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the fuck is sleep even

[Some fucked up shit in here y'all been warned!!!]

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[Sometimes, Dan Heng wondered if he'd been fooling himself, that there would ever truly be an end to it. The running, the fear. The pain.

To finally taste freedom only to have it snatched away was a uniquely crushing feeling. It was one thing to be born into it, to only know darkness. He'd wondered if the prison would be both cradle and grave long before he'd managed to see the sky.

But at least the shackling prison had been predictable in it's cruelty. He'd known he couldn't trust anyone there. It was easier when he could anticipate any visitors were likely to result in pain, in scalpels and needles taking pounds of flesh, blood and anything else Dan Heng's body could provide: payment owed owed for his crime of continuing to breathe, the shadow of a sinner.

Even with all the complications brought by a life on the run, fleeing ghosts of the past... nothing had prepared him for the reality: the fact that a Vidyadhara's body and blood was a highly valued commodity throughout the universe. That many people would pay fortunes for a scion of permanence, for any number of twisted desires.

All it took was one man on an IPC ship realizing just what his new temporary coworker was, and that he had no papers or contacts to his name, no one to miss him. Dan Heng wonders how many credits he'd been paid to deliver him to these people.

When they'd stripped down their new acquisition, there had been startled laughter at the scars. 'Used goods, it's a good thing they're immortal'. He hadn't felt shame over his body in a long time, but there was no denying the sickness in his gut... nor was there denying that he did cry out in pain after having once been long used to it, when they dug marrow from his bones and fluid from his spine.

It hadn't hurt nearly as bad as having scales peeled from his flesh, but by that time he had been gagged and barely able to breath through the pain, sedated and pinned in a surgical vice as they sliced thin portions from muscle in small strips, raw bloody patches left behind.

It had taken years for his tail to right itself after his escape, and he finds himself slightly and deliriously saddened by this fact in midst of the agony of being skinned alive.

The care with which they package every piece they take of him is noted with a numb kind of irony as he falls into an agonized sort of stupor.]

Edited 2026-01-03 09:09 (UTC)

[Maybe it's been days. Standard weeks. A standard year or two. But the drudgery of Dan Heng's torture would take on a different rhythm today: it starts with the electricity flickering on and off since today's extraction schedule started.

Some of his... caretakers mutter to themselves about the generator. What a pain it would be if the power went out, today that there was finally enough grown back of the horns that they could start keratin removal again. How they'd need to keep him awake and alert to keep the cloudhymn in the shavings.

And then all the monitors in the room glitch out. Start playing an animated show - a cartoon clock, adventuring through a dreamscape - and then the pneumatic doors slide open, revealing a wraith shaped like a man, covered in blood, and unerringly, turning his head directly to where Dan Heng's held.]

Found you.

[And then he starts slaughtering people - every single living thing in the room, just like that, bloody and vicious, with a sword already dripping red.]

[Dan Heng has long lost track of time in any conventional sense. Time is measured in how often they come for him, how slowly his scales, horns and skin regrows. The ebb and flow of aches in his bones, the pounding headaches and agony of having his body taken apart.

At the very least, they give him fluids. Only enough that he's useful, that he'll continue to provide more material over time, but... it's something, even if it's mostly IVs filled with who knew what chemicals. Probably whatever is making it so hard for him to fight back, to even call upon his cloudhymn.

It is a painful cycle. One that's interrupted by something new: The tinny high sounds of a cartoon, monitors glitching. Frustrated voices that give way to gasps and screams, and a voice he knows painfully well.

Surprise and something like wary relief floods his system as he watches the man cut down every person in the room, crimson painting the floors and walls and screams filling the air, a vicious artistry that leaves everything red in it's wake.

There's the distant chill of fear too, of course. But Blade cannot do much more to him than has already been done, at this point.

It's Blade's lucky day, perhaps: Dan Heng can barely move enough to try and sit up where he's slumped in his containment area, let alone run.] You...

