disclaimer: Spirit and Stein belong to Atsushi Ōkubo. other than sheer fun, I have no profits from using them.
beta: Silent Epiphany
warning: yaoi
AN: the credits for inspiration go to Maroon 5 and their song of the same title, and the general insane feeling that the manga has to it.
there's nothing like 1st person PWP :D I was being subtle for a change (as much subtle as you can get from me), whataya say about that? I enjoyed myself so. hope you will too :)


Dr. Franken Stein. His name is even more creepy than his dwelling. The austere concrete, cubic building, covered in stitches, surrounded by leafless trees and constant darkness gives any passerby the feeling of madness flowing in the air, ready to consume them. Not that there are many people brave or crazy enough to venture into this area. Which one I am, I wonder.

I can't think of any other name more appropriate for this man. He's a scientist and his own experimental subject all in one. Good enough to be called the best meister to ever graduate from the DWMA, insane enough to put a screw in his head...

The man I can't seem to be able to get out of my mind. He's millimetres away.

I can feel his hot breath against the skin on my neck. He runs his tongue along the vein pulsing under the surface making my blood run a bit faster. Then there is a kiss. And a bite. A quiet hiss escapes my parted lips as his sharp teeth threaten to tear my delicate skin.

My head starts to spin. Someone please remind me, what am I doing here again? Wasn't the last time supposed to be the very last time? That's what I told myself. And yet here I am, sitting in this creepy lab-house, on his couch, with him straddling my thighs. We're both half naked already, and I just arrived a few minutes ago. Or so it seems. He's got me precisely where he wants me; the helpless victim, subject to whatever dark whims his twisted, madness-wrought mind can concoct. That didn't take long. Then again, it never does.

I can't comprehend my own actions. If he was a witch I'd be sure he'd put some kind of a spell on me. But he can't do any magic; being his partner for few years, I would've noticed, wouldn't I? Why am I here then? I'm not even into men. Especially not a sadistic maniac whose main goal is to dissect things. I still have scars on my body reminding me of the times when we were living together. The very thought of all the things he must've done to me makes my skin crawl.

But then again, people usually don't go sleeping – repeatedly – with a person who's not of any interest to them, do they? I'm afraid I might have been lying to myself all along.

"You're spacing out, Spirit," he whispers into my ear accusingly.

"I am not."

He's right.

Even if I did go with the flow of my thoughts my body still senses every touch, kiss and bite. Strangely enough, my mind is aware of everything as well. There's no escape from his presence. He's marking me every time, and I'm just glad he's not using a scalpel this time. However, I can't be sure he won't.

"Bad boy. Don't lie to me. You know you're a bad liar," he insists, moving on to nip on my jaw surprisingly gently.

And then he kisses my lips, or more precisely just brushes them with his own. The faintness of the touch heightens my senses as everything in me seeks more, craving him, just the same as it always has.

The acrid smell of tobacco that seems to surround him irritates my nostrils. He knows that I hate it. Maybe that's why we don't share kisses very often.
"Ah…" a short gasp escapes when he bites my lower lip.

"Consider it your punishment."

That's the thing with this man: you never know what you can expect. You can never say you've got him figured out. It's impossible to grasp what's lurking in his head. I'm not even sure if he himself is aware of it all. And I don't think I would want to know even a half of his thoughts either.

He becomes gentle again, tracing my neck down with kisses. He's driving me crazy with all his teasing. Regardless, I can't let myself be swept away, lulled into a false sense of security. At any moment, the warm softness of those kisses could be replaced with the cold, stinging bite of a surgical blade.
Feeling his cold hands run up my sides, I close my eyes. The sensation reminds me that I should resist somehow. I shouldn't let him continue. But...wasn't it me who came here in the first place?

He grips my wrists, moves my arms upwards, and makes them cross behind my head. I can feel the wall behind and hear the soft click. His hands are replaced by even colder metal. That's it. There's no escaping from now on. I know he's smirking even though I'm not looking.

"You're so easy, Spirit," he mocks. "Do you really want me that badly you're not able to show any resistance?"

My eyes reopen, my expression downturn, fists unconsciously clench. I'm about to say something in my defense, but I find myself dumbstruck by the jade of his irises fixed on me. Without the glasses to cover them, from this close, his eyes work like a magnifying glass to his personality. They're daring, insolent, intelligent and always on borderline of madness. I can feel the little insane monster looking at me from behind these orbs, making a cold shiver run down my spine.

"Of course now is too late for that," he smiles seeing my faint try to move my hands. "You really are hopeless. I think you need some higher level of motivation. Let's see..."

He moves to our clothes lying scattered on the floor and grabs my tie. I swallow hard, watching as he nears me again.

