(Four)
Victor Creed entered his apartment building, growling with impatience. Mary followed him two paces back, his foul mood making her nervous. He stabbed at the button for the elevator and paced restlessly in the car as it rose swiftly up to the penthouse. He had been working with a small team on a quick assassination job for the past couple of days and had just returned. He was home two days early because he had rushed on purpose, wanting only to get back here as soon as possible. He had left some of his men behind to keep an eye on things back at the safehouse but still couldn't help but worry a little. The whole time he was gone, all he could think about was Kimble. His greatest fear was that Jael would discover where he was hiding and steal the boy away from him. The work didn't help his moods any, either. The rages had come back on him with a vengeance, spurred on by the grisly job he'd had to do. He wanted nothing more than the gentle quiet that followed after a quick session with his new toy.
He walked into the room with the holding cells and froze as the smell hit him. Shit and piss, very strong. He growled softly and Mary tugged on him cautiously. "What?"
"Stay here."
The room was long and deep. Creed moved along the short hallway until he found the last two holding cells. He saw Leon first. The boy was curled up on his bunk, he was stripped down and his face covered with bruises, he looked like he had been pistol whipped. He made no sound as Victor approached, his breathing was ragged but steady. Leon had been lightly dozing but then startled when he saw Creed at his door. He started to whimper in fear, but Sabretooth shushed him with a finger. Leon quieted immediately, more terrified of this man than the ones who had abused him. He covered himself deeper under his blankets and shivered.
Creed moved on. His eyes widened in surprise when he next saw Kimble. Here was the source of the smell. Kimble lay in a ball, his face towards the door. He was covered in excrement and grime, it was smeared all over his body and his face. It even looked like he had been made to eat it.
Kimble had been living here long enough for Sabretooth to learn the pilot wasn't organically alive. It was part of the fascination that Kimble didn't eat or drink anything other than water now and again, and something that had made him all the more appealing. He wasn't human and therefore didn't excrete, this didn't come from himself. Someone had gone out of their way to humiliate him in one of the worst ways possible. Kimble was shivering, but not really awake.
Victor cursed silently, regretting his stupidity. He had seen this before so it shouldn't really have been a surprise. His boys were a rowdy bunch and just as cruel as he was. It wasn't unusual for them to torture a body left in one of the cells. They were usually a little neater than this, but then again, he was home really early. He was sure there had been worse scenes than this that he had missed. He never asked and they didn't boast of it, they didn't have to. The horror was always visible in the eyes of the recipient, just as it was sure to be there in Kim's eyes when he opened them.
What was unusual here was how Victor felt about it. He was truly devastated and furious that this had been done to Kimble, someone he had come to enjoy, the kid always had a smile for him whenever he came to visit. Creed didn't love, he didn't understand what it was because it was something he had never known. He was wasn't supposed to care about anything or anybody, but damn, if he didn't feel a sharp pain from deep inside looking at Kimble so horribly trashed. He should have warned his boys not to touch before he had left, but then this was the first time he was in a position to care what they had done.
"Hey, Kim," Creed said softly.
Kimble tried to open his eyes in response to the sound of his voice. One eye was stuck shut with grime and the other was puffy and swollen. He had been beaten as well as humiliated and his body was covered with large ugly bruises. He rolled over sloppily and crawled towards Creed on his belly. He was in pain but he was also very weak, no one had fed him either even though Leon was in the next cell.
Normally whenever Victor came to visit Kimble like this, he would smile and even look happy. Now the pilot's face was a contorted mask of pain. He came as close as he could to the containment barrier and lay flat, his legs tucked under him and trembling like a dog who was sure he was about to be whipped. "Master..." he whispered, his voice rough.
"The boys been messin' with you?" It wasn't really a question and Creed couldn't hide his anger.
"N-no, M-Master," Kimble said, his trembling increasing to an almost seizure like state. He felt sure he was going to be punished and was compelled to lie.
Creed knew it and his anger rose another notch. It wasn't helping that the longer he was standing here, the worse Kimble was smelling. Some animals mark their territory with feces and Kimble's reek was reaching deep inside to the feral man within. He felt his personal space had been violated, his boundaries being pushed against and he didn't like it. Not one bit. He turned away and glared at Mary who still lingered just outside the door. He took out his pistol and screwed a silencer into the tip of it. He could smell all four of the men he had left behind in this room and counted them all equally guilty. He said to Mary, "Take Kim to the penthouse. Clean him up. Go quietly, now."
