She's in here with me again, watchin' me like a spider waitin' for her prey to liquify. I hafta hand it to her, she's good, real quiet, but I can still smell her, faintly, even through my mangled nose. My healin' factor's workin; double overtime right now, tryin' to battle the physical injuries and clean my system of the poison she keeps pumpin' into my veins, so nothin's up at 100 percent, and truthfully, I'm not expectin' to be there again for a while. My ears catch the smallest of sounds, probably a patch of that rough dark skin slidin' over the rock like a snake, as she waits for another "session".
I prefer the physical torture to the mental. I know how to handle pain, but this waiting, this feelin' of helplessness ain't my cuppa joe. It's down to a sick science - she seems to know exactly when that tiny flame of hope that maybe I'm gonna heal quicker this time is burnin' its brightest and I'm startin' to get my head cleared, anger and strength floodin' back into my body like warm maple syrup. That's when she'll step in front of me, yellow eyes gleamin' like the devil, taut blue skin shining darkly in the dim light of my stone prison, and the pain starts again.
I've lost track of how long I've been here, torture and sensory deprivation will do that to you. Mystique and the rest o' Magneto's cronies got the jump on me, but good; I hadn't made it very far out of New York after leavin' the School. I passed out with Magneto's words ringin' in my head, "If there's anything left when you're finished, he may make a good addition to the Brotherhood."
There's a deep rage and hatred burnin' in my belly, but I can't touch it, can't dip into it for fortification. Whatever she's shootin' me full of is keepin' me from tappin' into my berserker rage. It leaves me an impotent animal unable to even gnaw my own leg off to escape, a fly strugglin' in a barb wire web.
So here we are. She's watchin' me suffer, and I concentrate on continuin' to breathe, and together in the darkness we wait, predator and prey.
// blink //
Mystique's low honey toned voice drips into my head. "I'm so disappointed. Look at you." She walks around me. I'm sittin' hunched on the ground, head droopin', arms pulled up painfully straight over my head secured with adamantium chains that are put at careful angles to my claw reach, "just in case". That's the least of my worries, the strain quickly faded to a dull ache I barely felt amid everythin' else. "The great and powerful Wolverine reduced to a cowering animal in less then two weeks." She's behind me now, and she reaches out to caress the knotted muscles in my back. I can't help myself, I jerk from her touch and growl.
"Mmmmm," she purrs and molds herself against my body in what I suppose she thought was a seductive way, but the feel of her skin on mine makes me feel filthy in a way the blood and sweat and dirt coatin' me never could. "There you go, show a little spirit! With your healing factor and my skill, we could do this for a long time yet." She leans in and nuzzles my ear, "Every day . . . for years." A shudder rolls through me and I find it within myself to suddenly bellow in rage and buck violently to try and shake her off of me.
She laughs, a deep throaty laugh, a bedroom laugh. I feel the prick of a needle as she injects more drugs into my overloaded system, and as I'm slidin' down a dark spiral I hear her say, "Wouldn't want you to spoil my fun now, would I?"
I hover there at the edge of blackness feelin' the drugs wrappin' their sticky tendrils around me, or maybe it's just Mystique tryin' to drive me mad through oxygen deprevation again. A bright firework of pain explodes in my vision, and dimily I realize the bitch is slicin' into me, quick, thin, long delicate strokes, to just under the subcutaneous layer. She's tryin' to flay me alive, peelin' my skin from my body. I hear a horrible groaning scream leak from my lips, and dimly, Mystique's cheerful voice comes through the red and purple haze throbbin' in my brain, ". . . such a nice pelt. I think this will make a really elegant wrap, don't you?"
Just when I think its finally over she's rubbin' thick gritty handfuls of salt into my angry oozing flesh, grindin' it in, and she's truly enjoyin' my agony. "Proper seasoning makes all the difference," she says, and the last thing I see before I pass out are those white teeth, gleamin' like a cheshire cat, slowly fading, along with my mind.
// blink //
I grunt and slide a short way back down the slope in a small shower of pebbles and dry dirt. I sneeze and cuss, tryin' to maintain my hold on the side of the mountain I'm tryin' to climb. I'm here lookin' for . . . somethin', I wish I could remember what it was, 'cause I know it's important. This damn thing is endless, and I continue to fight, clawin' my way up the steep slope, makin' my way up into the sunset. Streaks of blood red and indigo stain the sky and I finally struggle over the top, collapsin' for a minute to regain control of my breathin' and my temper. I attempt to meditate, to try to remember what I'm doin' here, and I watch the fiery ball hangin' in the sky.
