literature

Rule 63 Drabble 2: Torture

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Moriarty slowly blinked as he woke up, the throbbing pounding in his head. He rolled his shoulders, trying to get the kinks out of his joints. It was only then he realized he was sitting on a stool, handcuffed to a chain that was protruding from the cement ground. Looking around through half-opened eyes he saw he was in what looked like to be an abandoned warehouse.

Well…this wasn’t good.

“Well, well, well…it looks like we’ve snagged Sherlock Holmes number one enemy…” A voice drawled and Moriarty rolled his eyes, looking up and glaring at the figures that stood in front of him.

“Do you know how many times THAT joke has been used on me?” Moriarty asked, his throat dry and rough, his mouth tasting sour and felt like he had swallowed cotton. He didn’t get to laugh before a swift right hook silenced him and filled his mouth with the familiar copper taste of blood. He glared at them angrily then offered a smirk.

“So…Mr. Prescott thinks he’s all tough?” One of the Deatheaters asked, though it was rhetorical and no answer was given. Moriarty stared at them and glared shrugging. “Well, it seems that you’ll be helping us.”

“I highly suggest you fuck off.” Moriarty snarled. “I’m not helping you lot with anything-” He was silenced with another blow to the cheek.

“It wasn’t a choice, Prescott.”

“Screw you.” He growled, spitting blood to the ground. The other Deatheaters chuckled and one finally removed his mask. Moriarty blinked and then his eyes narrowed.

“You.”

Dane walked forward, staring at the other man. Moriarty stared at him with narrow eyes.

“How are you even alive?” Moriarty growled shifting in his chair. Dane chuckled and Moriarty sucked in a harsh breath as Dane fisted his hand in the back of Moriarty’s hair, yanking his head back.

“Why do you care, Prescott?” Dane asked with a sneer that turned Moriarty’s blood cold. “You should be worrying about other things, other than my miraculous return.”

“Such as?” Moriarty asked, giving only a grunt when Dane’s grip tightened. Moriarty simply glared, before he saw a red light and felt pain shoot across his cheek. He grunted again, biting his bottom lip to stifle the yell as Dane moved closer, his mouth directly next to Moriarty’s ear.

“This is going to be fun…”


It had been nearly a week since Moriarty’s capture. He shifted in his chair, wincing as his wrists burned from the lacerations he had cut open in his struggles. He was sticky with blood, sore from bruises, weak. But he wasn’t about to tell them that.

“Moriarty, Moriarty…how the mighty has fallen.” He heard Dane mock and he looked up, glaring at him. Moriarty spat in his face but said nothing more. Dane wiped it off with his gloved hand and stared at the young man, whose face, though covered in sticky, half dried blood was still smooth and attractive underneath. Dane mentally snarled. No, not attractive. This man was not attractive! He was vile and unfit to clean the dirt off of Dane's boots. Regaining his mental composure, Dane sneered at Moriarty.

"Comfy?" He asked, walking around the invalid young man.  Moriarty kept silent, his hands turning to fists. “Come on Mori…you’ll answer me eventually.” Chamberlain cooed. Moriarty glared at Chamberlain, refusing to say a word or show that he was in any pain. Dane stood in front of him and pointed his wand. "Crucio!" He snarled. Moriarty writhed in agony but didn’t scream. He would never give Chamberlain the pleasure of know he made him scream. Dane watched in surprise as Moriarty slumped forward, his shoulders moving up and down as he tried to regain his breath. How interesting. How…intriguing.

No! Chamberlain shook his head violently as Moriarty looked up at him through narrowed eyes. He then let out a slight chuckle.

“Ah…I see…you’re a masochist.” Moriarty sneered, and laughed harder. “Hate to break it to you, Chamberlain. But you’re not my type.”

“Shut up. Shut up.” Dane growled, pointing his wand into Moriarty’s face. Moriarty kept his gaze even on his face.

"I never figured you would be into men, Chamberlain. You were quite the womanizer in school, you know," sneered Moriarty.

"Watch it Prescott," growled Chamberlain. A red glow came from the tip of his wand. Moriarty grinned.

“Who knew you were a q-” Moriarty taunted before he saw a bright light and then pain spasming through his face. He bit his bottom hard as he finally yelled in pain as Chamberlain shoved Moriarty down to the ground, held him down and began to carve his wand into Moriarty’s flesh, traveling down to his shoulder repeatedly, making designs into his skin.

“SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP! SHUT UP!!!” Dane screamed. It remained this way for nearly thirty minutes before Dane moved away, panting hard. Moriarty was staring blankly at the ceiling as blood slid and pooled around his upper torso.

“I’m not a queer. I’m not.” Dane panted repeatedly storming away. Moriarty blinked slowly and tried to shift but pain spasmed through him and darkness became his companion a second later and he willingly allowed himself to enter the void.
If only to vanish away the pain.
lalalalalala....

several areas was helped by :iconkitsunena:
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beyblade23's avatar
Intense... O.o I can't believe still has 'things' for Mori even as a guy