, 07:43 PM
An Open Wound
Ald had him pinned, his back flat against the wall. Ald would not let him go. One hand pinned a shoulder to the wall, the other held his hips in place.
“You’re hurting me, my Lord,” Quinn said unsteadily.
“Good,” Ald said quietly.
Quinn twisted and tried to remove the pressure. He felt a wall of heaviness slam into him and hold him steady against the wall.
“Stop fighting me, Captain.”
He swallowed roughly. “You’re agitating it.”
“Tell me what it is and I’ll let you go.”
“It is obviously an injury,” the Captain replied stiffly. “Please let me go now.”
Ald dug his fingers into Quinn’s side and elicited a shuddering shout from the man.
“My Lord,” Quinn exhaled shakily, “you’re hurting me. Please stop.”
Ald didn’t acknowledge Quinn’s plea. He dug his fingers into the wound until the Captain was gasping and sobbing for him to stop. He released him and let the man slide down the wall to the floor.
“Do you enjoy pain, Captain?” Ald asked, staring down at Quinn.
“Not – not particularly,” Quinn replied quietly. He held his side with a limp hand. Pain lapped at every nerve like a cat drinking milk.
“Then why do you hide things from me?”
“I’m not hiding anything.”
“Stop lying to me,” Ald hissed through clenched teeth.
“I’m not lying.”
Ald bared his teeth and crouched in front of Quinn. His hand shot out and grabbed the wound. Quinn gasped and fought to move away, but Ald’s hand was unyielding.
“Then what is this?” Ald asked calmly.
Quinn whimpered and wiggled. “It’s a wound, my Lord. We’ve – ah – we’ve been over this.”
Ald dug his fingers deeper into the wound.
“My Lord, please,” Quinn sobbed pathetically. “You’re hurting me. Please, please, please stop. I can’t…”
“You can’t what?” Ald asked calmly. He dug his fingers deeper into Quinn’s wound.
Quinn’s eyelids fluttered then slipped shut. Ald relinquished his hold on the man then rocked backward onto his bottom. Quinn didn’t react and didn’t move outside of breathing.
Ald ran a hand down his face and sighed. He was angry. He was livid. He was hurt. He was scared. He was worried. He knew his information gathering required tact, but faced with a reluctant and stiff Quinn he snapped. They had been so close before. At least, he thought they had been close. He ran a shaking hand down his face. This wasn’t the path back to being close. This was the path to shoving him away. He’d wait. He’d wait here on the floor until Quinn regained consciousness and try this again. Perhaps a little less hands on this time around.
I'll probably die if you group with me, but I'll go out with both lightsabers drawn stabbing someone in the face. Probably you, but it's cool. Forever Shenanigans!!