It feels like time is frozen, nothing's movin'. The sun ain't sinkin', the breeze ain't blowin', no scents, no noise, everything's dead. Frowning, I get to my feet and start to pick my way through the rocky foothill of the next mountain loomin' over me, lettin' my feet land where they like. I realize there's a woman next to me, beautiful, petite, Asian, and I feel like I know her but I can't think of her name or where we've met.
"What are you looking for, Logan-San?"
"I'm not sure." I reach up and grasp at my dogtags unconciously.
"Didn't you give those to someone else for safe keeping?" she asks.
I feel the solid metal melt from under my hand and disappear like vapour into the air. I see Rogue's face. "Yeah, I guess I did."
We're standin' in front of a cave now. I eyeball it, nothin' looks or smells bad in this dead wasteland, but I don't want to go inside. If I go inside, I'll wake up.
"You must go inside, Logan-San. The only way to beat your demons and find peace is to face them head on." I nod, and turn to ask the woman who she is, but she is gone too. I hear a faint whisper in my head, "beat your demons. . ."
The cave is dim and cool. I see a different woman standin' there, her back to me. She seems blurry, out of focus, and I can't pick out any identifyin' details. I'm rooted to the spot, and I can't even yell to her as I see the largest snake I've ever seen in my life, at least what I remember of it, slide up to her. The woman turns to me, and stares at me with ice blue eyes, blind eyes, and the python is swallowin' her head first, so fast if I woulda blinked, I woulda missed it.
With a roar, I tear myself free of my paralysis, and leap forward to meet the beast. It's sluggish and moves slowly, the large lump of the woman's body slowin' it down as it begins to digest it's meal. We clash and wrestle; It tries to crush me with clammy coils, and I try to slice it with my claws, but they don't penetrate it's skin. I grab it under the head, it's huge, and I'm strugglin' to strangle the monster, but I'm movin' it's head closer to my mouth, and suddenly I'm swallowin' it.
Smooth scales slide down my throat, and I feel my jaw unhinge to force more of it down. I'm gulpin' forever, and I'm tryin' not to think about where this whole thing is gonna go; There's no way someone can swallow 10 feet of python stuffed with woman and live. I feel it writhin' around in my stomach, tryin' to get out, and now I'm strugglin' to finish up the last 3 feet or so.
I'm lookin' up at the tail stickin' straight up out of my throat. It tapers to a slender point, but I'm startin' to really worry that my gut's gonna explode. There's this awful fullness inside my body, but if I don't choke it down somethin' really bad is gonna happen, I feel it in my metal coated bones, so I'm forcin' myself to choke it down inch by inch.
I hear my name in a soft hissin' voice, "Logan . . . Logan . . ." I think the snake is talkin' to me from inside, and it's freakin' me out. The whispering fills my head and resonates through me . . .
// blink //
My eyes flutter open and I wince and shut them again at the light that slices painfully into my brain. The hissin' of my dream turns in to a soft little voice with a Southern accent. I struggle to swim back to conciousness, and inbetween blinks I see flashes of a smooth pale face hovering above me.
"R-Rogue?" I croak out. Oh christ, she's gotta leave, gotta get outta here before that sick blue bitch gets her. I'm strapped down to some sort of table, but she's leanin' over me, hands danglin' near mine, and I'm able to grab her wrist tightly. I feel her bones grind under her glove and she cries out, but I can't loosen my grip 'til I warn of the danger she's in here. "Get the hell outta here, Kid! Get out, NOW!"
Rogue looks at me with those big brown doe eyes, she's starin' down at my arm streaked with dried blood and filth. Track marks blossom like deadly flowers in the hollow of my elbows next to slow healin' bone deep slashes. She reaches out with her other hand and tentatively touches my chest its new skin stretched tight, pink and shiny, and damn it's painful. "What did she do to you?" Rogue whispered.
A wave of nausea rolls over me and I feel a cold, greasy sweat break out. She's ignorin' my panic and urgency, her gaze locked on my body takin' in all of my injuries, but she's not botherin' to loosen the thick leather straps holdin' me prisoner. Her fascination makes my inner alarms go off, but my head feels so muddled up right now, all I wanna do is slip into the black void I've been flippin' in and out of. She runs her gloved hand over my raw chest, and I hiss through my teeth.
