall. Jonathan raised a clenched fist and punched him forcefully on the temple. He stumbled back, his body aching at the loss but the throbbing pain of his head masking it slightly. Jonathan threw open the door and ran towards his desk, fumbling for the sedatives he needed when he remembered he left them in the open locker by the makeshift bathroom. The subject came out, a wondrous look on his face as he glanced between Jonathan and the sedatives he was glaring at. Carefully he lifted one, ignoring Jonathan's warning, dreaded look and walked forward, placing the capped syringe in the back of his jeans.

"Stop." Jonathan commanded.

The subject whined deep in his throat as he slammed into Jonathan who tried to run around him, knocking them both to the floor. Jonathan grunted at the weight on top of him and felt a slight tremor of defeat run through his body, unless the subject slipped up Jonathan was going to lose this battle. Speaking of which, the man in question sat up, straddling Jonathan's hips. Jonathan jolted as he felt the erection poking at his stomach, he'd noticed the man had gotten aroused after each test by the sensitivity caused by the toxin but he never realised that it had yet to cease. The man above him ran his hands down Jonathan's clothed chest and literally purred at the material. The crispness of the shirt felt wonderful but when he hit a crease he all but twitched in want.

"It feels so good." The man whimpered as he bent down to rub his unshaven cheek against it, whining when he couldn't feel it completely due to his stubble. He moved on quickly though, moving down Jonathan's slacks swiftly as Jonathan lay perfectly still, glaring at the fluorescent lights, collecting data as his subject moved. His attention was brought back as he felt and heard his subject's fingers move against the leather of his shoe, he had noticed him staring at them as he walked earlier and hoped this would be enough to satisfy his urge.

It wasn't.

His subject took them off along with his socks, running his fingers greedily around his toes and the skin of his feet. The moan the subject let out was surprising and Jonathan's body went solid at the sound, at this point he didn't know how far the subject would go.

"Good. So good." He whined as he rubbed his face along Jonathan's shirt until he nuzzled into his neck and gasped. "Feels so good."

"Perhaps I should get you more materials to feel." Jonathan's jaw clenched as the subject ran his cheek over Jonathan's. Jonathan made a mental note to avoid this ever happening again by getting this subject and future ones some velvet or silk to touch.

The subject made a noise of agreement and trailed his hands up from Jonathan's hips. They both froze as the movement forced his shirt up and let the subject's hands touch his bare sides. A noise of surprise came from the brunette as he forced the shirt up and slapped away Jonathan's protesting hands. His mouth watered and his eyes widened at the smooth, pale flesh that was littered with white scars, both flat and smooth and raised and rough. Jonathan scowled at the man, threatening him with his eyes, daring him to go further, and promising punishment no matter what.

The man's eyes danced with mirth and delight at that look and put his palms on Jonathan's stomach only to push them slowly up to his chest, down his sides and back again. His erection was straining now, at first Jonathan hadn't been worried by it, he'd had these results before but he had a nagging suspicion something would come of it this time, and he didn't like that thought. He needed to try a different tactic.

"What's your name?" He said it as neutrally as he could, trying not to let anger colour his tone.

The subject's head snapped up as he opened and closed his mouth. His brow furrowed as he tried to concentrate and kept running his hands along the exposed skin. "Gerry."

"Gerry." Jonathan said lightly. "Can you let me up?"

As Jonathan said his name Gerry's hips snapped forward to rub against his stomach. He groaned out and a surprised gasp left him as he noticed how hard he was, he hadn't really noticed it before. He whimpered as he looked at Jonathan's face. "I can't."

"You can." Jonathan glared. "Let. Me. Up."

Gerry scooted down Jonathan's hips, only to grip them tightly with his hands and run his lips over the exposed skin of his chest and stomach. Jonathan felt the oxygen being knocked out of his chest as his attacker's lips drifted over his nipples repeatedly.

"Stop it." He ground out, fists clenching at his sides.

