Otherworld

Candy Hearts [AkinXHannibal]

Candy Hearts

AkinXHannibal

Sadistic laughter combined with the thumping bass of screaming music, sweat and fluids clinging to scarred, clammy flesh. The horrid bitter taste of someone in his mouth, choking off his air and making his lungs clench tight in agony. The stinging pain of muscles ripping and stretching beyond the limits, and cruel vulgarity sneered into his ear.

This is what you deserve.

You're a monster.

Open up, slut.

His stomach clenched tight and a scream lodged in his throat. His eyes screwed shut at the hazy thick fog that only choked off his air further. The drugs like acid floating through his system, but not enough to dull the pain that exploded up his back, through his legs, and shattering his hips. The drugs only made his muscles feel like rubber, bones brittle, and powers fade. It was the sort of feeling he recognized and savored, clung to desperately in hopes that everything else would pass.

His eyes fluttered open slowly, shifting to the crowd of indistinguishable faces until he found one he recognized and his heart crumbled in his chest, falling into his stomach like blocks of cement. Wide blue eyes of horror, sweet angelic face streaked with tears, platinum blonde hair whipped up into a black scrunchie.

A dream... such a dark dream...

Akin...

His eyes flew wide open and he blinked rapidly, his breathing coming out in sharp pants. He was surrounded by darkness, the warm soft comfort of a thick quilt laid over him, arms wrapped tightly around a lean, muscular waist. He gulped in hot breathes of air, reaching for the edge of the blanket, only to have a pale slender hand do it for him, pulling it open so dim sunlight could pour under the covers.

Sunlight that illuminated a beautifully chiseled face, elegant with smooth high cheek bones, a pair of brilliant blue eyes that glittered like a summer sky, platinum blonde hair that fell over a lithe shoulder, concern creasing a handsome brow.

"Hannibal," His smooth masculine voice tinged with the slightest New York accent, "Are you all right?" Hannibal blinked a few more times, ensuring that he truly was staring into the only face that didn't glare at him with contempt.

No, there had been a time when those eyes had blurred with tears, betrayal curling those perfect lips, agony making his brow twitch. That face of salvation had once cursed him, and he held his breath each morning in wait that it would once again return to sneering, but it didn't.

Hannibal couldn't find words to respond to his master. He didn't feel the need. His master always seemed to know how he felt. And now, his master knew everything about him. His master knew where to touch him to make him melt, knew where to strike him where it hurt, knew the darkest corners of a past he'd long since given up fleeing. His master could easily break him and use him, like so many before him, and yet he never used that authority to make Hannibal feel degrated. He somehow managed to be merciful and it made Hannibal sink back down on the bed, relieved that it'd only been another plaguing nightmare rather than a harsh reality he'd wish never to return to.

His master reached beneath the blankets, sinking his long tapered fingers into Hannibal's thick black hair, savoring the silky locks sliding between his fingers. He massaged Hannibal's scalp to soothe him, making Hannibal relax with his nose touching his master's abdomen. Hard and flat with lithe muscles that had well proven their strength, the only pillow Hannibal found himself ever longing for.

Even better, his master never asked about the nightmares. He'd already lived them, and relived them on occasional dreary nights, and his master didn't want to harm him further by forcing him to recount them.