His defiance, the fire in his eyes, the way the muscles of his chained arms still flexed in preparation when I came near… it was beautiful. The taste of his hot flesh, the feel of his bare body, fueled by a hunger unlike any I've ever felt, one I have long stopped trying to fight. Never satisfied, I spent most of my time with him.
Verbally degrading him, glaring, teasing, scratching, biting, licking, pressing close, yanking on his chains, making sure he would not be able to move from his kneeling position with his back to the wall. I had to abuse him. I had to take advantage of him, had to prove my dominance over him however I could.
Yet through it all, despite the countless cuts and bruises, the pain that must plague him every second and the knowledge that there was no escape, he will not give in to me.
When I touch him, he does not relax for even a second, those amber eyes glaring at me through imperfect vision, as I had disposed of his glasses long ago.
When I force our lips together to conquer his pitiful human mouth, it's just another battle. He will bite, and I will be forced to do the same, attacking lips, gums, teeth, tongue, until we have to separate for breath, our mouths filled with the thick taste of blood. His was salty and metallic, delicious despite how it burned on my tongue. He claimed mine was sweet, and wouldn't hesitate to lean forward and lick it from the corners of my mouth, and I let him. To anyone else, our sadomasochism would most likely seem extreme. To us, it barely sufficed. Oh, how we craved the taste of each other's blood, sweat, and saliva.
And his groans… oh Irk, nothing can compare to the sounds he makes when I take him completely, when I make him mine in the most intimate of ways. He fights and shows his teeth in a wonderfully feral manner, but there's no denying the small groans I hear instead of growls. The way he moves, forcing his weak body to stay steady as he responds to my direction, to my ultimate control… I love it.
But he will not tell me what I want to hear.
The words come so easily as I kneel in front of him, watching him hold himself upright despite his obvious need to just go limp against the wall. His eyelids are heavy with exhaustion, his jaw bone more defined than before; his entire face had a gaunt appearance to it. I fed him just enough to keep him alive, no more.
I say my half quietly. "Why continue to fight? Give in to me, and I'll let you out of these chains. You can be my slave, and your only shackles will be mental ones."
He looks me in the eye, chin raised. His neck is chafed from the metal band around it, dried blood underneath it. His smile is cold and sadistic. "You will never own my mind," Dib says. "You may have my body… but my mind is mine."
I give him an equally dark smile. "Then I will leave you to think about your choices. You can die in here for all I care."
He just smirks defiantly.
Someday. Someday, he will admit my superiority. I will release him from his bonds, and he will lower himself to the ground in submission, my foot in his back, as my obedient slave. But until then, I will hold him prisoner. Besides… I have come to enjoy the sight of him bound and helpless, the sole property of Zim.