Kingdom Hearts, Larxene/Axel, electrostimulation
It's watching his reactions that she likes best, he knows. Finding the softest places of a person in order to better twist her claws into them. She lays him out so she can see everything, straddles the bones of his hips, plants her big black boots on either side of his head. He wonders briefly if she'll suffer too, pressed against him like that, but discards the thought. She won't let it; she has no interest in being able to feel anything, no interest in having a heart.
He doesn't know if that makes her more or less worrying then the rest of them.
When she takes his chin in her hand and pushes his face up, he can feel the static building on her skin, can almost taste the bite of ozone. Her face is flushed with the blood she doesn't have (and there's a thing to think about), her eyes wide and focused. Anticipation, and something more. Ah, well.
"Do your worst, sweetheart," he says. Sets his teeth and grins.
When she spits, it's little more than sparks, and her hands against his skin are growing warmer and warmer. "Well," she says, all innocence except for her eyes, "if you say so."
It knocks the breath from him, makes him shudder and shake and gasp through his teeth. There's ice in his veins, a sharpness, something so strong that he feels he'll tear apart underneath her. When he twists upwards, she pushes down, rides his contortions. The feel of her seems almost painfully insubstantial in the sick dizzy spaces between the shocks, and despite himself, he groans when they stop.
He can barely hear anything over the grinding of his teeth and the singing of blood rushing through his head, but being in the Organization for so long has taught him to recognise the sound of dangerous smugness from a mile away. When he cracks an eye open she's grinning down at him, all sparkwhite teeth and terrible playfulness.
She leaves trails of electric heat along his skin as she drags the hand on his shoulder downward, slides the hand on his side upward. His breath hitches for a moment when they settle together over the center of his chest, and when the shock rips through him, he can almost feel it arcing, hot and lively and bright, in the empty space where his heart should be.
When she stops, he scrapes everything he has left together to casually open his eyes in lazy half-lids and say "Is that all you've got?"
The slap to the face as she stomps away somehow manages to sting more than the electricity, but it's worth it.