Anger and pain fought for control of Mello's mind, both refusing to compromise. Despite everything, Schuldig's words were perfectly clear and perfectly reasonable: anything Mello could imagine, this man could perform. A few terrible images flashed through his mind the way one can never resist thinking of a forbidden object, and if he'd had the words to think clearly, he would have chastised himself.
As it was, eloquent thought was impossible. He wanted one thing and one thing only: to get his hand away from Schuldig before it could be moved again. The man knew what he was doing...was he really so experienced, or was he reading Mello's mind to know which angle or sudden twist he dreaded most?
How was Schuldig not feeling this?
He opened his eyes briefly, fighting off darkness, but the sight of his hand sent a surge of nausea through his stomach.
He was not going to give in. He couldn't. Not with Schuldig telling him what to do, giving orders as if he were the one in charge. But he couldn't fight any more either--christ, he could barely think. As much as he tried to control his mind, the words continued.
Let go. Let go. Let go. And then, despite overwhelming effort and his promise to himself, a single word: please.
When Schuldig released his arm it was immediately drawn to his body, the fingers of his other hand clenched so tightly around his wrist that they turned pale. The pain lessened but only slightly...what mattered most was that Schuldig couldn't do anything more.
Mello kept his balance and opened his eyes slowly, blinking in the dim glow cast by the nearby flashlight. He didn't leave but he didn't make any movement to attack the man in front of him. The occasion was impossibly rare...he was actually unsure about what to do.
no subject
As it was, eloquent thought was impossible. He wanted one thing and one thing only: to get his hand away from Schuldig before it could be moved again. The man knew what he was doing...was he really so experienced, or was he reading Mello's mind to know which angle or sudden twist he dreaded most?
How was Schuldig not feeling this?
He opened his eyes briefly, fighting off darkness, but the sight of his hand sent a surge of nausea through his stomach.
He was not going to give in. He couldn't. Not with Schuldig telling him what to do, giving orders as if he were the one in charge. But he couldn't fight any more either--christ, he could barely think. As much as he tried to control his mind, the words continued.
Let go. Let go. Let go. And then, despite overwhelming effort and his promise to himself, a single word: please.
When Schuldig released his arm it was immediately drawn to his body, the fingers of his other hand clenched so tightly around his wrist that they turned pale. The pain lessened but only slightly...what mattered most was that Schuldig couldn't do anything more.
Mello kept his balance and opened his eyes slowly, blinking in the dim glow cast by the nearby flashlight. He didn't leave but he didn't make any movement to attack the man in front of him. The occasion was impossibly rare...he was actually unsure about what to do.