Title: Flow Morphia Slow

Author: quillian91

Summery:When the 'Candyman' fails to show up one rainy night, and Riff Raff begins to suffer withdrawal symptoms, the one he despises decides to take care of him. Riff has every reason to be wary…

Disclaimer: I do not own Rocky Horror Picture Show, nor do I own the characters featured in this Fanfiction. They are only being used for amusement and pleasure.

Riff Raff was pacing.

He very rarely felt the need to pace. Impatience was usually beyond him, and pacing was something he never quite understood. The need to walk back and forth, back and forth in worry or anxiety. He had seen people do it many times. Columbia would pace for hours on end, wearing down the carpets before a date, or when she was stressing over her latest breakup. His own sister, Magenta paced occasionally, only when the Master made her too angry beyond words.

And yet Riff Raff… he never paced. He never felt the need, and nor did he understand the urge to do so. What sort of pull did it have that made normally relaxed bodies tread back and forth?

Perhaps, he thought, it was the simplicity of it. The desire to be in motion, to keep up with the racing thoughts that went along with such a motion. When ones mind was moving at an unbelievable speed, one can't sit still or the world began to spin out of control. The needed to try to catch up to the brain, to attempt to race after it, hoping against hope that you would beat it to the finish line.

But the mind cant concentrate on anything but words and images that dashed by to quickly to comprehend. One couldn't concentrate on they're body enough to do something useful or productive. Walking was an instinct programmed into the body from infancy. It was a basic, primal instinct, used to take us from one place to another. Used to run, to race…

Pacing… it was your attempt to rush things along. When you are late for an important engagement, you quicken your speed. When you are in a rush, you run toward your destination. However, your mind, so hurried as it is, can't decide which way that destination is. You can't choose one way to go, and so, you pace, back and forth, trying to move along what you have no control over.

And Riff Raff, who was pacing in front of the large window of his chambers, was indeed trying to hurry something he eagerly awaited, something he craved, something he needed more than anything.

The tapping of his shoes made him edgy, making him almost jump at the noise, and yet, he couldn't stop. He had tried to sit down, to pull out a book and take deep breaths, but in seconds, he was in front of the window, peering through the darkness and rain, and yes… pacing.

It was time, he realized, a wave of relief washing over him as he glanced over at the dusty Grandfather Clock. Time to make his way into the raging storm to await the car that would shortly be pulling up.

Riff Raff made his way down the stairs of the silent Castle, nearly tiptoeing in an attempt to stop the old steps from creaking, giving away his presence. His Master was working on his newest creation, a man who he was building. Rocky, he had fondly named the plans. Columbia had enquired about the name, and only got vague innuendos about how the name fit the description. It did fit; after all, this 'creature' was merely to be a sex toy for Dr. Frank. It was only expected that this custom built man would be more…well built… than normal men.

Still, he didn't want to disturb his Master. Riff Raff had stated that he was retiring for the evening, claiming to feel ill, and the Frank despised dishonesty from those who worked for him despite the fact that he lied nearly all the time.

Riff was content at the fact that the only one who could catch him would be the Master. Magenta and the earth groupie, Columbia, were away from the Castle this weekend. A Three Day Spa trip, Columbia's idea, of course. Magenta went along with it, wanting to get a chance to relax. It had been a tense atmosphere around the Castle lately, with Frank's mood swings unpredictable due to the frustration over his Creature.

He almost wished that he could join his Sister and her human friend. The normally damp and dark Castle seemed abnormally oppressive without the presence of his dearest beloved Magenta. And even the absence of the bright and cheerful Columbia was sorely missed.

Though he was somewhat grateful that he would be alone this evening. Pacing was not something he wanted anyone to see him be doing. He never paced, his serious and quiet behavior not permitting it. Loosing control like this was humiliating and degrading for him. If he was to loose control like this, he wanted to be alone. He refused to let his beloved sister worry. She would not understand his lapse of control and her normally lusting gaze would instead be filled with worry and concern. Expressions such as those did not belong on such a beautiful face…

The door creaked open loudly, and Riff twitched. Glancing back at into the Castle, he held his breath to see if his Master had heard it. The sounds the experimenting continued without pause, and air rushed from his lungs with relief.

The storm was a fierce one this night, and the furry of wind sent his long greasy locks swirling in the air. The tails of his coat were whipping at his legs as he made his way down the long driveway towards the large rusty gates.

Riff Raff had done this too many times to need a clock. The car bearing his current craving should be nearly here, and soon the headlights would shine brightly in this dark gloom. He didn't need a clock, experience told him that within a moment the car would be here.

It had taken less time for him to sneak his way out of the castle, due to the absence of Magenta and Columbia. However, the wind had slowed him down enough to make up for that.