She nodded, seeing the look of fury on his face and the menace in his words. She was so glad she wasn't part of the gang that had been left behind this time. There was no mistaking the expression of murderous intent on her boss's face. Looked like some replacements would be on order. She obeyed and Sabretooth slid past her out into the hallway.
He moved out into the small living area where his men were housed, it was only one door down from the holding cells and quite close. There he found George and Hardy passed out drunk on the couch, the television still blaring. He took them out with the silencer and moved on. He was in a blinding rage but you would never have known it to look at him. He was the picture of control and calm, a hunter. The only giveaway was the tight clenching of his jaw. He wanted to slash and tear, but wasn't an idiot. These guys were mutants with aggressive powers and worked for him only because they were paid. He couldn't take on all four of them without some damage.
He found the other two in the nearby kitchen. He hesitated outside of the door, listening. They were still drunk and joking around about what fun they'd had. Bob leaned on Charlie. "That boy sure can suck good, huh?"
"Yeah. Good thing the boss won't be back for a couple of days. We'll hose him down and do him some more tonight."
"Do you think he'll tell?"
"Nope. We've got his little boyfriend in the other cell. He'll do whatever we want."
"I still can't believe you made him eat shit like that! Guess it answers the question of if he can puke or not. He was hurling all over the place! Creepy how it shimmers away like that, ain't it?"
Creed had to silence the ripple of fury that made his whole body shake and sensed his eyesight dimming as the rage swept over him. Too late. It couldn't be stopped. He took out Bob quickly with a bullet to the head but tossed the gun and grabbed Charlie by the throat. Charlie's unique talent was the ability to shape shift. It didn't do him any good now. Sabretooth smashed his fist into Charlie's face and gave vent to his anger.
(break)
Mary shuddered when she heard somebody scream. She was dragging Kimble's body down the hall towards the penthouse apartment. Creed's quarters were kept separate from the rest of his men. She had wrapped Kimble into a blanket, not wanting to touch him, and was tugging him along behind her like a load of laundry. She had seen early that he was too messed up to walk, the beating had been severe and Leon hadn't been allowed to repair him. She had given him some plasma but not enough to repair all the damage. She knew the plasma made him high and didn't want him so zoned out she would be forced to handle him herself.
She ordered him onto the blanket from his holding cell and he had obeyed, his head bowed with shame and tears of humiliation streaming from his eyes. She wasn't about to carry him, he was beyond gross. He reeked of shit and urine and was totally trashed. Like Creed, she had seen this before from his men, although she wasn't one to participate. She was an ice cold killer, but not one to play with her prey, not like that. She did feel a little bad that she had not anticipated this would happen but there was nothing she could do about it now. At least it looked like it wouldn't be happening again anytime soon, judging from the scream that came from the living quarters.
Mary dragged Kimble ever onward to the penthouse door. The penthouse apartment was on the same level as security, but needed a keycode to be accessed. Only she and Creed had the code. She was his Second and often assisted him in his private matters. Mary was no fool, there was only one real way for a woman to get promoted in a gang like this, she had given in and paid the price. She and Creed had been intimate a couple of times, but he was far too abusive for her taste to let it continue past the point of his meager attention span. He had no idea of what foreplay was and was the worst lay she ever had. He had hurt her badly both times and she was frightened because she knew he was holding back from hurting her worse than he wanted to. He didn't argue about her withdrawal of favors, she was too valuable to him to allow her to get pregnant. He didn't want to kill her. Besides, his head was too easily turned by others, he quickly moved on and she heaved a sigh of relief. She got the promotion she had earned and was the highest paid member of Victor's gang and had the most benefits, including rooms in the penthouse.
Mary slid Kimble through the large suite of rooms and into one of the bathrooms. There was a shower stall in there and she ordered him inside. Kimble moved as directed and shivered and whimpered when she turned on the water and the spray hit him. She wasn't sure what to do for him. She liked him, sure, but not enough to assist. Not with him being so badly fouled. "C'mon, baby," she said. "Wash up."
