roneal | (no subject)

He stands his ground, observing Shinjirou's actions, trying to gauge where he would land his first blow. If he would. He seems to be holding himself back, stepping away instead of trying to crowd into Jade's personal space. There's also the dog in between them - surely Shinjirou wouldn't hurt something he had been hugging and cooing over just a few minutes ago?

For a moment, Jade is quiet, wondering if he should back down peacefully. But he can't just follow Shinjirou's commands; that would cause him to be seen as weak, and he can't afford that.

"I shouldn't have to compensate for your deficiencies," Jade says coolly. This situation will have to be resolved someday; it might as well be today, when he hasn't invested as much time and effort into Shinjirou as he could have.

He's still hoping that this could be resolved peacefully. Perhaps if he turns Shinjirou's anger and loathing against himself...

"Deficiencies?" He stiffens, instinctively seeking the physical support of the wall. The nearest corner is still too far away to press into, unfortunately. There's too much room all around him, nothing to ground him. His breathing exercise fails and he inhales in sharp bursts.

It's the voice in the back of his head that's making him the angriest: kneel, apologize, submit. He growls, staring back with his hackles raised. "Piss off. You don't know anything about me."

Judging by the erratic way he's breathing, Shinjirou is really beginning to lose control now. The growling only confirms it. He looks like a cornered animal, and Jade has to wonder if he's afraid as well as angry. He hopes so.

"I know plenty." More than Shinjirou thinks, probably, but he doesn't see the need to reveal the fact he's been digging into his history. "You've told me plenty, and your behaviour now only confirms it."

He takes a step forward. "You're quite the hazard to those around you, aren't you?"

"No, it doesn't." Jade taking a step closer leads to Shinjirou taking another step back. One side pressed against the wall, he glances away for a second. A mistake he tries to make up for by glaring at Jade. This isn't confirming anything; he knows it confirms everything.

His voice cracks. "I'm not a hazard, I'm just." Scared. Confused. And he has no fucking clue how to deal with it other than lash out. He knows that. It sucks, he hates it, but as long as he isn't around people, everyone is safe. Shit, he should have left. Live in the woods by himself. He grabs for the closest piece of furniture and throws it to the ground.

"Fuck off!"

It's not something breakable, thankfully, but it makes a heavy thud as it lands on the floor. Irvin jumps and growls, backing away. Jade doesn't even blink.

"You're doing an excellent job of proving my point." Shinjirou could have just as easily thrown that at him, Jade realizes. It seems his desire to not cause harm trumps even his anger. But just how long can he hold on to that tenuous control? "You're dangerous. You need to be restrained."

"What, and you're going to be the one restraining me? Make me safe to be around?" Shinjirou tries his very best to keep the hope and desire from seeping into his voice. He fails, spectacularly, pitch higher. Breathless, he stumbles farther back until he finally, finally reaches the corner.

It's solid and he lets himself be swallowed up in that feeling. Why can't he be like that? Jade's capable of it. Every order bringing relief, no need to figure out what's right or wrong. It's becoming exhausting to keep his aggressive posture up, but he's not about to give up just yet.

"Why not?"

After a quick glance to make sure there are no throwable items within Shinjirou's reach, Jade approaches, slow and careful. He comes to a stop a few paces away from Shinjirou, tension in every muscle of his body. Shinjirou is close to giving up, it seems, but it's possible he'll have one final outburst.

"Someone has to. You're clearly incapable of controlling yourself." It's not entirely true, but it's something Shinjirou believes, so Jade relentlessly preys on it. "Continuing the way you've been, it's only a matter of time before you cause irreparable harm."

Irreparable harm. It's already happened. His chest expands with another deep breath he takes in an attempt to calm himself down. Too late. The texture of the wall leaves imprints on his skin as he shoves himself deeper into the corner.

He can't let it happen again.

Jade is here, payed for him even, offered to help. As long as there's someone between him and other people, protecting them by keeping him down, he could live on. Be useful in a twisted way, too. He licks his lips. Just drop onto your knees and everything will be okay.

"Try me," he says instead.

He's weakening. It's written clearly in the way he tries and fails to regulate his breathing, the way he cringes against the wall, the long pause before he speaks.

It's not what Jade wants to hear. He lets silence settle over the two of them, heavy and stifling, as he wonders whether or not to take another risk. Then he remembers that note of breathless desire in Shinjirou's voice.

Slowly, deliberately, he turns his back in Shinjirou and walks away. "Come, Irvin," he says, and the dog rises to his feet immediately. "Heel."

Is Jade leaving again? Just like that? Frowning, Shinjirou glances at Irvin -- obeying Jade happily, showing just how easy it can be -- and back at Jade. He wants that, too. His mouth is dry and he belatedly notices he hasn't had any water yet. This match is bound to be a loss for him.

"Tch. You're just inviting an attack now." Why.