Gerry growled in agitation as he felt his chin hit the top of Jonathan's slacks, he sat up, suddenly furious and tore at the black leather belt that held the slacks to Jonathan's body. Jonathan struggled uselessly, his hand closed around the subject's throat threateningly only to be batted away and held down by his side. With the belt free the subject noticed how loose the slacks actually were on Jonathan's slim hips and how they moved when he wriggled around.

"Gerry." He warned darkly. "Don't even think about it."

Gerry whimpered at the use of his name and hooked his fingers into the top of the slacks quickly pulling them down the wriggling hips with Jonathan's boxers without undoing the button or the zip. His eyes widened and his lips pressed into a thin line as he stared at the milky thighs and Jonathan's limp member that was surrounded with groomed dark curls. Suddenly the slacks in his hands didn't feel nice anymore. He pushed them down passed Jonathan's knees and knelt on top of them, pining Jonathan's slightly open legs to the cold basement floor.

Jonathan had always believed his body to be nothing more than a vessel. His interest had always been and always would be the mind, his body meant nothing to him and the brief encounters of the flesh he'd had in the past had been unsatisfactory and disgusting. Now he visibly twitched as the subject began rubbing his face into Jonathan's pale thighs, nosing the inner sensitive flesh and tickling it slightly with his facial hair. Jonathan made a mental note to shave him if he got out of this, the force of the rubbing paired with the stubble left his skin tinged red and feeling slightly raw.

Gerry fell deaf to anything Jonathan said from there on in, if he said anything at all, the feel of his smooth skin was too captivating. His face and hands ran along the legs and thighs before him, eventually the hands drifted up to the bared, scarred torso again, deftly tracing shapes and patterns along the scars and running fingers over the nubs hardened by the cold air. Jonathan knew it was about to get worse, he had a sinking feeling in his gut that this wasn't enough for his subject and watched with disdain as he was proved right. Gerry's hands fell to his hips, squeezing them tightly and oddly comfortingly as he trailed his nose up Jonathan's thigh until he began nuzzling Jonathan's limp cock. A growl tore from Jonathan as he struggled but Gerry's grip on his hips was too tight, no doubt they'd leave deep bruises. Gerry whined and nuzzled the organ happily, the soft, silky skin feeling like the best thing he had ever touched, contrasted by the course hair around it. He lifted his head and licked the trail of hair leading upwards until he met Jonathan's belly button, where he swirled his tongue around it and dipped it in happily until he began nuzzling Jonathan's cock again, purring happily when he noticed it starting to harden.

Jonathan breathed in heavily, anger spreading through him at the violations he was experiencing. He didn't feel angered at his body's betrayal, this was human biology, this was supposed to happen. Albeit it happened easier this time than his past encounters, his mind was categorizing everything Gerry did and how his body responded for further analyses later. He felt his cock twitch as Gerry nudged his erection with his nose and slipped in to nuzzle his balls. Jonathan bit his tongue to keep his groan stuck in his throat as he breathed heavily through his nose and stared at the ceiling. He could get through this.

A tentative mouth began mouthing at his balls and up to his cock, working his cock to full hardness that had Jonathan squirming and his mind sharp on the task at hand and hazy to everything else. The mouth returned to his balls, a wet tongue slithering out to lick at them softly at first, then harder. Jonathan brought his fist to his mouth and bit into it, groaning as blood began dripping into his mouth. At the groan Gerry whimpered and wanted to hear it again. One of his hands grasped Jonathan's cock, pushing it towards Jonathan's stomach so he could lick from the bottom of his balls and up his hardened length. Jonathan rewarded him with a muffled groan again and it made Gerry into a whimpering mess.

He felt one of Gerry's hands disappear from his body only to hear the familiar sound of a zip being dragged down quickly and the shuffling of clothes moving but not hitting the floor. Jonathan panicked for a moment, snarling and struggling to get out of the subject's grip until he felt lips wrap around him and suck him into a tight, wet heat. His head felt back to the floor with an audible thump and he moaned out into the basement shamelessly. Gerry pulled off for a moment to look at him, to take in Jonathan's panting, flushed form and when he opened his blue eyes Gerry whimpered and placed a hand on his own cock, pumping it slowly, and leaned back down to take Jonathan back in his mouth.