He didn't move, but bawled like the wounded child he was.
Mary sighed, repulsed by his childish behavior, but tossed him a small ball of plasma to make him feel better. It sank into him and he shivered from the heat of it, reviving a little. Some of the pain left him and he looked up at her, beseeching her with his eyes to give more comfort than that, but saw she wasn't going to do as he wanted. It hurt him deeply and brought on a vicious taunt from the Quitter.
Your little bitch, how she loves you, 'Shay teased.
Shut up, he's just too gross, Zander replied. Go on, Kim. Clean up. The Master will want ta see ya after.
Kimble took some comfort in that thought, grateful that Zander at least had tried to cheer him. It was the least he could do really. The beating and humiliation had been so severe because the men had demanded the glow. They saw how Creed was getting off on it and wanted it, too. Kimble refused and the abuse began in earnest. It was too much for him, they had been worse than Creed because there were four of them. He wanted to give in, he begged Zander over and over, but the Punisher wouldn't release the power. Now Kimble knew how 'Shay had felt when access was denied. Zander was no fool. He knew they couldn't give in or the guys would be all over them constantly. Like a weakling with a bully, they couldn't give up the lunch money or it would be expected every time. When they saw Kimble wouldn't give it up, they would be left alone. It had been awful, not giving them the glow meant that Kimble had taken the full brunt the abuse. He wasn't spared from it like he was when he shared the backwash with the Master. They had hurt him and he had felt every shove and blow. But now it was over and Kimble knew the men were being punished. The Master loved him enough to do this for him. The thought warmed him.
He stood up shakily and reached for the soap, the tears still leaking from his eyes. He would be clean for his Master, yes. They would make love and all this would just go away.
Zander was happy now. That had been a close call. He could feel the Lover slipping away and was fearful he would give up as he had before. The last thing Zander wanted was the Quitter back at the helm. He had to keep Kimble together if he was going to realize his dream of getting them out of here.
(break)
Not long after, Sabretooth came into the apartment, doing his best not to drip blood onto the carpet. He said nothing to anyone but went into the Master bath and shut the door. He came out a half hour later, looking a lot more relaxed than when he had gone in. He had cleaned up the worst of the mess he had made in the kitchen before the blood could seep down to the next floor (couldn't have the neighbors calling the cops!) and then had called a "cleaner" to take care of the rest. Now he had washed away all traces of violence from his body and had a nice long soak in the tub. His clothes had been hopelessly ruined, they were drenched in blood and discarded. No worries there, he always had plenty to spare.
He dressed in a nice soft terry robe and sat down on the bed. He wiggled his toes into the carpet, feeling better. Relaxed. "Where are ya, Kim?" he called out.
Kimble came in from the next room, again crawling on his belly. "Here, Master," he whispered in a voice so soft, Creed almost missed it in spite of his enhanced hearing. Kimble wouldn't look up at his new Master, he didn't dare. He had been severely humiliated and raped, forced to take it by the men holding Leon at gunpoint. The horror of it was still with him, and would be for some time.
"Them boys ain't gonna hurt ya no more. I took care of it."
"Thank you, Master."
It still amazed Victor how easily those words rolled off of Kimble's tongue. There was no mistaking the fact that Kimble had been a slave before. "Yer gonna be stayin' in here with me an' Mary. I can't trust the rest of the gang not ta keep messin' with ya. Just get this straight, kid. I still got yer Leon and he's still out there with them, understand? One lame move on your part and he's gone. You gonna be good fer me?"
"Yes, Master," Kimble replied, his spirits lifting a little at the news he wouldn't be going back to the holding cells. He moved closer, wanting to show just how much he appreciated what his new Master had done.
Victor wrinkled his nose. Even after he had been washed, Kimble still stank. Like the skunk oil, the excrement had been on him long enough for some of it to sink in. A normal human might not have noticed, but Creed's senses were much too powerful. He wanted to play, but Kimble reeked.
Kimble seemed to sense this. He whimpered in shame and withdrew, covering his face.
Creed sighed in disappointment, getting up and taking the thick comforter from the bed. He lay it on the floor in front of the window, folding it into a bed. He cracked the window open a bit and pointed to the blanket. Kimble crawled over and hid under it, crying softly.