"Perhaps so." He leans down to give Irvin a quick scratch, but doesn't stop walking. "You're dangerous to keep around; you've proven that very thoroughly." There's a note of foreboding in his tone. It's subtle, but present all the same, especially when contrasted against his earlier calmness. "But I suggest you save your strength."

"For what?" This isn't good. Jade has a plan and Shinjirou no idea what kind of plan it is, only that he doesn't want to be left alone again. Which isn't helping. He pushes himself off the wall, then shuffles closer.

"Tell me."

The sound of movement behind him makes him pause briefly, before he reminds himself that Shinjirou isn't the type to launch a sudden attack, especially now that he's calmer. He continues walking. By now, his destination is obvious: the telephone.

"I'm letting you go. I don't see much point in keeping someone so unwilling to change. Assuming all goes well, someone will take you back to the market tomorrow." He pauses. "Unless you'd rather be turned out into the streets now?"

His blood runs cold. He should be excited. It's a good reason for a celebration and Jade's giving him the option to just go back to his life as it used to be. He's sweating, stomach churning. No, he can't go back, he can't forget and ignore this.

Shivering, he walks up to Irvin and gets down on all fours beside the dog. His eyes are set on the ground, head hanging low. He can't talk anymore, he's choking on his own tongue. This is his place, this is where he belongs. No better than a dog.

But ... dogs are good. They can be trained, they can make their owners happy. He releases a hitched breath. It's Jade's decision, like everything else. To demand that he should listen to Shinjirou's begging now -- don't do it, keep me -- would just be another mistake.

He keeps his mouth and eyes shut, waiting.

Silently, he watches Shinjirou shudder and prostrate himself, waiting to see if he's about to speak. As the seconds trickle by and Shinjirou continues to kneel, his begging wordless but no less obvious despite that, Jade allows himself to feel triumph. Shinjirou had finally submitted to him, in full faculty of reason. It's a turning point, and a vital one, one there was no going back from.

Nevertheless, his victory is tainted by a hint of unease - this is a heavy responsibility, he's being entrusted with the keeping of Shinjirou's body and his mind. But Jade pushes his feelings aside. Neither of them have any choice; he'll simply have to do the best he can.

"Go back to the bedroom," he says at last, his voice carefully devoid of any emotion. "Face the wall, and cross your hands together above your head."

Not once does he look up -- but he gives a quick bow of his head before he returns to the bedroom. His heart has climbed up into his throat successfully, its beat droning in on his brain. He stands, hands crossed over his head, fingertips splayed out. Leaving himself open, from head to toe.

He makes no assumptions about what's going to happen next. Whatever it is, it's going to be the right choice for him. His mind empties, is filled with the simple texture of the wall, his breath shallow but evening out again. This is good. Sickly sweet warmth fills his stomach, every cell, because this is as much giving up as it is giving in.

There's nothing to hide behind. No way to pretend later he wasn't sober, wasn't in a right state of mind. Fully awake and having spent hours thinking about the situation, and he's come to this conclusion.

The leather is cool in his grip, its texture smooth, save for the little ridges created by the plaiting. It's a short whip, designed for ease of use more than fancy showmanship. Jade takes an experimental swing, snapping it against a stack of old newspapers, and finds it satisfactory.

He leaves the dog gnawing happily on a chew toy and steps into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him with a quiet thud. As expected, Shinjirou is standing quiet and obedient against the wall. Jade's eyes sweep over the long expanse of his body, taking in every single inch of bared skin.

"Keep your hands there. Don't move." The whip feels warm now, but the blood that pulses in his head feels warmer still. That dizzying sense of intoxication is back, like a fine wine that smoulders through his veins, and Jade has to breathe deeply, steadying his hand.

"This isn't punishment," he says. Then he brings the whip whistling through the air, cracking squarely across Shinjirou's back.

"Yes," he whispers, and adds an even quieter Sir. His eyes are glued to the wall, though he could probably have sneaked a glance at Jade and what's to come. It's not what he wants, not what he needs to prove himself still worthy of Jade's attention, and so he gives up the slighest bit of control over the situation, over himself, that he could have had.

Jade catches him just as he's about to inhale --

Shinjirou wishes he could scream, but he chokes on his tongue and all that comes out is a broken ugh. A searing heat spreads from the angry line the whip has left on his back, skin flaming up. The pain blinds him, tears stinging in his eyes, and he takes quick gulps of air to make up for the momentary loss of oxygen.

It's soothing, having his frustration taken care of like this. He allows his cheeks to stain, standing still apart from trembling lightly. This isn't punishment, Jade is right about that. It can't be, because then he wouldn't be relieved, would he? Wouldn't wait for the next hit without trying to prepare himself for the impact.

One. A single red line blooms. Jade could almost see the exact instant that the blood rushes to Shinjirou's skin, marking the exact place where the whip had landed. He waits, allowing the pain to spread.