As he stood by the gates, Riff resisted pacing, knowing that salvation would soon be approaching. The thick wad of bills rested in the inside pocked of his tailcoat, prepared to be exchanged for that sweet sensation….

He couldn't stop his foot from tapping impatiently on the muddy slick ground, the sound of it being drowned in the raging wind. Any moment… any second, those headlights would gleam and he would be saved…

But they never came, nor did the vehicle they were attached to.

He was late. He had never, ever been late before. Always right on time, 9pm on the dot, the car would pull up to the gate so the exchange could happen. Never, not once, had that car been late.

A sense of dread rose him, increasing the anxiety he was already having. It was time for his next dose in a half hour, and already he was beginning to suffer the withdrawal symptoms. Panic, edginess, pacing, racing thoughts…

Late… he was late…

Riff clenched his fist tightly, taking deep breaths. The weather was the cause of the delay, no doubt. He would be here in a few moments, plenty of time for him to make his way back to his chambers and experience that orgasmic sense of euphoria that always came with the new dose.

And the car… never came.

Rain beat down on him, soaking his tailcoat and all the layers of clothing beneath it. His hair was heavy with water and flapped drunkenly in the wind. Riff's breath misted in the air and he stared down the road like if he stared hard enough, the car would appear.

It didn't.

Riff Raff began to pace.

A long while he waited, until he began to shake with both panic and cold, jumping at every noise, every tiny little sound. Every time, he looked at the road, begging anything that was listening that those headlights would peer through the storm, a beacon of hope.

Slowly, he began to realize that the car wasn't coming. Something had to have happened to it. Perhaps it had gotten stuck in the mud. Or there was a flood blocking the rode, or it had crashed into a ditch. Nothing he could do, no amount of pacing, would bring that car up to these gates…

Terror was rising up in him and he dizzy made his way towards the looming doors of the Castle. His mind was blessedly numb. No more racing, he thought. The race was over, all the runners having tripped over a stone and snapped they're necks.

It was a testament to the fear he felt that Riff Raff didn't even bother to silence the booming, creaking doors as he let himself into the main foyer. The sound echoed loudly through the Castle. His Master was sure to have heard that, and for once, Riff didn't care. This terrible of a night couldn't get any worse, and the days following would be just as bad. Let it all come clean, let the punishments be dealt, the whips cracked, and let this madness end…

The sound of the experimenting had stopped as few floors above, for a few seconds there was absolute silence. The electric buzz of the lift began and as Riff leaned against the Entrance Doors, he saw it lower. Slowly it descended, the man aboard sinking into view. The doors metal doors opened and the inhabitant stepped out.

Heals clicked loudly in the silence as the only two occupants of the Castle stared at one another. One of them, a hunchbacked servant, drenched and dripping water, his eyes wide with panic, his face a pasty sheet white. The other, a tall lab coated man, wearing large high-healed platform shoes and fishnets, his delicate face made up and his eyes narrowed. The pearl necklace glinted in the dim light.

"Riff Raff." The voice was arousing, as always, and yet held a definite bite to it. Silk over steal. One could easily be mislead by the rich, smooth feel of it, forgetting what lay beneath the striking body and beaded corsets.

"… Master." Came the soft acknowledgement, almost inaudible to the ears.

Dr. Frank-N-Furter examined his wet servant with a careful eye. The puddle growing on the floor and the sound of dripping water, as well as the soaking attire proved that the man had been in the god-awful storm that was raging beyond the walls of the Castle.

He cleared his throat, the sound echoing loudly, and Riff Raff jumped, startled.

"Riff Raff… I thought you said you had retired to your chambers… Ill. Forgive me, but were my ears mistaken?" They both knew that his ears were just fine. This… toying was usual. Never cut right to the point. Build it up, stoke the suspense, the anticipation…

Riff Raff looked uneasy, and somewhat green. He shifted, his fingers shaking slightly. Sunken eyes darted around, and he clenched his trembling fingers desperately.

"N...No Master." Whether from the cold or from the nausea, Riff stuttered slightly. A mixture of both, most likely. Withdrawal was rearing its ugly head. As an assistant to a brilliant scientist, Riff Raff knew quite a bit about drugs and they're symptoms. He had read about this particular one before trying it the first time, naturally glimpsing over the effects, uses, quantities, and formulas. Withdrawal was something he hadn't paid much attention too. There was no need. This was to be a onetime use thing, a celebratory indulgence to welcome him to Earth. One time use didn't bring about withdrawal, only addiction.

And he was addicted. The 'one time use' became a two-time use, and then a thrice time use, the amount increasing with the weeks. Now, two years later, he was beginning to regret it.

Frank frowned at this uncommon behavior from his handyman and assistant. It was hardly behavior he would expect from his servant. The sallow hunchbacked man was always muted and impassive. He was a mysterious person, only speaking the bare minimum.