Victor stood over him, perplexed. He wasn't sure what to do with Kimble now. He had never had company in here before, not like this. He certainly didn't want to listen to him blubbering all night. He considered having the pilot bunk with Mary but was feeling possessive because of the abuse. He was genuinely concerned about the pilot, but was at a loss of what to do about it. He had no experience with pets or children, disliking them both equally.
He sighed in frustration and lay on the bed. Still aroused from Kimble's touch and the thrill of the kill, he took matters into his own hands and began to quietly masturbate, wanting the relaxation of it.
Poor Kimble could only whimper softly in shame as he listened to Sabretooth jerk off alone in the big bed. He had been rejected, it was the ultimate in humiliation, worse than what he had just been made to endure.
Creed grunted and twitched as he finished without the satisfaction he had been hoping for this night. He cleaned himself and rolled over, fluffing the pillows to get comfortable. He closed his eyes and was soon asleep.
He woke a few hours later. It was still dark, but he could easily see that Kimble was gone. He growled softly in anger until he realized the door to the master bathroom was shut and the shower was running. He got up and went inside, the door wasn't locked. Kimble was in his huge shower, the water almost scalding hot. The chamber was large with multiple shower heads, it didn't keep him from seeing the pilot inside. He was sobbing and scrubbing himself raw with soap. He even had the bar in his mouth, suffering the foul taste to do anything to get this horrible smell off of him.
"So pretty, you smell. You deserve the name they wuz callin' you. Creed's whore," Lakotashay was cackling. "Go on, little crybaby. Tell me how happy now you are yer still alive."
Kimble sobbed. "Go away, 'Shay. Jus' go away!"
"Creed's whore! Creed's crybaby whore!"
"Shut yer yap, 'Shay!" Zander snapped. "It wuzn't his fault, what they done! Leave him alone!"
"Jus' shut up, both of yous!" Kimble whimpered. It was bad enough what he'd gone through this day without listening to his fractured self argue.
He rinsed the soap away and shut the water off, standing in a cloud of steam. He still didn't feel clean, he wondered if he ever would again. He opened the door to the shower and startled noticeably when he saw Creed standing just outside. He stepped back, certain he was going to be punished for being here.
"Feel better?" Victor grumbled, not sure if he should be pissed off or not. He hadn't given Kimble permission to leave the room, but wasn't displeased he had showered again. He smelled much better now. The pilot's different voices nagged at him, especially Kimble expressing such pain. He did his best to dismiss them as some kind of perverted game Kimble was playing but he was uncomfortable with how much Kimble's woe was bothering him. The pain there had seemed all too real.
"Yes, Master. Thank you, Master," Kimble said, keeping his eyes down and his shoulders slumped submissively.
Sabretooth decided to let Kimble's unrequested use of his personal facilities go. He let his robe fall to the floor and stepped inside the shower, pushing Kimble deeper inside. It was a large shower stall, made for group activity and fun by the previous owner, they had plenty of room. He sniffed at Kimble and licked his lips. "You smell good now."
He was rewarded with a happy Kimble smile. It looked so good on the pilot's face, like it belonged there. It made him feel a strange kind of thrill, knowing it was there for him.
"Thank you, Master."
Kimble was silent as Creed snatched at him and spun him up against the wall with brutal force. It was always like this and he had become comfortable with the ritual. Creed would take him hard and then Kimble would calm him to bring it down to a more comfortable level. Sabretooth had grown to love this as well, he wanted the rush of Kimble's power. The combination of the empathy and sex was horribly addictive and he was in withdrawal from being gone. Kimble allowed himself to be crushed and forcibly entered before letting the backwash come. It left him in a wave of heat and passion and Creed groaned in appreciation, under the spell quickly.
Kimble laughed softly and enjoyed this. He was an expert at what he did, a prince among Courtesans, but what he loved best was this. Being used. It was the ultimate statement of being desired and valued. He took what his Master had to give and shuddered violently with joy when Creed groaned and climaxed, his brain not able to hold himself back anymore.
