[ of all the places he could've been sent by the Ingress flipping out - the death matches, the slaves kept as servants, left with the others to carry out a rescue - it had to be this. someone had to look him over, see that he's young and pretty, look at exotically covered eyes and full lips, strip him down and view the tone of his body, the bizarre metal drilled into his back, and deem him a object for lust. a shock collar around his neck and a man with a rifle at his back had led him into a room like an opium den turned harem, where hands strayed all across his naked body and Andyr had to bit into the inside of his cheek to keep his arms under control, as his mind screamed and lashed against the inside of his skull.
he'd had to wait, until the man with the rifle's eyes strayed to a woman splayed out over three men, sick desire blinding him for just an instant - all he'd needed to shove the butt of the rifle into his throat, hard enough for a snap to ring out, shortly followed by the sizzle of electrocution. screaming at the agony of electric fire in his veins, he'd launched himself at the one holding the remote, punching and punching and punching until the guard's face was unrecognizable. the device crushed into useless pieces, and Andyr's vision went red. what happened after was a wash of screams and violence, andyr remembering the feeling of flesh ripping underneath his fingers, the crack of bone, the gurgle of a man trying to whimper through blood flooding his throat.
by the time bucky'd showed up, having cleared the halls beyond this one room, it was something out of a grotesque horror film, andyr sitting in the middle of it, washed in blood, still wearing that collar, every inch of him with a pulse of tremor. seeing him, knowing him, he'd raised up, and paced over, to place himself directly into bucky's arms, a hand going to the metal appendage, like it was a solid reminder of who he is, and what he is to andyr - the proof of it. "Take me home", he'd told him simply.
refusing the medbay, he'd gone straight to a shower, feeling dirty inside and out, scrubbing at his skin until it left rashes (which quickly healed, but happened all the same), never again, he'd sworn to himself two years ago. never again, never again, never again. and yet, here he was. they hadn't even needed the drugs and restraints. just a gun to his head, and he'd bowed to it. sobs like screams ripped from the nomo deck showers, as andyr punched at the tile lining the stall, underneath the showerhead, until it cracked and fell away, leaving a dent in the metal behind it.
eyes still rimmed red, he'd marched back to bucky's private room, hand curled in the towel around his hips. he can't do this. not again. he can't feel like his body is his own again, like there aren't fingerprints staining his bones, can't forget the 'property of' disclaimer drilled into his spine, but perhaps if he can't be his own, he can be bucky's.
his hand reaches out for barnes' metal wrist, and andyr turns, to push his back against bucky's chest, silently, leaning back against him in a way that feels like surrender, but without any ounce of shame or defeat in it. simply letting go. his hand moving to cover the back of bucky's mechanical one, he pulls him to slide against his naked, damp stomach, fingers splayed. downward, slowly, until he's urging him to touch beneath the towel wrapped loose and low on his hips. ]
Please. [ he whispers, into the side of Bucky's throat. he needs this. ]
ffffff ho'boy
he'd had to wait, until the man with the rifle's eyes strayed to a woman splayed out over three men, sick desire blinding him for just an instant - all he'd needed to shove the butt of the rifle into his throat, hard enough for a snap to ring out, shortly followed by the sizzle of electrocution. screaming at the agony of electric fire in his veins, he'd launched himself at the one holding the remote, punching and punching and punching until the guard's face was unrecognizable. the device crushed into useless pieces, and Andyr's vision went red. what happened after was a wash of screams and violence, andyr remembering the feeling of flesh ripping underneath his fingers, the crack of bone, the gurgle of a man trying to whimper through blood flooding his throat.
by the time bucky'd showed up, having cleared the halls beyond this one room, it was something out of a grotesque horror film, andyr sitting in the middle of it, washed in blood, still wearing that collar, every inch of him with a pulse of tremor. seeing him, knowing him, he'd raised up, and paced over, to place himself directly into bucky's arms, a hand going to the metal appendage, like it was a solid reminder of who he is, and what he is to andyr - the proof of it. "Take me home", he'd told him simply.
refusing the medbay, he'd gone straight to a shower, feeling dirty inside and out, scrubbing at his skin until it left rashes (which quickly healed, but happened all the same), never again, he'd sworn to himself two years ago. never again, never again, never again. and yet, here he was. they hadn't even needed the drugs and restraints. just a gun to his head, and he'd bowed to it. sobs like screams ripped from the nomo deck showers, as andyr punched at the tile lining the stall, underneath the showerhead, until it cracked and fell away, leaving a dent in the metal behind it.
eyes still rimmed red, he'd marched back to bucky's private room, hand curled in the towel around his hips. he can't do this. not again. he can't feel like his body is his own again, like there aren't fingerprints staining his bones, can't forget the 'property of' disclaimer drilled into his spine, but perhaps if he can't be his own, he can be bucky's.
his hand reaches out for barnes' metal wrist, and andyr turns, to push his back against bucky's chest, silently, leaning back against him in a way that feels like surrender, but without any ounce of shame or defeat in it. simply letting go. his hand moving to cover the back of bucky's mechanical one, he pulls him to slide against his naked, damp stomach, fingers splayed. downward, slowly, until he's urging him to touch beneath the towel wrapped loose and low on his hips. ]
Please. [ he whispers, into the side of Bucky's throat. he needs this. ]