"What did it feel like?" she asks me. I stare at her in confusion and my grip relaxes, letting her free. Rogue slides a little closer to me, she's practically on top of me now, and there's a lurkin' hunger in her gaze. She keeps rubbin' me with her hands and talkin' to me in a dreamy tone.
"Did you think you were going to die? Did you pray for it? A release from the pain?"
She's swingin' her leg up over my body and sittin' on top of me in a sick parody of a lover's union, leanin' forward to lay on my chest. My senses swim with the feel of her small soft body pushin' into mine, and I'm filled with a deep shame and confusion that the feel of her breasts begin to excite me through the pain.
I breathe her scent in deeply. I feel like I've been hit in the gut with a sledge hammer as the truth I've been wantin' to deny dawns on me. I strain to reach out past the confinement of the straps and catch a strand of her hair with my finger tips. I pull it, hard, and my fingers leave rusty flakes of dried blood caught in the white strands of her shock lock.
"You are one sick bitch," I growl. I wish I had the strength to kill her, truth is every part of my body feels like molten lead. The real Rogue smells like ivory soap, coconut shampoo, teen girl sweat and sadness. Mystique smells like lust, the copper tang of blood mixed faintly with cloves, and old dust. "Rogue's more of a real woman at 15 then you'll ever be, Blue."
Mystique/Rogue laughs mockingly at that. The tickle of air on my neck makes me grit my teeth. Then I feel her dippin' her head, and I unconciously steel myself against her touch. I can't help it, my body remembers the other two times , and part of me knows if the real deal touched me right now, I'd probably crumble to dust in less then a minute. This carbon copy is messin' with my head, bad. I feel her warm tongue run up the side of my neck, eagerly laving dried blood and sweat from my skin, and a shiver rolls through me.
"Come on, Logan, you know you want to touch me. You want to feel my young, bare skin pressing against yours in the heat of passion, at least once. I've heard you call my name out when you dream." Now she's gloveless and holdin' my head in her hands, tracin' my lips with the tip of her tongue, tryin' to tease me into surrendering, confusin' me with her pronouns. Her hands suddenly feel so hot on my cold, healin' skin, but soothin' and smooth, no more pain. I close my eyes to quash that tired, perverted dirty old man in me, the one that does sometimes have that pipe dream that a young innocent girl like Rogue could somehow purify my dark soul, but with my eyes closed I feel like I'm drownin' in the hungry stench of Mystique, and it snaps me back to reality.
I stare straight into her eyes. "I know I've done some damn horrific things in my time, and even if I can't remember them, those things have marked me forever. One thing I know for sure is that I don't fuck little girls, not even if they're ancient shape shiftin' hags like you." Her eyes snapped yellow in anger, and she slapped me across the face, rockin' my head sideways. It was such a petty gesture, such a human reaction from an inhuman monster, I couldn't stop myself, I started laughin'.
There was a strange slidin' sensation on my chest. Rogue was meltin' before my eyes, skin drippin' like hot wax in great globules, and then it was reversing and reformin' into someone else.
"I should have known you'd like the exotic, Logan." Storm's dulcet tones oozed over me and she slowly circled one of my nipples with a long perfect nail.
"I'll give you exactly what I gave you the last time you wore that form, Mystique." With a weak sneer I popped my claws on my right hand and with every ounce of strength, I strained against the straps holdin' my arm down. My veins bulged and I roared in fury and disappointment. Oh how I lusted to drive my claws deep into her belly again, this time I'd make sure I finished the job. She leapt off me like a rabbit. Good to know she was scared of my claws at least. I sneered and growled in my ravaged voice, "Not the type of penetration yer looking for? Scars a pain in the ass to shape shift?"
She changed again, determined to stay in control, not take my bait. "So maybe women aren't your thing then?" Cyclops circled the table like a shark, examinin' my restraints from a safe distance, making sure I hadn't loosened them. Then, takin' note of my fading wounds and the gleam comin' back into my eye, he busied himself at a surgical tray. He turned and swiftly strapped a tight mask over my nose and mouth that I couldn't shake off, not for lack of tryin'. "Could it be be that the rugged and manly Wolverine likes to hang around in public restrooms and dimly lit bars with an exclusive all male clientele?" He flashed that thin lipped smile at me as he waited for the gas to do it's work.