Kimble shook from it, reeling himself from another thunderous orgasm. He was climaxing all the time now, he had grown ever more tolerant of the abuse and was in fact growing to love it himself, much as Lakotashay had. The vibrations of acceptance from his new Master made it that much easier to alter his views of what was acceptable and what wasn't. He fell against the tiles shivering with happiness, Creed's large body comfortable against him.
Sabretooth was still lost in the afterglow, too relaxed to move. His mind was a huge vast empty scene of bliss. It was incredible how this pilot made him feel. There was no way he could turn him over to Jael, it would be a crime to himself. He finally roused and stepped back, his legs a little shaky. He snickered softly and turned on the shower.
Kimble eased away from the wall and reached for the soap. Creed stood still, letting Kimble wash him. Kim's hands were skillful and practiced, he kneaded away all the remaining tension from his Master's back and soothed away his worries. This was another thing he had always enjoyed. This was the loving after, the giving of attention. He was glad for this chance to show his Master what he could do and how he could make him feel beyond just the sex. It almost made the abuse he had received in the holding cell worth it. He was finally here, in his Master's rooms where he belonged. He would teach his Master what it was like to be truly loved and Victor would keep him here forever.
He wet his Master's hair and worked in the shampoo, scraping Creed's scalp gently with his fingers. Creed was in heaven. He closed his eyes and let Kimble pamper him, growling softly in a happy, humming purr. He hadn't been pampered like this in years, certainly not without having to pay for it. He liked this very much, glad now he had decided to move Kimble here and out of the holding cell.
He felt Kimble gently lift off the ground and covered his surprise. He kept forgetting Kimble had powers. The restraining collars didn't work on him so it had been the promise of Leon's torture that held him. Kimble had raised himself up because Creed was taller than he was. He wanted to reach for the showerhead - it was detachable - to use it to rinse out the soap. Sabretooth mumbled with happiness, but then froze in shock and anger.
Kimble was enjoying this immensely and couldn't help but think back on the pleasure he had just enjoyed. The feel of this big man so close had aroused him again and he was a little hard. His partial erection had brushed Creed's ass as he lifted and pushed against him. One of Kimble's hands had strayed to Victor's hip to steady himself as he reached out.
Sabretooth misunderstood the gesture and reacted without thinking. He whipped around suddenly, slamming Kimble into the wall by his throat. "You even think about fuckin' me, kid, an' I'll rip you apart!" Before Kimble could even finish his startled gasp, Creed smashed his fist into his face.
There were no words to describe the pain. Kimble crumpled with a groan and slid to the floor, holding his face. It was terrible and his body shook with it. Creed had punished him before for small transgressions, but never with the same force as this. He was bewildered and confused. He'd had no intention of doing anything to Creed, it just sort of happened. His body couldn't cope with this on top of the day's abuse. He coughed and vomited, sicking up a pool of grey gel.
Victor stepped back, watching in morbid fascination as it shimmered away before reaching the drain, a reminder that Kimble was less than real. Still, he had enjoyed the look of shock and horror on Kimble's face when he saw the blow coming. It showed him Kimble's fear and he knew the pilot would behave. Just for ritual, he leaned in and growled. "You understandin' me, boy?"
"Yes, Master," Kimble croaked and heaved again. He couldn't help it. The room was spinning and he was in agony.
Creed grabbed his hair and yanked his face up close. "You serve me. Yer here fer me to use as I see fit, not the other way around. Yer ass an' yer mouth're mine. You don't touch me 'less I tell ya to an' I certainly ain't yer bitch. Understand?"
"Yes, Master," Kimble whimpered and the tears fell fresh. He was choking from the pain and the anger from his Master's powerful shine. It spoke to him. /I'm disappointed in you. You're not good enough. You don't please me and Leon will be dead/ "Sorry, Master!"
Sabretooth's anger receded. He was waiting for Kimble to try and make some feeble excuse, but the pilot had been too cowed to even try. He stood up and shut the water off after giving himself a quick rinse. He grabbed a towel and stepped out.
Kimble groaned and tried to get up. He managed to crouch but heaved again. He cried out as he was suddenly grabbed. Creed was finished drying off and wanted to leave, but not without him. He hauled Kimble up and roughly toweled him dry. He dragged Kimble back into the bedroom and tossed him onto the bed. "Stay there."
