| [Feb. 12th, 2010|07:30 pm] |
Takajin didn't stop touching.
Kakashi endured hands in his hair, fingers on his neck, an arm around his shoulders, and breath on the side of his face until he felt like screaming. Until the drugs washed that thought away and replaced it with another, with laughter and loose-boned ease -- until he remembered again. He almost wrenched his neck whipping around to bite, but Takajin was gone like a ghost each time and Kakashi was dizzy enough.
The dead air was thick with cigarette smoke, like breathing underwater. It made him light-headed. Dragged cloying claws through poison-seared, newly burning lungs.
Takajin rested his chin on Kakashi's shoulder. "Do you like yourself?" he murmured.
"Don't like you," Kakashi grated back, and shivered when fingers slid down the back of his mask, resting against his spine. The cloth was sweat-soaked, clinging.
"That's good," Takajin said amiably, like Kakashi had just complimented his cooking. "I like to know when I'm doing my job right. When do you think your people will arrive?"
I don't know. The answer caught in Kakashi's teeth, fell apart, and became a long babble about time-sheets, steered by the part of his brain currently engaged in having a full-fledged panic attack. The rest of his brain just went along, supplying dozens of scrambled thoughts until his mouth couldn't keep up. Takajin listened in interested silence, stirring only when Kakashi broke off with an airless groan.
"That's very good. Have you been tortured before?"
"You're not torturing me now," Kakashi pointed out, and wished he could gag himself. Wished he had the leverage to crack his skull against the chair. Wished he could crack Takajin's skull with his bare hands. Wrench every vertebrae out and make them dance--
He was laughing again. Low and gagging, struggling for breath.
"I could torture you," Takajin mused. "Would that make you feel better?"
"It'd be easier." Blood splashed as Kakashi's hands jerked in his bonds, pain flickered distantly. "It's always easier, better than talking, makes you focus--" He choked himself off.
"Questions before or after?"
"Never. You're the worst torturer ever--" The hand left his neck, tightened in his hair, and yanked once. Hot pain jangled in his skull. Kakashi hissed.
"After, then. Or during. Do you have a preference for any particular method?"
"I'd like to rip your face off."
"Fair enough." Takajin leaned back, adjusted that hair-grip until Kakashi's throat was bared to its full extent, and laid a cold metal edge against his temple. "Will a scalping do?Traditionally the face is needed for talking."
Kakashi found words, lost them, found laughter and felt it crackle in his lungs. "Do you know how fast head wounds bleed?" he whispered.
"In intimate detail. How old were you the first time you made someone bleed?"
"Five."
"Good man." The blade flashed and struck. |
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