"What I said about little girls goes double for boys, asshole," I rasped out through the mask. The clouds were startin' to sweep in low and heavy across my vision. I fought it, I refused to be sucked down again, but it was gettin' hard to remember this wasn't the real Scott, it was Mystique . . . or was it? One by one I felt my muscles going limp. I blinked and my head rolled to the side. "never . . did . . .like . . you . . .tightass. . ."
// blink //
"...Just like Prometheus," she purrs. "No matter how many times I rip things out, they keep growing back."
file://blink//
Sound explodes through my brain like a sonic boom. My scream is lost in the noise, arms pulled out of joint by my chains when I tried to fling them protectively around my head. I felt dizzy and nauseated, like my entire system had been shaken by a giant and tossed aside like a rag doll. My ear drums must be blasted out, once the after shocks subside my head feels like it's wrapped in cotton wool and I fade out slippin' off the corner of Mystique's smirk as she stands over me.
// blink //
I can't tell what's reality and nightmare any more. Everything's taken on a murky dream-like quality. Mystique's appetite and imagination for torture seems to know no bounds. I'm used to livin' with pain, I really got no other choice, do I? But I'd sell what's left of my soul right now for a shot glass full of something pale and poisonous, something that might blunt the razor edge I've been livin' on.
She knows I won't die without food or water, just make my life more miserable. Instead I'm given just enough to make my body think more's coming and complain when it doesn't. The last time I got water, Mystique stuffed a filthy rag in my mouth, pounding it deep down with a metal rod, careful to keep her fingers from my teeth. She put another rag over my face and she slowly poured liquid on it, 'til all I was breathin' was water vapour. My lungs were burning and fillin' with fluid, and my body thrashed reflexively in panic as she tricked it into thinkin' I was drowning. Mystique's laughter filled my ears like the tide.
// blink //
It takes me a minute to figure out I'd been blindfolded and trussed up like a turkey, left carelessly on the ground like a piece of trash. I was almost at the point of numbness. Almost. Thick leg irons wrap around my ankles bitin' deep into my flesh, and my wrists are carefully bound behind me, with a rope wrappin' my elbows just above the joints. She's tied my wrists to my ankles, turnin' me into a human pretzel, and there's long pole jammed between my back and elbows. I musta been out for a while 'cause it feels like I'm inna vise, the leg irons and ropes pressin' into and strangling my limbs, turnin' 'em black.
Pain purifies, it lets you know yer still alive. Pain feeds on hatred, and it was gorging within me right now. But hate saps, it sucks your soul dry and kills yer faith. Mixed with pain it makes you face parts of yourself most people can't even imagine exist. It'll either kill ya or leave you a mindless animal bent on survival anyway possible. If yer strong enough to accept the darkness, yer strong enough to live with the consequences once you snap back to reality. Usually. Welcome to my world.
I'm tryin' to enjoy the slow lightshow behind my eyelids, keepin' myself distracted from my arms and legs when Mystique finally returns. We play a twisted version of Merry-Go Round for the next few hours, where she jerks me up by the pole and lifts me up and down by my elbows before slammin' me to the floor on my face, or backwards onto my head while she constantly taunts me. Her words weave themselves into a meaningless net around my brain.
I only speak to her once. Through the blood and broken teeth, I ask her, "Why?"
She looks at me comtemptously and pats my cheek before answering, "Because I can."
// blink //
Soft lips kiss me awake, slim familiar hands run over my body. For a second I think I'm back in Xavier's med lab, then I figure I'm dreamin' 'cause Jean's naked body is pressin' into mine as she rests on top of me. My hands are floatin' up to touch her skin, my rough fingers snaggin' on silken hair. I don't care anymore if this is Mystique or a fever dream, and she sees it my eyes. I cover her triumphant smile with an animal kiss, possessin' and claimin' Jean in a way I know could never happen outside of these slimey stone walls.
She responds to me eagerly, hunger matchin' my own. Too soon I have to break for a ragged breath of air, but my hands roam down to her breasts. They fill my palms perfectly as I knead them, gently at first, and then roughly, rolling and pinchin' the nipples , makin' her buck against me. She fills my head with soft gasps and moans as I close my mouth over one, then the other, suckling her, tastin' her. Her head is thrown back, eyes closed, mouth open in a "O", and she is beautiful.