Kimble obeyed, trembling with renewed humiliation and shame. The worst of the pain had dissipated when Creed's anger left him, but his face still ached horribly. He felt a tickle of hatred then, resentment for the blow. He hadn't done anything wrong, not really. He knew the rules, Creed's rules. He knew better than to try and fuck the guy. Creed's shine had told him long ago that would never happen, Victor wasn't about to take the lesser role. They would never be true lovers with the freedom to take on both sides. Kimble felt his anger simmer, but wouldn't act. He was the possession here, he wasn't about to raise his Master's ire again. He wanted no more pain.
Victor opened his closet and took out a box.
A long time ago, he had kidnapped a couple of girls right off the street. It started out as a thrill kill, but became something else. He brought them here and broke them with his sick and twisted mind. He abused them with his fists and kept raising their hopes with false promises of their release as soon as he was bored with them. They became his slaves and he loved every minute of it. By the time he was done fucking with their minds, they would perform any sexual act he had demanded of them. They cooked for him, cleaned for him, everything. He kept them under submission by using humiliation and fear. He would make them stay naked all the time, even if the gang came in for a little party time.
They were naked except for this. In his hand he held a large leather collar with a sheepskin lining. It had a nice big loop on it so he could clip a chain and lead them around. Oh, that had been a happy time for him and the boys. In his psychosis, Sabretooth wasn't able to understand that what he'd done was wrong. When the girls stopped fighting him, he took it to mean they had wanted what he had done to them.
It came to a sad end when one of them turned up pregnant. It was bound to happen, the women were raped almost daily by himself or his men when they weren't menstruating. Not taking any chances on the pregnancy being his, he slaughtered them both. To give himself credit, he made it quick and painless, but it had to be done. He had given thought to finding replacements for the girls, but got too busy to realistically manage it. Now, perhaps that could be changed.
Victor took the collar from the box and returned to the bed. Kimble looked up at him with eyes filled with pain. Kimble's anger had faded, he was broken already, all he needed was a gentle reminder. The pilot allowed him to put the collar on without a fight. "This means yer mine," Sabretooth growled, not unkindly.
"Yes, Master," Kimble replied. His voice was strained and warped from the damage done to his face. But inside a glimmer of hope had returned, the Master wasn't refusing him.
Creed smiled. "Now, tell me. Who do you belong to?"
"You, Master."
"Now prove it."
Kimble whimpered in pain, but reached out in obedience. He could see his pain and suffering was a turn on to his new Master, but there was little he could do about it. He went to his knees and started to please his Master again, ignoring the pain in his face.
I'll git you out of this, Kim, Zander promised. I'll find a way.
It's all right. Just like livin' at Zartak's. I kin hang.
I think he likes it, Zander, Lakotashay teased. Think I'll jus' make sure he keeps gitten hit.
Kimble whimpered softly in response to her threat and Creed pulled on his hair. "Easy, Kim. Yer doin' real fine..."
Kimble's confidence was restored by the compliment and he relaxed, banishing Lakotashay from his thoughts. He worked his Master and enjoyed the rush of Creed's pleasure when it was over.
Sabretooth chuckled softly, petting him now. "Good, boy. Good."
Kimble looked up at him with a smile and saw how his Master's eyes were drooping. "You gots ta sleep now, Master."
Sabretooth was lost in the bliss. He shuffled his way back into the blankets, dragging Kimble with him without really thinking about it. Kimble allowed himself to be crushed, happy that he wouldn't be sleeping alone for the first time in weeks. He was thrilled, really. This was just another sign of his being wanted. It washed away any resentment he might have had for the terrible corrective blow he had received in the shower. Creed's body was warm and lovely all around him and he squirmed a little, getting comfortable, and let the steady rhythm of his Master's heartbeat lull him off to sleep, his bruised and battered face forgotten. Even in sleep, his finger lovingly rubbed the hand of his Master, making Victor smile in the darkness.
(break)
Kimble snapped awake an hour later. It was lighter now, almost dawn. He was blurry and disoriented, mainly from the terrible throbbing pain in his face where he had been struck. That wasn't what had awakened him, Creed was thrashing, reaching out in front of him to ward off a blow.