Frank took a step towards Riff Raff, taking in the obvious trembling and jerky motions as the Transylvanian glanced at the staircase in desperation. 'Desperation of what…?' Frank thought with interest. He always did love a good puzzle, and this uncommon conduct of his handyman was aching to be solved.

"I'm sure…" Frank paused here for dramatic effect, "…that storms only increase sickness, am I correct?"

It was getting dangerous, Riff realized, cold sweat breaking out his forehead. Frank's temper lately, when stirred, was incredibly violent. A simple mistake could lead to shouting and a small misunderstanding could immediately lead to whipping. His frustration and impatience over Rocky caused his emotions to be unstable. There were several kinks in the plans for the design, and if there was one thing Frank hated above all else, it was things not going according to plan.

Still, there was little Riff Raff could do now but cower under his Masters unrelenting stare. Both knew that this little conversation was only the Scientist's way of toying with his pray to relieve a bit of stress. Inevitably, the punishment would come as well as the cruel words, and Riff wasn't sure he could take it this time.

He was freezing, soaked to the bone and dripping wet. The Castle was only a bit warmer than the storm outside. His stomach was churning, and several times he had to swallow back the bile that was rising in his throat. And though he was cold, he was sweating profusely. His fingers twitched and his body was shaking. He would have paced, but his legs felt too shaky…

Riff Raff closed his eyes slightly, swallowing again and nearly choking on the panic that seemed to be trying to explode. His control was wavering and he didn't even bother to answer the man in front of him. It was futile to do so. His Master would have already seen this obvious sign of weakness and that was enough to satisfy the Transvestite Scientist for the moment.

And the need… oh, that craving was burning him from the inside out. More than ever he needed it…needed the release, the rush of pleasure, the orgasmic sense of liberation that followed. It was painful, this desire, and he was powerless against it. He had to have it or he was nothing. All that his beloved Sister loved about him, his personality, his detached manner, everything that made him him, would be gone…

"Riff…" his Master's voice said, drawing nearer. The platform heals clicked ominously in the main foyer. "Riffy…" The pet name was pulled into use. That rare, disgusting name Frank had gifted him, only used when he was deeply in his Masters favor… or when he was extremely out of it. He heard the word used more often with the sound of a whip than with an expression of tenderness.

He jumped jerkily as a hand was pressed to his forehead. Already pressed against the large main doors, he was powerless against his Master's will.

"Hmm… Perhaps you really are ill…" Frank's voice clucked like a mother hen. The hand drifted to rest on his cheek while another slinked around to the small of his back, pushing him forwards slightly so that Riff stumbled. All this 'concern' was obviously fake. Although Frank could be quite loving and gentle, he was a very sinister and manipulative man; his actions usually came with another motive in mind. Sometimes, very rarely, Frank actually showed affection for someone, such as his Creature, and on some occasion, Columbia and Magenta.

He hated this. This terrible display of emotion… this revolting, pathetic show of weakness. He could feel himself being manipulated this very moment, and usually, he didn't allow it, retreating before he was in too deep. But now… now he was too tired, too worn out to fight his Master.

Frank led him towards the elevator, steadying Riff Raff as his legs jerked slightly with each trembling step. It seemed as if all control over his limbs was rapidly being lost. Leaning against the cool metal of the elevator cage, he closed his eyes wearily.

It was long past his scheduled dose... A few hours, at least. How long had he been standing out in the storm, he couldn't be quite certain. It seemed like an eternity, but he hadn't exactly been counting, and he hadn't thought to look at the clock in the foyer. Still… The next few days would be terrible. Riff wanted to so badly to scream, to sob, or to just lie down and die.

"Come now, Riffy…" The repulsive pet name was in use again and Riff Raff couldn't tell if he was in his Master's favor or whether this was just another little scheme. Both were likely…

The hand on the small of his back hadn't wandered once, as if making sure he couldn't try to escape. Though the touch was quite gentle, it carried the threat of being able to grab him in a flash if indeed he tried to break free. It was that hand that bothered Riff Raff even more so than the curtained off area of the lab he was being herded towards.

There was never any mention of it, but everyone noticed. It was hard not too. Whereas Frank quite frequently made advances on Columbia and Magenta, not once, ever, did he touch Riff Raff. No more than necessary anyways. Slapping him, kicking him, brushing past him, rarely anything other than violent and cruel contact. Perhaps he was too repulsive for the Master. Perhaps his Master quite simply hated him. Whatever the reason, the passionate moaning that often filled the castle was never coming from Riff's bedroom.

Frank guided him through the large empty lab, past the operating table containing rolls or blueprints, papers filled with complex formulas, and jars filled with organs suspended in fluid. The curtain was pulled up, revealing a dark, somber looking bedroom. Although this was his bedroom, he rarely slept here, preferring to share a bed with Magenta or Columbia.