What the hell now? Is he going to strangle me with my own tie to see how long can I survive without oxygen? Is this another of his experiments he's gonna use me for? I should've known. I should've escaped while I still could. Or better yet, I should've kept my promise and never come here in the first place. Why didn't I listen to my reason? Why must he be so tempting?

I can see the sadistic gleam in his eyes that I know all too well. He moves to straddle me again and chuckles.

"Oh my, you should see yourself now. You're so pale, your skin contrasts with your bloody hair so beautifully. Oh, did I just say 'bloody'?" he poses a rhetorical question and leans to whisper into my ear. "Are you afraid of me?"

"Why, should I be?" The words leaving my lips are made awkward by a throat suddenly gone dry.

"You're not gonna kill me, are you?" Having said that, I almost instantly bite my tongue; I should know better than to give him ideas.

My lover and torturer bursts out laughing.

"No," he assures me after a few seconds. "Blue skin wouldn't suit you."

Blue skin? Oh, of course. He could kill me and turn me into a zombie. He does things like that. That definitely wouldn't suit me.

"Well then, shall we resume where we stopped?"

Before he's finished talking I can feel the soft material of my tie covering my eyes. So my first dark premonition didn't come true. I breathe a sigh of relief even though I know it's too soon.

With my vision obscured my other senses are forced to compensate. I'm drawn into darkness, unable to anticipate Franken's next move. He sits still, probably searching his sadistic mind for ideas. I can feel his eyes on me, boring holes into my body. I can clearly imagine his mad face while his cold finger traces one of the scars on my stomach, almost as if he wanted to cut it open again. What have I gotten myself into?

Then he disappears. I cannot feel him anymore. In the darkness I'm not able to accurately position things around me; everything melts into one shapeless lump. Everything is him. He surrounds me. His coldness makes me freeze and burn simultaneously. My whole body stays alert.

What's next? What is he going to do to me now? Will he cut me open leaving yet another scar? Will he sew my fingers? Hit me with his wavelength and immobilize me with his sutures?

I try with all my might to catch any sound that would let me figure out his next step but there is just silence. Silence so loud it draws me to madness. My own thoughts scare me. It's a common belief that time is like a straight line that moves us forward every second; that it's not possible to get back to any moment that has passed. I feel quite different now. Like my timeline got knotted. The past, present and future are all mixed up. I wonder if it's this place or him.

There it is: A dull sound of metal hitting concrete. Something must have fallen to the floor. His footsteps stop for a second, probably to pick the thing up, and then he resumes walking towards me.

A metal thing... My imagination immediately gives me images of scalpels and other sharp items. I shiver.

"Fran— ?" I try to speak but my voice is stuck in my throat the moment the metal object touches my chest.

I instinctively try to move backwards, but there is no place to escape or hide. I can feel the thing moving down across my heated skin.

It's blunt. It feels like it's round too.

I let myself relax for a split second but my muscles tense back in an instant. It might as well be the back side of a blade. He's just toying with me, as he always does.

"You're absolutely fascinating," he says with amusement. "Just observing your reactions makes an experiment. I told you, you were a perfect research subject, didn't I?"

"I hate it when you classify me like that," I say in a somewhat sulky voice. "I'm a person, dammit!"

"I know, but I'm a scientist - I can't really help it," he states simply. One hand busies itself with my belt, while the other continues tracing my uncovered flesh with the metal item.

"You've got yourself to blame too. You're like a cornered animal. You know the attack will come eventually, but you don't know when or from which direction precisely. All you can do is to prepare yourself to fight. Your body's tensed..."

As he keeps talking I can feel his hand moving up my thigh. I tense even more, but lean to his touch. I can feel all my muscles – every single fiber – contracting.

"...your blood pressure's high..."

His hand is unzipping my slacks. I can feel his coldness brushing against me for a split second and blood rushes to my head.

"...and you are aroused."

"Don't say obvious things to me," I snap. "How long are you planning to keep me cuffed and blindfolded like this anyway?"

My pants are being taken off.

"As long as necessary," he's not put off one last bit.

My underwear disappears too. My body seems to evaporate in the cool air of the room. I melt into my unshaped surroundings feeling myself being encircled by the contrasting temperature. It strokes me gently trying to force its will into my pulse. I can almost see the air flowing in and out of my lungs, the oxygen molecules flying frantically are being sucked into me, almost making my throat burn. Each one of them is becoming a part of my form, dying in a process. It almost makes me care about them.

"...any objections?" I can hear him asking while the speed of his movement increases.

"Yes," I say without thinking. It seems my mind stopped processing around the time of me talking about blindfolding, and got fixated on this last thought. But when I realize I can feel him less I quickly contradict my last statement. "I mean, no!"

"Yes or no? Make up your mind, Spirit."

