Netherworld 9 Title: Netherworld Fandom: Galactik Football Characters: Rocket, Sinedd, Tia, D'Jok, Warren Rating: R Summary: Time for a change of tactics. Male/male sex, violence, dub con, mindfuck and two very unstable boys in very close physical proximity. Rocket x Sinedd, Rocket x Tia mentioned.
Netherworld: Winning Hand
“If you’re trying to be scary, you fail.” Sinedd said (lied), thoroughly unimpressed by Rocket’s statement of facts. He knew he had nightmares. The fact that he screamed in the night was one of the reasons that he’d been allotted a single hotel room while all the other Shadows players shared rooms. He hadn’t thought about how it might affect Rocket, mostly because Rocket had already shared a room with him when Sinedd had been in the Snow Kids, so Rocket was already aware of that peculiarity of Sinedd’s. Sinedd had accepted the fact that nobody came when he screamed. It put him at a disadvantage now, but so what? It was better this way. It meant that he wouldn’t be tempted to scream for help like some scared little girl.
Defiantly, he glared at Rocket, even as Rocket continued to apply ice to his ankle (and why was Rocket doing that? Did Rocket feel guilty about having twisted it, or was Rocket just trying to make Sinedd relax so that the next blow would hurt even more?).
Rocket’s speech hadn’t scared Sinedd; having his broken ankle twisted had.
Sinedd’s lips formed such a narrow line as he spat, pupils huge with pain,“Now get off my bed.”
Score: 2,2
“No.” Rocket patted the end of the towel, and gazed at Sinedd. The other boy was still pale, pain and fear having sapped what little color he had, and the red smear of Rocket’s blood over Sinedd’s mouth stood out starkly against Sinedd’s skin. Sinedd hadn’t even tried to wipe it off; Rocket wondered if Sinedd was even aware of the fact that it was there.
He reached up and touched his own mouth, bringing his tongue out so that he could press his fingertips against the sore wound where Sinedd’s teeth had sunk in and drawn blood. His smile was very red, and dangerously cocksure. “The game’s not over yet.”
“What game?” Sinedd asked, exasperated. His hand strayed towards the pillows again as he tried to unobtrusively shift away from Rocket. “There is no game. You already won.”
“No.” Rocket repeated. Sinedd was lying. Or he didn’t know that they were playing. But of course he had to know, because how could he not feel the same gnawing sense of incompletion that Rocket had? He’d been in the Sphere with Rocket. He must know that it hadn’t truly finished there.
Rocket’s move now.
A quick lunge forwards, and Rocket straddled Sinedd over the waist, holding him down by catching both of Sinedd’s wrists in one of his hands, the other hand resting over Sinedd’s throat. Pain dulled Sinedd’s reflexes, making him fatigued, and all he could do was kick Rocket once Rocket was on him. One ankle was broken, putting it out of commission, but he could knee Rocket in the back with the other leg, twist the leg to the side and slam the side of his foot against Rocket’s shoulderblades. “GET OFF ME! Don’t touch me!”
He wasn’t hyperventilating. He wasn’t. But he was breathing faster than he should’ve, angry horror a poisonous twist through him that made his stomach curl. He hated being at a disadvantage. He hated the fact that Rocket was on top of him and he couldn’t do anything about it and he didn’t know what Rocket was planning or even why. It felt like being trapped. It felt like Rocket’s weight was crushing all the air out of him, the mattress beneath him suddenly unyielding.
Sinedd hated it when his life wasn’t in his control; he fought to get Rocket off him, not ceasing in his assault on the other’s back even as his leg tired.
Score: 2, 3, Rocket.
“If I’d won,” And Rocket brushed his hand up Sinedd’s throat to his cheek, with the same deliberate slowness that he’d use when plucking a flower from a thorned bush, “You wouldn’t flinch away from me.”