I nudge her legs apart with my knee and she slides down my body 'til she's straddlin' the hard muscle of my thigh. Her head tosses back with a sharp cry of pleasure at the pressure, red hair tumblin' down her back like a livin' flame. I continue to devour Jean's body with my lips and tongue, 'til her back arches and she collapses on my chest with a cry, burying her face in my neck, sinkin' her teeth into the thick muscles of my shoulder, makin' me growl in lust and need.
Jean shifts on top of me and our sweaty skin slides pleasurably together as she trails kisses and sharp nips down my chest punctuated with light flicks of an extremely talented tongue. It's drivin' me wild, I wanna crush her in my arms and trap her beneath me, ravish her properly, but I'm too weak, I have to relinquish some control. She circles my navel, and I draw a sharp breath in, I know I won't be able to last long in my condition, so I grab her arms and haul her back up my chest.
I close my eyes as we mesh together. The slick heat of her is enough to melt the adamantium off my bones and I can hear and feel her heartbeat pulsin' through my own body, the primal rhythm settin' my blood to the boilin' point. We're both close to the edge, it's like we're one body, one mind, straining towards the same goal. She's a white marble Goddess come to life astride me, heaven on earth sent to deliver me from this blackness, this hell I've wound up in. I smell our hot sweat mixed with the cold stone of my prison, and I cry out, hoarse and sharp, bucking up into her warmth tryin' to blindly push myself deeper into her body.
I want to see her face, but instead I see the light flash off the slim blade plunging down into the hollow of my throat as Jean pins me to the table like a bug. My body stiffens and hardens in shock as I try to roar, but all I can do is gurgle blood.
My eyes are wide open now, the image of Jean groaning and writhin' on top of me with her hand firmly around the knife through my throat is forever, indelibly etched in my mind. She shouts her pleasure, a hissing "Yessss," as her body spasms and twitches around my flesh in her release. Jean slowly slides off me, zipping the scalpel down the length of my body like an autopsy, and I see my own blood gleaming on those perfect breasts, the ones I had just handled so reverently.
I'm flickering in and out of shock and awareness a lot, but it seems to go on forever. No man should ever hafta experience that alien feelin' of something tuggin' deep on yer guts where you're thankful as all hell ya ain't got any nerve ending's, pressure where there shouldn't be any. Ever. I blink at Jean uncomrehendingly. At one point it looks like she's tryin' to play cat's cradle with my intestines, and I realize that if I see this woman again after I get free, I will kill her.
// blink //
I'm floatin' in whiteness, nothingness. How ironic that I'd choose ta die this way, just a givin' up of my will and a concious slippin' away. What use am I here, locked away beneath cold, unforgivin' stone, a battered and bloody plaything for a tainted soul with no shreds of humanity left? I was always sure I'd die fightin', takin' down as many with me as I could. After meeting the X-Men I had brief thoughts of re-joining them after my search for answers, choosin' a side, maybe calling the School home for a while. I wanted to finally fight for a purpose I fully understood and could stand behind. My own man, fightin' battles of my own choosin', not a mindless puppet.
Faces float through my mind, faces of people I must have known but I can't place, It figures, even now in my moment of death I am denied my memories. I know I'm reachin' the end when I see Professor Xavier, deceptive with his gentle demeanor, still strong of spirit despite his physical handicap, fightin' for all of his long life for what he feels is right deep in his soul.
Storm, quiet and exotic. I regret not gettin' to know her better. Without her words and quiet determination to make me join the team, I never woulda saved Rogue's life after Magneto kidnapped her and almost killed her. And hell, I woulda probably wound up in Magneto's lair long before now if she hadn't shown up with One-eye in Canada.
Rogue, lost and hurtin', who never would have found a place to fit in if I had left her on that back road in Canada. I guess I was damned if I did and damned if I didn't. There are no coincidences. She's just a kid with too many people floatin' around in her head and no one with enough guts to even give her a damn hug.
Even Cyclops, I hafta hand it to him, he builds a mean cycle, for a dickhead. He wouldn't be part of the X-men if there wasn't somethin' else in him. Wait, hell, they took me in. Doesn't matter any more though I guess.