Two. A second line appears next to the first, with less than an inch between them. Jade frowns, dissatisfied. He had wanted the two lashes to be side by side.

"Do you understand why I'm doing this?" He adjusts his stance, watching Shinjirou tremble and forcing himself to feel nothing - no hesitance, no guilt, no exhilaration.

Three.

By the time the second lash connects, he's got enough air in his lungs. Crying out, his muscles burning with tension as he fights his urge to flee, Shinjirou makes no attempt to swallow down the pain and rage he's felt the entire day. It spills out as screams and gasps, leaving the sensation of a knife being shoved down his throat behind.

"I, I'm not sure?" His voice is raw, just like his back, or so he imagines. It certainly feels like skin's tearing. The third time, his scream pitches high enough to let an echo of it ring through his head, ears pulsating. His chest heaves, and for a second he isn't sure that up is still up and down still down.

Once the world has stopped turning, he whimpers, "To help me."

This time, the whip doesn't come down. Instead, Jade steps forward, brushing the edge of the braided leather along the latest weal in a gesture that was almost gentle.

"Precisely." Shinjirou's screams are still ringing in his ears, but he doesn't allow that to deter him. Shinjirou doesn't seem to understand the purpose of this exercise, if his first - more honest - response is anything to go by. But he'll allow him to pretend. It's of no use if Shinjirou doesn't figure it out on his own. Perhaps it won't work for him anyway; maybe he won't find pain to be a facilitator of atonement, or maybe this sort of pain is too intense for him to learn to enjoy.

It doesn't matter. As long as he drives home the fact that Shinjirou is his, he would have achieved his purpose here.

Jade steps away again. This time, when the whip comes down, it's in a different angle, cutting over the previous three lashes.

Instead of flinching away from the touch, he presses back into it. He's not forgotten that he isn't supposed to move, but he wants to show, badly, that he's full of gratitude. His face is wet, tongue dry, throat sore and his back is beyond words. He smiles, forehead dropping onto the wall. "Thank you."

Then he screams in agony again, face twisting up. New warmth trickles down his back, wet spots blooming on the tender skin. His world's melting at the edges. Welcoming it with a sigh, he checks his posture. Today, he's been a disappointment. It's time to change that -- and Jade's giving him another chance. A way to get the anger out of his system, to mellow out. And he can feel it wash over him as the desperation floods out, with every cry.

Acceptance. Serenity.

Or maybe he does understand. Jade hopes so.

Five. Six. Seven... Fifteen lashes. By the time he's done, his arm is aching, but it's nothing compared to the pain in his ears and the throbbing in his head. He's been careful not to break skin again, but the last blow he lands almost directly on top of the previous one. Jade watches, struggling to remain detached, as blood seeps from the shallow cut, mingling with the previous trickles. It drips down Shinjirou's back and towards the whip, a deep crimson that Jade can't help but find beautiful, even now.

He's tired, all of a sudden. The whip is lowered to his side, a few drops of blood rolling from its length to splotch onto the wooden floor.

"That's enough," he says, careful not to betray any hint of his weakness.

His cries first rise, then drop in volume, and eventually find a middle ground. It's good, not knowing where the next lash will land, makes everything worse. Makes everything better. His eyes burn as badly as some of the streaks the whip carves into his back. And then, at some point, it comes to a halt.

As if sedated, it takes his brain about a minute until Jade's words compute. This is it, they're done.

Reluctantly, Shinjirou lowers his arms. The movement presses more blood out of the open cuts and he hisses, but doesn't falter. Before he turns around, he glances over his shoulder, allowing Jade to watch for another moment. Nervous twitches run through his nerve endings; it tickles.

Slowly, with the aid of the wall, he brings himself to his knees. Even more slowly, he crawls towards Jade. He's been sweating and crying the entire time and doesn't want to stain Jade's clothes -- but he's overcome with the need to nuzzle his leg, like an animal, and does it despite his wet face. His voice is broken. This is the only way he can show his gratitude.

He watches with growing concern as Shinjirou drags himself forward. Had he pushed him too far? He's weak-limbed, shaky beyond belief, his every movement such an obvious strain that Jade wonders if he'll pass out.

But then Shinjirou starts nuzzling at his leg, and Jade knows he's alright for now. It's strange to have someone pressed up against him like that, stranger still to feel wetness soaking through the fabric of his slacks. But it doesn't inspire revulsion as he thought it would; if anything, he feels calm, almost peaceful.

Quiet and analytic, he looks down at Shinjirou, trying to determine if his actions are that of gratitude or a plea for mercy. It feels more like former, and Jade has to wonder if what he's planning to do next is necessary.

He bites down the good boy that rises to his throat, forcing his expression into a cold mask. With a swift movement, he kicks Shinjirou, carefully calculated to startle him rather than cause injury. He's had enough of that.

"I didn't tell you to stand down yet."