He focused primarily on the tip, Jonathan noticed, no doubt grunting and slurping at the pre-come it was producing greedily. He wasn't sure how much time had passed, he wasn't sure when his back had arched or when his arms had raised above his head and were clawing at the floor. It was too much, yet not enough. Gerry sensed this, he seemed to notice everything Jonathan needed just as he thought it. One hand gripped the based as Gerry forced Jonathan further into his mouth and pushed his face down until his lips met his hand. Jonathan could feel himself at the top of Gerry's throat, it was tighter and hotter, and he just needed one more push. Panting helplessly he felt Gerry remove his hand and force his throat to take Jonathan in, ignoring his gag reflex and stilled until he was sure he could handle it. Gerry seemed to be more in control now, he seemed to be more normal than he had been since the experiments started and the hazel eyes that gleamed up at him seemed to be worshipping, trusting and clear.

Jonathan threw his head back and scrambled along the floor for something to hold onto, for the first time he pumped his hips upwards into the tight heat and groaned in delight. Gerry moaned around him as he felt Jonathan begin to fuck his mouth and began to stroke himself faster. Jonathan began moving faster and growled, threading his fingers into his subject's hair as he forced his hips up into him and his cock further down his throat.

"You're pitiful." Jonathan growled between low moans and rocking his hips up into him. "You like this. I can see it in your eyes, you idolise me. You're sick."

Gerry moaned around him, whimpering when Jonathan purposely stopped thrusting for a few moments and moaning when he started again. He could feel him pulsing in his mouth, the feeling of wet, throbbing flesh was so delicious he felt like he couldn't breathe. Jonathan moaned quietly, trying not to show his enjoyment and obvious oncoming orgasm as he thrust harder and erratically until he came down Gerry's throat. Gerry groaned at the taste, pulling back to let some of it spill out on to Jonathan's cock.

Jonathan lay back, his chest heaving from his orgasm as he heard the wet sound of Gerry slurping up his cum and his hand moving over his own wet cock. His chest was still heaving when he sat up and watched with narrowed eyes as Gerry licked cum from his cock and the surrounding hair. He watched as Gerry thrust his hips into his fist and moaned shamelessly, moans of desperation as he tried to come. Gerry looked up, some remnants of Jonathan still on his chin, when Jonathan lifted his hand and backhanded Gerry across the face. Gerry cried out in surprise and his body shook as he fell forward onto one hand and came on the ground between Jonathan's thighs, careful not to get any on Jonathan himself. Jonathan raised an eyebrow at that, it was interesting. Although this whole thing would be categorized under his 'what not to do' list, his test subject still didn't take complete advantage of the situation.

Gerry's body slouched forward as he panted and let his head rest comfortably on Jonathan's thigh. Jonathan frowned at the closeness and shuffled his body backwards until he could stand and pull up his slacks. Carefully he tucked himself away, licked clean by Gerry, and half-heartedly tucked in his shirt. With a slightly trembling hand he fixed his glasses on his face and pushed back his long dark hair.

No words needed to be spoken, especially when Gerry looked up at him with adoring eyes then kept his head bent to the ground as he panted and recovered. Jonathan's legs shook slightly as he climbed the stairs and locked the door to the basement. He winced when the back of his shirt clung to him unpleasantly from the thin layer of sweat that coated his body. He needed a shower badly but from past experiences, no matter how badly they had ended, he knew that he was always hungry afterwards and guessed it was a normal habit. After washing his hands he grabbed the packet of crackers and the unopened chocolate spread and a knife from the kitchen before heading back to the basement. When he returned he noticed the subject sitting on the chair again, an expression of deep concentration on his face. He was so lost in thought he didn't notice Jonathan's return until Jonathan sat at his desk and tore open the crackers, covering them with chocolaty goodness before nibbling on them thoughtfully as he began his work with a clear head. That's when he noticed the sedative Gerry had taken earlier was sitting on his desk.

Jonathan turned to him, eyes dark and feral as he strode forward with the needle in hand. Gerry yelped slightly as he felt Jonathan stick it into his left thigh and his eyes rolled back as he fell into the chair.