At first Kimble thought they were under some kind of attack but realized his Master was having a nightmare. So much like Fallen this was, and it made Kimble sad.
"Master," he said, tugging gently on Victor's arm. "Wake up."
"No, Poppa! No! I promise ta be good! I swear I won't be no trouble, please! Don't use the belt on me!" Victor wailed, his voice so tiny and fragile.
Kimble reached across and flipped on the light.
Sabretooth jumped from the sudden brightness and awoke violently, lashing out with his claws. This time Zander was on the ball and phased the body, not allowing Kimble to be injured further.
Creed's hand whiffed through thin air, ice cold air from Kimble's inner core. The chill brought him around. "What the fuck's goin' on?" he mumbled blearily, still shaking from his terrible dream.
"You wuz dreamin', Master."
"What? Uh, oh... Fuck!" he ended bitterly. He was so sick of this crap. He should just go and kill all of those Weapon X guys for giving him his stupid memory back, these dreams were making him crazy. He snatched for his cigarettes and fumbled for his matches, growing cross when he couldn't find them.
"Master," Kimble said softly.
"What!" he snarled in irritation.
Kimble carefully reached for his Master's cigarettes. He shook one out and lit it with a sharp pop of plasma, snapping his fingers.
Victor grunted a laugh, amused now. A portable cigarette lighter, Kimble's uses never ceased.
He took the lit cigarette from his new toy and smoked quietly now, trying to calm down. He felt Kimble's hands come to his shoulders and gently start to massage him, soothing away his anxiety better than any Lucky Strike ever could. He closed his eyes and drifted away. As he was caressed, a strange feeling was growing slowly in his chest. He felt warm and comfortable and...and loved? No! That wasn't possible. But what was this strange ache, this wonderful thing making him feel happy? It wasn't the backwash, they weren't fucking. No, this was something else.
The dream had really unsettled him. The nightmares were always the same. He was back as that small boy, as Dog, and Thomas Logan had opened up a can of whup ass with the belt. The dreams sucked because Creed was always the victim, not a place he was accustomed to being. Part of the reason he was so vicious and powerful was because he had vowed to never be that small boy again, he would never be brutalized like that anymore, not without putting up one hell of a ruckus. The aftereffects of those dreams were seeping over into his normal life. He was seeing Dog's eyes in every face of his victims now, he was starting to experience empathy for his prey, something someone like him couldn't afford. The jobs were getting harder and harder to pull off. The only thing that gave him peace was Kimble's backwash.
He finished his cigarette and then lay back, contented now. He looked up into Kimble's face and frowned, seeing the large bruise there. It bothered him the same way Kimble's humiliation by his men had bothered him, it just looked wrong on Kimble's face. It was like an accusation of neglect, of a lack of caring.
Kimble paused, confused by the inspection and the strange swirling in his Master's shine. Creed was experiencing regret, something not normal for him and it effected his shine, it came off as confusion. The Master reached out with his hand to touch, to lightly brush the swelling there. He didn't apologize, he wouldn't. It was in Sabretooth's nature to just lash out and ask questions later and that wasn't going to change. Besides, he demanded absolute obedience. Violence was the only way he knew how to accomplish that.
"You okay, Master?" Kimble asked softly, mesmerized by the strange fluctuations in Creed's shine. They were speaking to him as they had before. /I'm sorry, but I don't know why. It bothers me to hurt you, but I don't know why./
"Yeah, I'm all right," Creed answered and settled down.
Kimble clicked off the light and Creed shivered when he felt the pilot's arms slip around him. Kimble's anger at the beating was gone, the messege from Creed's shine had soothed him. If the Master felt bad, maybe the beatings would slowly stop over time. Kimble felt only the urge now to mother this man who was hurting so and knew the best way to do that was to just hold him and let a warm gentle vibration of love rock him to sleep.
Victor was hugged, but not too tightly, not possessively or in an uncomfortable way. No, this was just a gentle, kind embrace to take away his pain. Kimble's hands found his hair and he was being petted, soothed away back to sleep. Victor shivered from the joy of this calming affection and slipped away. There was no memory of this kind of love soothing him, it had never happened until now. He'd had no idea just how much he had really needed this, but his body did. His slumber was instantly deep and relaxing, no more dreams would haunt him this night.