[His voice is a raw rasp, barely audible, lips cracked and skin pale.]

[Blade stalks to where he is and slices through the control panel, and the reinforced glass starts to go open - and then it stops, stuck, as the electrical system malfunctions.

Then he pounds the hilt of his sword at the glass, violently, repeatedly, with single-minded purpose, and when it shatters into shards he climbs into the pod with zero concern for how the jagged frame cuts into him.]

Pathetic.

[Blade sneers, crouching down in front of him, mara vividly crimson in his eyes. He reaches out to grab Dan Heng by the chin, not particularly gently at all, to make him look at Blade in the face.]

You think you can escape your fate?

[Dan Heng has the sense to close his eyes when the glass jams: He needs his sight to deal with whatever follows, and he already knows a malfunction will not halt Blade's progress in the least.

Glass showers him, and there's some twinges of pain as some falls into and irritates still healing wounds. But he forces his eyes open as Blade crouches and grabs him by the chin, scowling sharply even through the pain the action brings to his aching bones.]

Does this.... look like escape?

[He wants to shove at Blade, but his arm trembles from the effort of even raising it. He's a mess that reeks of chemicals and blood: His body is sterilized enough to pretend infection and contamination, but there's no regard for dignity or personal care given.]

It only ends with you and I, Imbibitor Lunae. Nobody else.

[Is it really a threat when it's said with such blatant possessiveness? Blade lets go of him, but then threads a hand through the mat of his hair and fists into it, near the scalp, like he thinks Dan Heng would somehow run away. With the other hand and the sword in it, he starts hacking through the IV lines connecting Dan Heng to the pod. The blade's sharp enough, at least, that this doesn't tug at the other end still attached to Dan Heng.]

[There are many, many things he could snap at Blade: How this wasn't by choice, how that wasn't him, stop calling him that--

But there is very little room for words when he is getting dragged up by his hair, a sharp sound of pain rising in his throat. If he had any strength, he'd try to shove at Blade, or better yet kick. But all he can do is squirm as Blade cuts away the IV lines, try to shift his neck in a way that lessens the strain, bare his fangs in a snarl. If that hand got anywhere near his mouth again, he intends to bite.] Ngh. let... go!

[The truth is, if Blade tried to put him on his feet his hand would be the only thing holding Dan Heng up. His tail hangs mostly limp, a mass of bandages hiding raw flesh and barely formed scales while the rest of his body is little better. Maybe after the drugs wear off, he'll be able to fight back a little, but...]

Edited 2026-01-03 11:18 (UTC)

No.

[Now that everything physically shackling Den Heng to the pod has been cut, Blade yanks violently at Dan Heng's head, forcing it back so Dan Heng's looking up at him. He's lost weight, lost a little bit of everything, if Blade looks (and Blade likes to look), but it's so good to see him at Blade's feet like this.

He licks his lips. The haze of mara is all-consuming, but that's normal for anything that involves his wayward, hated, beloved husband. He vanishes Shard Sword and cups Dan Heng's face with his other hand, the bandages wrapped around it sticky-wet with gore.]

If you want to leave, then get up, Dan Feng.

[Dan Heng is exhausted, in pain and his nerves overwrought. He's been skinned alive, poked and prodded, had his horns scraped down in an agonizingly slow process.

He's also a stubborn bastard, most specifically about one thing in particular.

Blade forces his head back, grabs his face, and calls him that name.

Dan Heng sinks his teeth into Blade's hand with the spite of a half-starved, feral feline, trying to drag himself to his feet in a burst of pure petty adrenaline.

It... isn't quite working well. But he's certainly got the spirit.]

[Blade laughs, low and rasping. The bite is just hard enough to draw blood with those fangs, but is much, much less than any other violence Dan Heng has inflicted on him. He pulls his hand back with Dan Heng still clamped around it- and then uses that momentum to haul the other man upwards, against him.

