A/N: The last chapter in this short journey. Inspired by not only "Within My World", but also the song "The Mist" from Frank Wildhorn's musical "Dracula". Also, there is some "Phantom of the Opera" mixed in here. A melting pot of inspiration, all of it from songs that embody the madness of this love.
"There is always some madness in love. But there is always some reason in madness."
Title: Within My World
Summary: Within his world—despite the chains her world had tried to bind her with—she would belong to him. Forever.
Characters/Pairings: Jonathan Crane/Scarecrow x OC
Rating: M for sexual content
Within My World
Red.
A sea—or was it just oblivion—of red. Red mist…swirling quietly, brushing against her skin—the mere suggestion of it upon her body singed the very fibers of her being—winding through the air above her, obscuring a view of anything else—but did anything else matter?—slithering across her body, winding serpents of crimson fog—her limbs twitched slightly, longing to feel that touch which was insignificantly light upon her flesh.
The fingers of one hand curled in on each other, trying to feel her surroundings, trying to comprehend where she was. Apart from the thin texture of cotton sheets—was she on a bed?—she could feel nothing.
But there was something outside…a sound, high in pitch and shrill in nature—howling? Dogs…yes, there were dogs nearby, sending their sharp cries up to the heavens.
Something else interrupted their lonely melody…the wind was whistling. Whistling as they moved through…trees? Branches and leaves, or was it stalks of some kind of plant…?
"H…help…"
Her voice was heavy…heavy in her throat as her words were upon her tongue. And yet, the words could not be heavy…they just felt…wrong. They didn't belong in her mouth…they felt alien and foreign…as though she was not meant to call out for help…she was not to alert any to her presence here…
She was to remain here.
She belonged here.
"Ahh…my sweet flower awakens."
A shape slowly emerged from the crimson clouds…a figure with a human shape, yet he could not be human. Not this creature clothed in rags—brown as the earth around them, beneath them—red as blood, as the fog swirling around them—with a face hidden from all expression, save for a twisted smile formed from a gaping hole in the burlap covering his head…and his eyes. Black…and smoldering with a pleasure as twisted as his smile.
"You finally came back to me, little one." He whispered with a voice that rasped over her ears, making her shiver. "Finally…after such a bitter parting. But you remember that day all too well, do you not?"
Her lips were open, but only soft, whimpering sounds escaped her throat. His eyes closed for a fleeting moment, releasing a quiet hiss of a sigh. "Sweet music…" he whispered. Three clawed fingers of burlap brushed over her cheeks—almost tenderly. Her entire body convulsed as if electrified, head turning into his touch.
"I've been waiting for you, Iris." He murmured, running a finger lazily over trembling veins, swollen against the stark white of her neck. "And you've been avoiding me, my willful one. Why would you break my heart with such cold disobedience?"
Her body quivered upon the mattress. The straw that was tucked loosely within cotton wrappings had long since worn through its constraints and reacted to such movement by scratching her flesh. Another whimper escaped as thin red marks appeared on her arms and back.
He leaned over her, obscuring the thin lights from boring through the mist and breaking the spell. Her eyes were entrancing—pupils dilated to black pools, one rimmed with blue, the other with gold. Blank at first, yet emotions were firing throughout their deepest depths. Confused emotions…slurred together until only one was apparent.
Desire.
The point of his thumb ran over her lips. They opened and closed mutely, enticing further pleasure within him. She could not speak. She needed him to speak for her, to coax out that which she desired from him.
She needed him.
With cold, calm deliberation, he circled around her, looming like a carnivorous bird of prey. His eyes gleamed red, primitive and lusting for the vision below him. The mist swirled so calmly around her, highlighting every curve, every contour, every crevice of her body.
Suddenly, she shrieked, head twisting fiercely into the covers. He felt, though he would never admit it to himself, a brief passing of shock. This was a strong reaction, most assuredly, but more importantly, it was a reaction of fear.
His eyes lifted to the ceiling. There he discovered the source of her unexpected terror—a black spider skittering along the glossed strands of its web. It was not particularly impressive in size—perhaps a bit larger than a small screw. But to her distorted perception, it could easily present itself as a genuine threat.
