Disclaimer: I'm the proud new owner of an Invader Zim Extras House Set, but other than that. . .
Author's Note: I shouldn't listen to Bon Jovi. It gives me too many ideas. XD This one was inspired by the fantastic song "You Give Love a Bad Name." (Which I actually feel fits Inu-Yasha and Kikyo more perfectly, but still. . . this plot line was too much fun to pass up. XD XD XD)
Anyway, I guess you could call this a sequel to "Fly in a Web," but if you haven't read FiaW, it doesn't matter. This can stand alone.
Warnings: Sadistic Zim, torture, slash.
Dedication: To Zena. You smell like Xmas. But I guess I'll always smell like meat, ne?
"Oh, there's no where to run. . .
No one can save me—the damage is done!
Shot through the heart, and you're to blame—
You give love a bad name. (A bad name!)
I played my part and you played your game—
You give love a bad name!
Yeah, you give love. . .
A BAD NAME."
— "You Give Love a Bad Name," Bon Jovi
"Wake up, Dib."
And the darkness lifted.
Groaning weakly, the boy felt his lashes flutter, awareness slowly returning. It was a fuzzy, hesitant consciousness. . . but wakefulness nonetheless.
An unwanted wakefulness.
"—!" The child convulsed involuntarily, eyes snapping open, breath rushing from his lungs. What was this? What was goin—Oh, God, he hurt. . . ! He hurt all over, an agonizing hurt unlike that which he had ever experienced. It was sharp, persisting, real. A pain nearly powerful enough to send him back into the world of blackness.
But his captor wouldn't allow that.
"Oh, no," a sweet whisper sounded from somewhere above him. "Not again, Dib-monster. No, no, not again. Did you think I'd let you off that easily?" A soft click.
Blood and spit flew from Dib's mouth as an unexpected jolt of power blasted through his system; branching from the thin metal probes jammed into his temples. The stench of singed flesh drifted lazily into the air.
Laugher rang. A cruel laughter; crackling from the shadows above him, a mechanical whirling joining the sound. And down, down, down—down came Zim. Until he floated; hovered; dangled mere inches before the human—suspended by his beloved spider legs.
Those legs. . .
The horror of his situation tore through Dib's system like a bolt of lightning, leaving his blood as cold as ice. But it made sense. . . the ache, the agony, the feel of slippery liquid swirling down his body—this inability to move.
His palms and feet had been lacerated, pierced through by the invader's extended limbs.
A small sob wedged itself in the boy's throat, horror clutching his racing heart. Zim chuckled, maroon eyes flashing through the gloom.
"Mmm. . . realized the danger now, have you?" the alien purred, lifting a silvery tool to his lips—snake-like tongue slithering over the cool metal. A smirk grew on his pale green face. "Yes. . . I've thought about this for a long time, Dib-beast. And I have come to the decision that I've taken the wrong path with YOU. No more will I try to annihilate you with the rest. No, you deserve SPECIAL attention. Or else you'll slip through my fingers again, won't you. . . ?" The little irken laughed softly, slowly closing the gap between them—closer, closer, closer. . . until Dib could see himself in Zim's large ruby pools; the sound of his voice echoing endlessly in the child's ear.
The child tried to swallow. "Wha. . . what are you going to do?" he demanded, attempting a defiant glare. Amusement was the only retort he received; Zim's smile lengthened. "As I believe the saying goes," the alien breathed, tongue lightly lashing Dib's frozen ear, "that's for me to know. . ."
The weapon glittered above him for a moment. . .
And then came slashing down.
"—" The boy gave a horrible spasm, a white-hot flash of pain ensnaring his senses— the skin of his cheek, throat, and chest easily giving away. A metallic taste poisoned his mouth; he spat the slime in the alien's direction. "Why don't you just kill me?" he shrieked, growing louder as he tried to free himself, mutating his hands in the process. "C'mon, ZIM! Do it! Just kill me!"
His captor blinked, feigning innocence as he brought himself even lower— straddling the human's thin waist. "Kill you. . . ?" A delicious, agonizing heat erupted from somewhere deep inside the prisoner at the action; an inferno identical to the one that Zim seemed anxious to strengthen. "Kill you. . . ! Now why would I do THAT?" In a single, noiseless stroke, the tool had ripped through Dib's shirt and first layer of skin. The small invader moved to make another incision, one closer to his heart—
When he came to an abrupt stop, leaning so far forward that their foreheads met.
"Why would I let you go. . . ?" the Irken breathed, fingers darting out to play in the 'paint' his actions had called forth; skin safe from the moisture underneath the layers of his latex gloves, "And why would you want me to? I thought you had always wanted to see an alien dissection." Zim nonchalantly traced a pattern on his captive's chest, barely able to keep his wicked glee contained. "And I have such a strange 'alien' to have FUN with, today. . ."
Dib paled, chest rising and falling rapidly, suddenly frightened of those wide scarlet eyes. "Fun—? You call THIS fun—!"
Zim's toothy grin glistened through the dimness of the foreign lab. "Of course. So much more fun than killing you. . . possibly because I could never do that."
Perhaps he saw the shock that lit the boy's face, perhaps not. Either way, the alien continued with a note of disgusted need in his voice. "No, I'd miss THIS too much. This cat and mouse, this hide and seek, this game of tag. . . so instead, I'll take you down with me—tear you open, rearrange your insides, find what makes you tick. Who knows, maybe your dissection will provide information that will help me in my mission." An evil quirk widened his smirk another notch. "Or maybe not. Either way. . . I'll never let you go."
The boy choked on a gasp as the invader pushed harshly down: their hips grinding together so forcefully that Dib could feel his pelvis bruise. "You're— you're insane. . . !" he whimpered, trying vainly to breathe as more shiny 'toys' appeared in the invader's hands, each more deadly than the next.
"Insane. . . ?" Zim considered this for a moment, raking his nails hungrily down the human's raw skin. But the in the end, the accusation didn't phase him. In fact, he chuckled quite readily, legs tightening around Dib's. "I could be," he agreed quietly, "I very well could be. . ."
There was an unexpected second of silence; a pause; as the Irken stared piercingly down at his new play-thing— mouth lingering directly above the child's own. "You're such a vile, rancid, short little being," the alien then softly murmured, a sadistic twinkle in his eye. "Your entire people stink of hatred, grease, grime. And meat. . . you smell like meat." Another hushed moment hung in the air, followed by a curious snarl. "I wonder if you taste like it, too," he hissed voraciously —
Pressing a harsh kiss to Dib's lips.
Time stopped. All was quiet. Surprise was an understatement. Then the dissection equipment in the alien's hands returned to life; ripping into the boy even as their tongues were entwined.
It continued. The caressing, the touching, the probing, the tearing, the cutting, the lusting. . . until neither could process the boy's screams anymore; they grew monotonously repetitive. And though the sounds continued to ring through their ears, no one paid them any heed.
Except for when they were particularly excruciating.
Then Zim smiled.