He's bracketing Dan Heng's ass completely with the arm that doesn't have the hand being bitten, and Blade carries him out of the pod, glass crunching under his shoes. He ducks so Dan Heng's head doesn't hit the shards on the upper frame. Coincidence? Maybe? Where is Blade taking him? He's not headed for the door. He looks like he's headed for the medical table, actually.]

[The taste of Blade's blood in his mouth is sharp and metallic, but also sickeningly floral. It's the Mara, he knows-- But that doesn't stop him from clamping down like some sort of incensed gator, even when Blade hauls him painfully up by his teeth.

He's expecting violence, but what he gets is being full body pulled against the solid heat of Blade's body, drawing a shocked inhale after the cold of the containment pod, an a arm tucked in a place he'd be more flustered about if he wasn't expecting an incoming murder attempt.

As it is he goes stiff, snarling into the bleeding flesh still clamped in his mouth even as Blade hauls them both out of the pod, shaking arms trying to find purchase anywhere they can with weakly grasping fingers.]

[It's like being batted at by a kitten. Blade is solidly, overly mara-warm against him, his breathing strong in its irregularity, and he's even supporting Dan Heng's tail as he... lays Dan Heng down on the padded table.

It's a table specifically modified for Dan Heng, judging by the slot for his tail, so he can lay flat for the four point restraints. One of which Blade is casually trying to yank one of Dan Heng's wrists into as he wholly ignores Dan Heng trying to maul his hand, or trying to attack him, really.]

Nobody knew you were missing. Nobody but me.

[Even with adrenaline cycling through his system, it's going to take time for the drugs to wear off enough for Dan Heng to actively fight in any sort of effective way, but stubbornness is a trait that has persisted through lifetimes. That all he can manage is to shred Blade's hand is galling.

And frankly, he fact that Blade takes care to support his tail is hilariously gentle from the madman who he is still rather certain wants to kill him dead right now. He's most especially sure of this when Blade lays him down on the painfully familiar surface, entire body going stiff as he weakly tries to struggle away. There's absolutely no chance of him managing to fight Blade's grip, but his nails dig into the grasping hand. His teeth finally unlatch, just enough to speak with bloodstained lips and snarling fangs.]

Should... Should I be flattered that your obsession with killing me brought you here?

You think my obsession is with killing you? How like you to assume.

[Maybe if he thought about it Dan Heng would realize Blade's only secured one wrist, and it would be nothing compared to Vidyadhara strength. He looks down at Dan Heng for a moment, before ripping off the flimsy, stained medical gown he's in. And then he looks some more, cataloging the extent of injury that had been visibly inflicted on him.]

[Thinking is rather hard when Blade is stripping him naked, not that the fabric was particularly covering to begin with. His bare body is a sight: punctures from long term needle placement, the occasional patch of raw skin where scatterings of scales on his torso had been extracted, bruises from restraints and blood draws, even a few half-healed incisions where bone and marrow had been extracted. He's clearly lost weight, his skin an unhealthy pallor. They'd been careful to keep him alive, but only that.

Yet there's still enough in him to flush furiously, his tail weakly slapping at whatever it can reach of Blade as he kicks out with one leg.]

You certainly seemed intent on that. Are you so shameless as to want to degrade me before you kill me now?

Perhaps I like to play with my food.

[He puts one broad hand on Dan Heng's sternum. Even through the gore and the sliced mess of his palm from infusing his sword with mara, it's warm, and held with enough force just to be a warning.

He's not just looking now. He's staring. He catches Dan Heng's tail as it smacks his flank - and he keeps holding it, and then he's lifting it, and then

He's putting his mouth on one of the angry, scaleless patches, licking at the blood and open skin.]

[There is something distinctly unnerving about being stared at like this by Blade. It makes him squirm not just in a bid for escape, but because it feels like Blade's trying to devour him with his eyes.

Not kill: devour.

He bites down on his tongue when Blade grasps his tail to muffle a pained gasp, the appendage tender from mistreatment, but there's no swallowing the noise that follows when Blade licks his wounds like--]

Are you a cannibal now?!

