giftsofglory | Breaking point

Mello had tried his patience on many levels since he'd acquired him. He'd bit, kicked, punched, clawed,and every other means of vicious attack he could try in the time he'd had him. None of that had really bothered him. Hurt, yes, but aside from the lone groin shot it had never made him angry.

Having his warnings ignored, however, did. He'd been very kind to the man on this day. He'd coddled him, let him roam loose on the grounds, and even let him attack and play without much int he way of retaliation. However, there was a point when enough was enough and he was still a healthy male in his prime.

He'd been trying to control himself because he didn't want to break his pet, but his pet insisted on doing something deliberately after finding out it was arousing? No.

That was an invitation.

Thus, that led to this, him bringing him into a room he hadn't intended to use for a few weeks yet, if that soon, and him flipping the man off his shoulders to press him down, belly down, on a soft, padded mattress. There were other things in the room, but they were nicely closeted away. No, first he'd make the man feel him, then he'd move on to -training- him.

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"So you say." He had no need to linger over that and thus didn't, getting up to go deal with that part of things before returning, gathering up his bathing supplies and carding his fingers through his hair. "Now that that unpleasantness is dealt with, time to get you clean.You're filthy."

Despite how difficult, impossible even, it was for him to try not to pay attention, eventually it was over. Sephiroth was right that it might have been only slightly less unpleasant and over with faster if he'd relaxed, but that wasn't an option. Not even by choice. Did he have any idea how fucking impossible it was to relax under such circumstances?

He couldn't imagine doing this every day. Every allotted number of hours, even, if he was given the necessary amounts of water to keep hydrated... And that was the relatively easy part. He was aware that other details would have to be taken care of when it came to that too, and this was a terrible position for it, and-- He forced himself to stop thinking about it. Panicking and dreading would only make it harder.

Mello forced down a shudder and buried his face in the mattress, ignoring the hand in his hair and digging his fingernails into his own palms as his hands clenched into fists.

He saw the clench of his hands, then immediately leaned up to slap the backs of them before he moved up to start working on the man's hair, carefully wetting it down.

If the slap was supposed to do anything, it didn't work. Mello didn't unclench his hands or look up, breathing shudderingly. Under pleasanter circumstances, he actually enjoyed getting his hair washed. This was different.

He didn't repeat the physical rebuke, instead simply gently working on cleaning his hair once he had it wet, careful not to make a mess while he did, then rinsing it out. He didn't try to hurry either, just taking his time.

It was easier to tune out the hands combing through his hair, or at least pretend it was someone else. Someone who didn't matter, like a hair stylist or something. He checked his breathing, trying to calm down, if only for his sake. He was still tired, and stressed, and he needed to clear his mind. As if that would magically help him think of something he hadn't thought of before, or perhaps gain superhuman strength to break this chains.

When he finished his hair, he started to clean over his body, going firmly and thoroughly over every bit of skin, making sure every scratch was well cleaned.

By this point, Mello had managed to will himself into an almost-asleep state, still aware but trying not to feel the touches. He was shifted this way and that so Sephiroth could reach all of him, and despite being stiff and unhelpful with the moving, he didn't have room to struggle so he didn't. He couldn't reach Sephiroth, though the man was right there, and it was driving him crazy.

Finally finished, he got up to put everything away, padding back to stroke his hand down his spine. "Don't you feel better now?"

"Not at all. Stop touching me," Mello hissed, quietly but with venom, though he didn't move.

"I'll be bathing you every morning, and I'll be dealing with your other requirements when I deem them in need as well." He continued to pet him. "At least you have enough room to turn over, I'm surprised you haven't, no matter the discomfort."

Turning over tangled the cuffs slightly, which made them shorter. He'd tried. It made no difference, or if it did, it wasn't for the better.

"I don't like looking at your ugly mug," he muttered, trying to shrug his hand off when it brushed his shoulder and slid down his back.

"So you say." He kissed behind his ear, then rose from the bed. "I'll come by later to exercise and feed you."

"Exercise me?" Mello scoffed. "I have a maximum of several inches to move. What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Stretching your body, bending your legs. I assure you you have enough space to be adequately moved around, even if most of the slack is in the chains connected to your legs."

"I can do that on my own, thanks," Mello snapped stiffly, trying to kick him to demonstrate. After all, he'd been squirming around in his cuffs for hours before he'd finally gone to sleep. He didn't need 'exercising.'

"What you can do on your own has no bearing on what I will be making you do. You don't get control when you've proven you don't appreciate it."

"I've 'proven' nothing more than you will perceive, no matter what I do," Mello growled back.

"You mean to say you've not attacked me and when you were free to move almost unimpeded, you kept active?"

"I did nothing I didn't already tell you I'd do," he scoffed. "If you're using any of that as an excuse, it's because you already intended to."

"I was willing to give you room to hang yourself with until you decided to do something I told you not to lest you -wanted- the consequences. Now you have to build back to that level of freedom."

"Like I said. Excuses for things you already intended," he repeated dryly, refusing to accept the blame for any of this. He was the victim here.

"I didn't intend to need these." He tapped a shackle. "For months yet."

"Eventually intending to use them still counts, no matter the timeframe."

"You misunderstand. I didn't intend to use them like -this- at all."

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