"No. No objections. Just don't stop."

I might've sounded a bit too desperate for my liking, but that's not a matter of consideration now.

"Alright then."

I'm squeezed by something cold, but it might as well be my imagination. I'm not able to distinguish such subtle changes. My mind is focused on the rhythm he's giving to my body.

"But don't think I'll be finished with you so quickly," he says.

His voice is thick with madness, yet somehow I don't care. I can see the white light on the horizon of the dark image behind my eyelids. I reach out to touch it. It's so close.

It's so close...

I cannot reach it.

Why?

There is a metal cage restraining me. I'm being held tight, ready to burst, but unable to do so.

It hurts.

"What've you done...?" I ask, breathless, still desperately trying to move past the gate of bliss.

"I told you, not so fast."

That damn son of a bitch! He's smiling. I can feel it. It's almost tangible; like the twist of his lips could change the density of the air.

Before my blindfolded eyes the layers of life-giving gas are changing colours, responding to his whims. The air quivers mockingly as he celebrates his victory over me. His movements become slower and almost too delicate. Then they stop altogether.

"You sadistic bastard!" I breathe out.

"You can be so impatient at times. Don't worry I'll make it up to you..."

I can feel him getting closer. Somehow he's not so cold anymore.

"...later."

His finger moves across my lower lip, urging me to open up.

So it seems I have to deserve further attention. Not that I mind now.

I open my mouth and immediately I can feel him filling the inside of it. It's too abrupt. I almost gag, but somehow manage not to. Then I relax, knowing that there is no better way. At least this situation is familiar to me. It's not like he can surprise me with anything.

"Now, be a good boy and take it all up."

He grabs my hair, forcing me to meet the rhythm of his moves. I follow it instinctively, letting him go as far as he pleases. I get so focused on it that I even forget my own body, still desperately calling for attention. He moves faster. I can taste the preliminary to the finale. And finally it's there. Its bittersweet taste resembles the flavour of his mouth when he's getting turned on.

Once again I wish he gave up smoking and gave himself more sugar.

"Well done, Spirit," he pants slightly.

"What now? You're going to make me wait even longer."

"Oh, don't worry. I'll be ready soon enough. Besides…" I can hear his breathing closer to my face. He gives me a stroke from the base to the top. He's driving me crazy. "…We've got all the time we need. You're not going anywhere, are you?"

"Bastard. At least take the blindfold off."

"No."

He leans his head on my shoulder. His breathing is getting faster again. The vibrations of the air are transmitted through my ears and throughout my whole body. It's like I was hearing a dulled sound from under the water surface. I can feel myself sinking into the imaginary liquid, deeper and deeper. The light on my horizon disperses. I'm only able to catch a distant glimpse of it.

Then there is a strong grip on my thigh and a force that turns my body around. I lean my elbows on the back of the sofa and my knees are placed on its seat.

"Don't you even think about it," he scolds me when I try to take advantage of this position and take the blindfold off. "Or you'll be left to take care of yourself."

I give up. It seems that I'm just a specimen after all, but does it matter? As long as I get my fair share at the end it's alright, isn't it? In the position I am in it's my only reasoning. It's said that men think with their lower head most of the time. Well, it's true.

I can feel something sharp running up my thigh. My body moves forward instantly, I almost hit the wall with my head.

"What the hell, Stein?"

"Watch your mouth Spirit. You don't want to get it any dirtier than it is already."

"I'm at my limits here. You think I'd care about things like proper vocabulary now?"

"Oh, so you're in need..."

"Agghh..." I gasp feeling my other leg is being treated the same way.

"...of me?"

What is he doing?

Floating in the darkness I can only see parts of me being torn up. I'm not able to tell which is which. His hand on my side is becoming a part of me as well. It's almost as if he wanted to push his being into me – to tear me apart from the inside and build me up from scratch, so he can shape me to his liking.

"Aren't you?"

"Oh, damn, yes. Franken, I need you very, very bad. Can you please stop teasing me already?"

"I told you, you're too easy."

He fills me up. One smooth move is all he needs to get into the core of me. He doesn't even bother to have me prepared in any way. He never does. He knows that I won't complain anyway. He feels so in place being where he is.

I relax my muscles, finally feeling safe. I can feel myself pulled out of the water every time we meet each other in our passionate dance. My lost light is getting back to me at last. Finally the metal cage is off and the warmth is reaching my insides, spreading widely throughout my body. He pushes me into its sweet embrace. I melt in it.

It's sheer bliss...

I'm being set free from my restraints. The dim light of the room is assaulting my pupils. I close my eyes and fall limply on the sofa.

There. I gave in to the temptation again, after promising myself a million times over that there wouldn't be another one.

Maybe I should stop making promises I won't keep anyway.