[His voice creaks awkwardly, pained and bewildered, his gut growing tight with something that's slightly adjacent to the adrenaline pumping in his veins.]

[Blade is a man of few words and he doesn't even deign to waste any of them here: he laps at the wound, deliberately and thoroughly, and sets it down almost gently.

And then he keeps on doing it. He pins Dan Heng's hips down by the jut of bone, and curls over him, the bulk of him almost massive compared to Dan Heng's malnutrition. He then puts his mouth down over the band of bruises on Dan Heng's chest, from injection sites, and sucks his own splotches of purple over them, possessive, like he wants to overwrite what was done to him by other people.]

[The tail twitches erratically in Blade's hold, and Dan Heng's squirming doesn't cease. He half-expects teeth in his flesh, wondering if the Mara has truly taken Blade to new heights of insanity.

But then Blade is setting his tail down and pressing into him, pinning him to the table by his hips. Dan Heng is suddenly and keenly aware of every place their bodies touch, and the pressure and suction of Blade's mouth on his sore skin--

He bucks up against the man, heart pounding with a sudden rush of awareness that this is not going how he expected. His protest comes in a gasp.] What are you doing...!

[It's as if every nerve in his body is singing with alarm, caught somewhere between fear, shock and something shamefully like arousal. His only free hand finally gains purchase in the long locks of Blade's hair, yanking as harshly as he is able, leg kicking out once more in an attempt to dislodge.

This feels bizarrely like an echo of one of those incredibly twisted dreams he's had, which isn't helping him at all here.]

[Blade allows him that, and when Dan Heng pulls him back he'll be confronted with this sight: Blade, pupils dark and broad, his mouth almost swollen with the ferocity of his suckling. There's still Dan Heng's blood smeared across his lower lip, and he looks hungry.

The leg kicking out was a mistake, because Blade braces a hand against the inside of a thigh, where there are more injection and draw sites, and well. Of course. More sources of potent bodily fluid, higher up.]

Do you know how long I've been tracking you?

[The sight of Blade's face when he pulls him up seems to have frozen Dan Heng in place for a moment: His breath caught in his throat, heart pounding, pupils blown. Pinpointing what he's feeling in this moment is lost to him, all he knows is that the force of it leaves him shaken.

Though he's most definitely feeling exposed, and Blade can probably feel the way his thigh clenches beneath the grip of his hand, the spasm of his abdomen, perhaps even smell the scent of him. His fist curls tighter in Blade's hair as he swallows.]

...No.

[It's a weak response. He doesn't know where Blade is going with this, but regardless: He's long lost track of time here.]

Two standard years.

[One day, the bracer went cold, and Blade went mad.]

I found you when they auctioned Cloud Piercer off.

[And then he pulls against the grip on his hair to bite down over an injection site, high up the delicate, bruised skin of Dan Heng's inner thigh - hard enough for blunt teeth to break skin.]

[Hearing the length of time is painful.

Yet, his heart does something twisted and even more agonizing in his chest, hearing Blade speak of his beloved weapon. The day he'd heard what they'd done with it, he'd felt like he'd lost a piece of himself more dear and painful than any bit of his flesh they'd carved from his body. He'd grieved as they gossiped of it, talked of the credits they'd make as his heart broke.

The question is on the tip of his tongue, Dan Heng desperate to ask what had happened to it. Instead Blade is sinking teeth into his thigh, hard, and his efforts are rewarded with a sharp, high pitched cry of pain, Dan Heng's tail lashing and vent growing ever so slightly wet. Strands of hair pull free in his grip as his back arches-- trying to pull away, trying to brace himself for the pain. Something.]

[Kafka bought the entire lot, of course, on Blade's behalf. Spear, bracer, his clothes (and the jade pendant, how romantic of him to wear it on his person), and if Blade jerked off on Dan Heng's coat multiple times that's Dan Heng's fault.