The black drapery covered the walls, flickering with shadows from the many brightly burning candles. That ridiculous stained glass window was momentarily lit up as a large flash of lighting and thunder boomed outside. The bed… That luxurious bed that had been built to occupy more than the regular king-size, looked quite inviting.

All Riff wanted to do was sink down into the soft folds and hide from all of this. He longed for the familiar comforts of his own room, but escape was impossible. Frank, even wearing his highest heels tonight, would easily be able to catch him. He was at an extreme disadvantage. He could hardly walk from this shaking, nevertheless run.

However, when Frank gave him one of those analyzing stares, similar to the ones he gave the plans in the lab, Riff Raff couldn't help but shiver. These looks were never promising, and to be on the receiving end was less than comforting.

His stomach lurched, and clenching his eyes shut tightly, Riff worked on trying to calm his body. The shaking had only increased. The nausea was threatening to overcome him. His legs were jerking slightly, as were his hands and eyes. Trying to deny that this was happening was futile. He was too far into it now, and it would only grow worse.

All thoughts of Frank were flung from his mind. Need was burning in his veins instead of blood… the wanting… the craving for it. He had to have it. It was the only thing he had. Anything that could be called likeable about him was due to it. Nothing would be the same, and although he was less than fond of his current living conditions, it was so very preferable next to the chaos that was soon to come.

And his sister… Oh his beautiful, beloved sister... She would end up hating him, hating him as much as he hated himself. She would hate that he had become so pathetic and weak. Hate that he had lied to her. Hate that everything she loved about him was fake. He couldn't blame her. No, he never could put any blame on his lovely sibling. If she hated him, it was his fault. He had misled her for so long. When she found out, she would utterly despise him. And it was just what he deserved.

He wished he had never taken that damn Earth drug that night, shortly after they arrived to earth. A celebration for a successful arrival to the planet Earth, he had called it. Frank was already involved in his own celebrations one floor above. The lust filled moaning carried down the stairs and through the heavy wooden doors, a testament as to how those celebrations were going. Riff Raff had tried one at random, wishing to see what it was that was being so highly praised.

His beautiful Magenta had joined him as well, that one night, trying another Human drug… she hadn't taken to it nearly as well, and was disgusted that humans ever invented it. Riff had made noises of agreement, before taking her in his arms, and nothing more had been said.

Still, three days after found him remembering the pleasant feeling, the calming, sensual mist on his senses. Surely if he finished up the meager supply… and then he would be out, and that would be that. He would forget the drug and its effects and go back to the way things were before.

And that had been how it was the first few weeks. After every dose, he promised that he would stop. However, he couldn't make himself, and had even ordered more after the first supply ran out. Magenta, noticing changes in him, had remarked that he seemed more content than usual (Impossible to miss, as his disposition had gone from depressingly miserable to wretchedly cheerless). She said that it warmed her heart to see him the slightest bit happier, and that she had worried about him for a long time.

Worry his sister… the idea was unthinkable. He would rather die than to have her feel any sort of sorrow. He had been reluctant to quit already, and after sharing her thoughts with him, he had been utterly loathed to…

And now, almost two years later, it was blowing up in front of his eyes. Oh, how she was despise him. She would worry, she would cry, she would be livid… all because of him.

Riff Raff's thoughts came to a sudden halt as fingers took hold of the lapels of his tailcoat. Eyes snapping open, he instinctively took a few steps backwards out of reach. The back of his knees collided softly with the bed, and that small jolt cause him to abruptly sit on the silk bedcovers.

"M-Master…!" His voice shook.

Frank eyed his servant sternly.

"Riff Raff…" He started in an authoritative tone, clearly enjoying this situation far too much. "You are dripping wet, you are shivering, and you are quite clearly sick. As I am the only one here, I am to take care of you…"

The smooth, rich voice had escalated from the firm attitude and into the seductive purr that it was commonly at. The cross-dressed scientist continued.

"Being in this sopping clothing will certainly not help you get any better."

Panicked eyes widened, and Frank smirked deeply, coming closer to the bed as the pathetic, trembling figure impulsively inched away. The thrill of the chase… it intrigued him and definitely stirred something in him. Seeing his usually stiff and withdrawn servant reduced to this cowering, soaked form gave him a rush that could almost be described to the feeling of making love. The power that filled him… oh yes, he was savoring this. A cat and mouse game…

Except the cat would nurture the frightened mouse for a while, and just when the mouse thinks that maybe the cat is not so bad after all… well… Pounce. Frank reached out a well-manicured hand and toyed with the wet fabric of the black coat. He just couldn't wait for the pounce…

To Be Continued...