His hand came to rest on Sinedd’s cheek and a moment later, Sinedd twisted his head to a side and bit down savagely on the inside of Rocket’s wrist. Rocket was still wearing his half-fingered gloves; Sinedd got a mouthful of cloth for his trouble that made him spit and turn to snarl up at Rocket, “You broke my ankle, then twisted it. And now you’ve pinned me down and won’t let me go. Why should I have any reason to trust you to touch me? Or why should I even want it? ”
“I also helped you get your boot off. And I iced your ankle, as I said I would.” Rocket pointed out, wrist stinging from where Sinedd’s teeth had sunk into it despite the gloves’ protection. “I didn’t want to have to twist your ankle, Sinedd. But you needed the demonstration. And I wasn’t the one to break it; you landed badly and broke it yourself.”
The fact that Rocket’s last two sentences were true didn’t improve Sinedd’s mood. Suspiciously, he continued to glower at Rocket. “Needed a demonstration of what? The fact that you’ve lost it?”
He punctuated his question with another kick to Rocket’s back.
“Stop kicking me.” Rocket said as he braced himself. This was annoying. Sinedd might not be able to hurt him properly, but he was still fighting. And even though Rocket had Sinedd trapped under him for the moment – and how good it did feel to have Sinedd so helpless – that would do him absolutely no good unless he could figure out a way to get Sinedd’s clothes off him. One leg was bared from the knee downwards, ankle gently wrapped in an iced-towel, but that was it. Sinedd still had his uniform on, and Rocket wasn’t even sure how to get the one-piece like bodysuit off Sinedd and knew he wouldn’t be able to do it if Sinedd kept fighting.
What was he supposed to do now? He couldn’t just keep sitting on Sinedd. Eventually, it’d get boring. Or it’d be morning, and someone would come in looking for Sinedd.
“I’ll stop if you get off me!” Sinedd kicked Rocket again, feeling the jolt run through Rocket’s body as his knee made impact halfway up Rocket’s spine. His ankle was starting to feel numb from the ice, and every second that Rocket stayed on top was one that Sinedd started to seriously consider trying to make Rocket scream.
People might not come running if he yelled, but if Rocket did? Warren’s reaction had proven that Rocket getting injured was a different prospect to Sinedd being injured.
But at the same time, if he fought too hard and hurt Rocket…
He’d get in trouble. Sinedd had been punished enough at the orphanage for hurting more popular kids when he fought back against being picked on. He wasn’t idiot enough to be willing to get stuck in that situation again. But he wasn’t just going to lie still and let Rocket do whatever he wanted.
His arms were pinned so for now, Sinedd couldn’t do more than kick Rocket. But he kicked as hard as he could and took a triumphant delight in watching Rocket flinch then shift his weight to try to keep Sinedd pinned.
“Do you want me to break your other ankle?” The threat slipped out of Rocket’s mouth before he was aware of saying it. It was foreign; it was perfect. It was just like in the Sphere, when he spoke without thinking, when he let his subconscious take over and say the things that he’d never let himself think as a Snow Kid.
The threat worked; Sinedd tensed up and stopped kicking, eyes sharp with hate.
Score: 2,4, Rocket
“Good.” Rocket breathed a sigh of relief, even though the locked-rigid muscles of Sinedd’s body made his body seem as if it were sculpted from marble, something inhuman and unreal. To counter that, he dropped his head downwards and traced his tongue almost lovingly along the clean line of Sinedd’s jaw. Sinedd tasted like skin, clean and cool, like Akillian snow but with something different mixed in that Rocket could only attribute to the Smog. It tasted like the Smog did during matches, when the Shadows disappeared right in front of the Snow Kids and left them in a haze of black – but on Sinedd’s skin it was weaker, drowned out by the boy who controlled it.
A nip just under Sinedd’s ear, where the jawline blended into the neck, and Rocket relished the feel of Sinedd shuddering (with distaste? With pleasure? Did Rocket even care which it was?) under him.