He'll come back to himself with Blade watching him with the same covetous look, which twists into a smirk. He laves his tongue firm over the wound he's left.]

I can smell you. Slut. Did you like it when they milked you?

[How is it Dan Heng's fault Blade is a freak!!!

Dan Heng is breathing hard and near panting as he comes down, shamefaced and furious. There's no hiding his reaction, not naked and held open as he is right now, Blade's smirk sending licks of heat up his spine almost as much as his tongue. He tries to shift, tries to kick out with his other leg.]

No. I didn't-- Not with...

[He hadn't. Not from them. He shouldn't be enjoying this now either, but there had always been something about Blade that...] Bodies react. It's not... anything...

[Blade just catches his other leg, and uses it to pull Dan Heng down the table, extending his tied wrist high above his head. This is just the right angle for Blade to settle between his thighs. Is he really doing this.]

That's right. This body belongs to me.

[He leans up - Dan Heng's errant foot over Blade's shoulder - and spits right on his vent. He then draws a bloody finger over it and immediately moves to fuck it inside.]

I'm not--!!

[Dan Heng flails as much as he's able, which is admittedly not much, until Blade settles between his legs and he's caught up once more in how warm the man is, breath catching in his throat for a moment before he's trying once more to get the windup he needs to attempt to slam a foot into Blade's face. But Blade's too close, and the mortifying feeling of being spat on is soon followed by a bloody finger slipping inside. It should be disgusting. It should be violating. It is, but--

The sensation draws his body up like a bowstring strung tight, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he muffles a gasp that's a little too lewd sounding, leg kicking out uselessly over Blade's shoulder as if unable to contain his reaction. His vent clenches around the intrusion, growing wetter in response. Blade's finger is rougher, thicker than his own... and so hot inside him.

It's not like the instruments they'd used. It's night and day. His cocks are already shamefully perking up inside his vent.] St... ngh.

You are. Nobody else can touch you. Nobody else will. Understand?

[It's a promise: this will never happen again. Blade would cut down anyone who tried take his prey away from him. If it took branding it into Dan Heng's bones for him to understand who he belonged to - body and soul - Blade would do it with his own bare hands.

He curls over Dan Heng, folding that leg painfully up towards his chest, and bites down on another bruise on his clavicle, as that finger becomes two, scraping against his inner walls like they're trying to carve out whatever evidence of care this facility had bestowed on Dan Heng.]

Look at you. You needed me, all this time, doll.

You're mad.

[Those two words come in a breathless gasp. There are many things Dan Heng could say in response to Blade's demand: It isn't as if he asked to be capture and used like this. He doesn't belong to anyone but himself. But it's hard to form a coherent rebuttal when he's being folded in half, when that hot mouth is on his skin, when those fingers scrape inside him in a way that aches as much as it turns his blood to lightning, vent growing wetter to ease Blade's way as his cocks thicken and emerge.

It feels like Blade is trying to carve himself deep inside of his body, leave an imprint of himself inside. Where before there had been clinically cold pain and cruelty, Blade's touch was a vicious but heated contrast, demanding and undeniable and miles away from impersonal.] I don't.

[But his voice sounds wrecked already, his body clenching around Blade's fingers tightly.]

I am, yes. You made me like this.

[He licks a hot, wet stripe up Dan Heng's jugular, and suckles a punishing bruise over an extraction site, right over the artery. His fingers start to pump, and somehow they hit that sweet spot inside of him unerringly - like he's done this before, like they've done this before, but in a bedroom that smelled like incense and parchment and he smelled of lotuses and the sea and he smelled of metal and ozone and machine grease and Blade bites down more bruises down Dan Heng's collarbone like a necklace.

The pace of his fingers turn punishing. He smears more gore along the outside of Dan Heng's thigh and slicks Dan Heng's cocks with it, strokes sure and familiar.]

All you need to think about is me, Dan Feng. Your husband.