Jean's face swam by my vision, and lord help me, I couldn't stop the shudder of revulsion that ran through me at the sight of her face. I swear I could hear her voice sayin' my name and cryin'. Just as I registered it, I was being pulled back into awareness so fast my breath was being forced from my body, like somethin' had attached me to a harness on a catapult and cut the line.
// blink //
I draw in a painful gasp of air, reinflatin' lungs that had given up the ghost. It rushes into my body, white hot in its intensity, every fiber of my being quiverin' in idignation. For the first time in however long I've been here, everything was crystal clear, sharp with a hyper awareness. I feel the roughness of the stone cuttin' into my back, the coldness seepin' the last dregs of warmth from my unshackled, dying body. I feel the warmth of the woman's arms cradlin' my head, the smell of the leather body suit she wore. I taste the salt of the tears she's sheddin' as they fall onto my face and roll into my mouth.
I slowly focus on the object of my torment, this demon who once more chose to wear Jean's face as she attempted to pull me from the brink of death for her own sadistic pleasure. Mystique's finally managed to make herself smell like Jean, right down to that faint medicinal antiseptic tang she thinks she covers with some herbal body wash, and I feel the dam crackin' deep inside as fury batters down the last of the pharmaceutical and psychological walls. I let the tidal wave carry me away, the animal takes over.
My mouth opens and words bubble out, "I'm takin' you ta hell with me, you filthy bitch." My claws come out with a final *SNIKT* and I drive them up trying to catch that pale shocked face under the chin and skewer her through the throat, determined to leave this mortal coil with Mystique's death rattle in my ears.
Dimly I hear a third voice shout out, the world glows ruby red, and I explode, flyin' backwards into the calm black death I yearn for. A last word slithering through my torn lips, "Jean..."
I'm sittin' by myself somewhere deep in the grounds of Chuck's school on a cold marble bench in a gazebo watchin' the rain fall. He's been workin' with me, in me, to try and fix up some of the damage Mystique caused in the month I was missin'. At least this time I know I'm not rememberin' things 'cause I don't want to, and now I'm thinkin' maybe I'm better off not learnin' much more about my past. Just more nightmare fodder, something different on the nightly menu.
I guess a month is a drop in the bucket compared to how much I've already lost, but I hafta wonder, what'll happen if it all comes floodin' back at once? Chuck tells me I was this close to snuffin' Jean. If Cyclops hadn't found us when he did I woulda run her through and cut her heart out. That much I remember.
After my rescue, I spent quite a while in the med lab. Jean attended me when I was in the coma, but I grew violent whenever I sensed her near me after I woke up. The Professor took care o' that right off the bat, but it took a long time before Jean or Scott would look me in the eye. Took a while before I tried to, too. Jean accidentally brushed up against me in the kitchen the other night, and before I could stop myself, I felt every muscle in my body tensin' up, my battle rage flared red hot. It was a frozen tableau, nobody was sure how to react or what to do. I gritted my teeth and forced it back in the box. She murmered a shaken apology and it passed.
I see a familiar figure trudgin' toward me through the rain. Rogue. We'd taken to spendin' a lotta time together. Sometimes we talked, mostly we didn't. I never said a thing about my time with Mystique, and she never asks, but I know I never want her to touch me again. I never want her to know what I went through, her role in it. She knew enough of me now, at least part of me anyway. I was rattlin' around in her head along with Magneto and I guess I feel a kindred spirit with her. Chuck's pleased, he feels it's was good for both of us, mutual mutant therapy.
She stops in front of me, rain tricklin' off the wool of the silly cape like coat she still wears and nods, a silent request for permission to join me. I nod back, and she sits beside me and slides her hood off . The white streaks in her hair shine a grey-silver and she lays her head on my shoulder. Herd instinct.
After a little while, I put my arm around her and we sit together, two warriors, one old and broken, fightin' to heal the shreds o' a soul, and one young and freshly scarred with too much knowledge of life's darkness crammed in her head. We watch the rain and listen to it saturate the earth and for the first time in years, I take a quiet pleasure in simply bein' alive.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Wolverine POV. A nasty look into my nightmares, this is the how I have to get them out of my head. A big thanks to my beta reader, 'chelle!! Please contact me if you see somethin' buggy!
Darkfic! Intense! Strong NC-17 for non-con Torture, mental and physical, sexual themes, and general tone.
Darkfic! Intense! Strong NC-17 for non-con Torture, mental and physical, sexual themes, and general tone.