He was the only one allowed to frighten her. No other.
His fingers reached up, wrapping around the affronting creature and crushing the life from its fragile body. His other hand drifted down to her face, brushing a few stray curls aside, admiring how they streaked across her skin, soaked through with the sweat glossing over her body.
"Open your eyes, Iris." He breathed, "Look at me."
Her eyes opened with flattering obedience. Once again, he watched her lips open, only this time, words were spoken.
"Scarecrow…" she whispered. For once, her eyes shifted to lock onto his face. There was no wavering now…no hesitation or confusion. She knew what she needed. She knew what she wanted.
Which was why he did not protest when her fingers latched to his mask and jerked it away from his face.
"Scarecrow…Scarecrow…"
His lips descended to hers, hands clutching at her body with curled fingers that lifted dark bruises on her flesh. She barely winced, only released a guttural moan that echoed within his mouth. Those long, thin fingers dug into his rags. The nails scratched and wore at the seams, opening thin tears upon the blurred sea of red and brown. It took mere seconds for her to wear down into his flesh…clawing at his skin. He hissed quiet approval when she drew blood.
But it wasn't enough. She only whimpered for him—small and meager offerings, hardly enough to wet his appetite, let alone sate the hunger within him.
His head reared back with the grace of a snake—a viper, a cobra. A creature with awesome power and terrifying strength, agility—that was who he was…who he had to be. A creature with a deadly bite and potent, infectious venom.
And she would learn to embrace his poison.
She would learn to seek his bite.
His teeth sunk into the soft, delicate flesh of her neck. The tight clamp of his jaw brought a fast, thick swell of blood to the surface. She would be bruised for at least a week…perhaps longer. All the better for him, of course. His mark would linger on her throat, reminding all just who she belonged to.
But such knowledge only served as mere hors d'oeuvres.
He wanted the main course.
And his sweet slave gave it to him.
The most exquisite shriek erupted from her dry lips. Her throat had to be shredded from the vocal expulsion…had to be burning with pain. Yes, she had to be in agony, yet her body quaked with evidence of white-hot pleasure.
"I told you I would teach you the ecstasies of pain, my pretty little slave." He whispered, though his voice carried through the air, clear as the screams he was coaxing from her. Her sweet voice sang out each time he pressed his clawed fingers down into her bleeding wounds. All the same, the pain was not yet unbearable, this he knew.
But he would make her crave the pain.
"Feel it now, Iris." He hissed, eyes gleaming yet darkened with the evidence of his own maddening desire, "Feel the pain, feel the agony…cry out for it."
She choked out a whimper. He frowned, displeased but not yet impatient.
"Do not refuse me, Iris." His voice seeped down into her ears, making her tremble. "I ask for so little from you…I have permitted to be locked away, chained within the darkness. But I will not be denied any longer…now give me that which I seek."
Another whimper, followed by a light shake of the head. His scowl deepened, yet he still could not be completely angered. Was this not what he wanted? Was this not what he had first seen in her? Was this not what he sought from her? This beautiful defiance…this deliberate refusal of his commands?
"Do not deny me, Iris." He breathed, "I have earned those screams…I have earned that music from your lips!" his hand wrapped tightly around her jaw, clenching slightly and tugging up slightly, forcing her to look at him. "I have earned your music, now give it to me!"
His hips connected, latching firmly to hers. Her entire body convulsed as she found herself engulfed in flame…this white-hot flame of his desire. He had claimed her for his own, now after such bitter separation. But it had all been worth it…had all come to this moment in time where no one and nothing could take her away from him.
And she sang for him.
His dark angel sang for him, releasing her sweet music for him into the night sky, up into the heavens. She sang her song to heaven, to hell, and to the gods themselves. She sang out for her Master, seeking him to lead her song, to direct her music.
Soon, she would always sing for him.
Soon, she would come to want him.
She would come to love him.
And within his world—despite the chains her world had tried to bind her with—she would belong to him.
Forever.