[Blade is treated to a strangled moan when he sucks at the wound on his jugular, though it's hard to tell what it's in response to: The painful and possessive drag against his skin, or the surprisingly adapt fingers driving into him without any mercy. His body arches nonetheless, eyes squeezing shut as the sensations overwhelm him, fingers of his free hand clawing at Blade hard enough to tear skin, tail constricting weakly against one of his thighs.

It's too much. His hands feel familiar in a way it shouldn't, a way that makes his throat constrict, not like the extractions at all, and more like--

Hands on his cock, the scent of gore and slick in the air, and this should not feel so good, feel like Blade's hand was made for this. It should make him feel sick, and he is, but his world is narrowing down to Blade's words for a brief moment, horrified realization entering his gaze.]

H...Husband?

[The words are like a blow, leaving him feeling gutted and unmoored. He knows Dan Feng had lovers, had woken from dreams hot and aching, longing for the ghosts that weren't his to hold or mourn.] You?

[Perhaps he should have realized. But he didn't want to: Not when those dreams were snippets of something loving, something Dan Heng has never had and never would have, taking voyeuristic pleasure in them.

Yet another thing his predecessor has ruined.]

[Blade doesn't answer him. He's busy burying his face into the crook of Dan Heng's neck, groaning against his pulse with every scratch Dan Heng tears into him. Two years. Two years of abject insanity, of tearing people and ships apart, chasing after Dan Heng's afterimage, of the bracer cold against his skin.

He laves and bites at Dan Heng like an animal. Like a predator. Blankets him with warmth and pleasure and doesn't stop while Dan Heng has his grand revelations; he needs the body under him to stop thinking of anything except them.

He grinds the palm of his hand against those cocks. Turns his head, teething at Dan Heng's jaw, before trying to blindly slot their mouths together, already lost in their reunion.]

[Dan Heng's certainly stopped thinking about much else beyond the man atop him: It's hard not to, when he's being crushed beneath the weight of new clarity and Blade's demanding mouth, when that hand on his cock is grinding into him and making him writhe. His body should be in no shape to be enjoying this, but the evidence is undeniable when he bucks up into Blade's palm with a sound that sounds as pained as it is wanting, high and strained.

He feels a little like he's gone insane, everything spiraling out of control, as if reality has picked itself up and taken an abrupt sidestep. When Blade shifts to slot their mouths together, Dan Heng bites into the kiss, fangs sinking into his lower lip but lips not retreating an inch.]

Fuck--

[It tastes like salt and metal, but Blade doesn't pull away, groaning into Dan Heng's mouth. His cock strains hot against his pants as he rocks against the crease of Dan Heng's thigh, but apparently he can't even formulate the thought of taking it out while he's busy fucking Dan Heng's mouth with his tongue.

It's the basest sort of want. Even when Dan Heng's at his lowest and most fragile.]

You're still so fucking beautiful- [Yes well Blade may have missed him a little bit. He fucks three fingers to the hilt into his vent, the wet sound of it obscene, and presses hard against his sweet spot as he jerks Dan Heng off.] Come on- give me-

[Their kiss is a bloody mess, teeth and tongue and crimson smeared between them, and Dan Heng can't help but groan into it, gasping for air that's already been lost between them. The feel of Blade's cock rutting against him, the shape of him... it's like adding gasoline to a housefire, Dan Heng grinding upward into the motion.

Those words are for another man long dead, but Blade's hands are touching him right now, driving him to the brink with a touch that is everything but impersonal. He hates it and wants more in equal measure, dulled claws dragging down Blade's shoulder as if he can bury a piece of Dan Heng into him... Not Dan Feng, not a Vidyadhara specimen, not a thing to be harvested from or sought in vengeance.

He comes embarrassingly quickly under Blade's insistent hand, snarling and gasping into the kiss as his entire body goes taunt, tail squeezing tight enough to bruise and heels kicking into Blade roughly as slick and cum splatters the man's hand and his pants in a lurid mess.]

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