Slut (Die Another Day one-shot)
by X-x_Deus Ex_x-X
Slut
He’d first been addressed as such when he opened his legs for Shawn. His first response had been indignance and denial: you’re having the sex too, half of the sex I have I have for missions, I never have more than one partner at a time, I’m discerning with who I sleep with, and so on and so forth. In the end, a single touch from Shawn had him gasping and squirming all over again, moaning softly and pressing into those hands. He knew in that moment that he would accept anything Shawn said. There was no way he could resist someone who could touch him like that.
It was slow, it was painful, and Jyzal had literally begged for it by name. Being tied down, hit, spit on, snarled at, degraded, and ******** ten different ways just got him off, what could he say? Never once did he voice any sort of displeasure; never once did he complain. The bite of steel handcuffs into his wrists was a comfort; the sharp, stinging pain of a collar with tiny spikes lining the inside was welcome; the dull ache of old bruises that ran bone-deep was a familiar sensation; the feeling of being too full as his mouth was filled with a cloth gag was a treat. Jyzal had earned the gag after pleading with Shawn to shove something in his mouth, and the prince had predictably replied by roughly ******** Jyzal’s face. When that didn’t prove to be enough, Shawn had shoved Jyzal’s underwear into his mouth, delivered him several harsh blows and sneered that he wasn’t worthy of anything better, and finally shoved two fingers into him dry and without any warning. Jyzal had seen stars, and sworn he’d gone to heaven.
They both lay panting when it was done, breathing heavily and simply relishing the lingering aftershocks of their near-simultaneous climax. It was difficult for Jyzal to draw breath through his nostrils alone, with his mouth otherwise occupied as it was, but even the burn of too much air scraping over dry nasal passages was welcome for Jyzal. The pretty blonde was content, for a few moments, to lay in his bonds, relishing the fact that he couldn’t move and he was covered in his lover’s pleasure. His own orgasm tainted his chest and stomach from where Shawn had graciously allowed him to finish; Shawn’s pleasure splattered his lower back and face from the prince’s desire to see his lover filthy and well-used. Perhaps Jyzal would never admit it, but he adored knowing that his lover had indeed used him as well as he made him look. Some days he even finished on his face, knowing how much Jyzal adored feeling his master’s pleasure. Jyzal loved to roil in the little remnants of the sharp pain that had acutely plagued him before, and Shawn loved to watch Jyzal squirm. They could tolerate a few more minutes each.
Finally, once Shawn had gotten his breath back, he reached over and carefully tugged the gag from Jyzal’s mouth. That was pretty much the end of those underwear, but something told Shawn that Jyzal wouldn’t mind going commando for a few hours. Shawn knew he certainly wouldn’t mind it. It got him all hot and tingly again just thinking about his little slut running around with only a single layer of clothing separating him from Shawn’s eager hands. But of course, as was the price paid with Jyzal for the mind-blowing sex, the afterwards was always rushed and unfulfilling.
“Do you plan on releasing me any time soon, or are you going to sit there and ogle me like a schoolgirl with a crush?”
Shawn smiled despite the snark. Would it truly be Jyzal without the pretty little thing mouthing off like no tomorrow? He really ought to start gagging the little s**t more often. Why were the pretty ones always so undesirable with their mouths open and words coming out? Shawn decided to ignore Jyzal’s request. He was a prince, the crown prince of Halsting, and he stooped to no whore’s demands! “You are far too good at what you do,” he murmured instead, trailing his fingers up and down Jyzal’s hips. Bruised, but not scarred. How curious. They’d have to change that.
Jyzal only huffed once in annoyance; then, with a couple twists of his fingers and a slight click, the handcuffs fell away, and Jyzal was sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed, rolling his shoulders experimentally to loosen up the tight, angry joints. “With a kill rate of one hundred percent, I should hope my reputation precedes me.”
They both knew what Shawn had meant; they both decided to play along with the direction the conversation had taken instead. “Yes, well, as the legendary Ace of Spades, if you were to turn out to be a disappointment I would assume that my brother would become the laughingstock of the entire kingdom in short time. You would need to be a fearsome warrior in order to uphold his reputation. I still think it’s a shame that your talents are wasted on him, though.”
Jyzal shrugged as he dressed, ignoring both the blood and the semen dripping down his thighs, spilling from the a** Shawn had rather brutally ********. But Jyzal wouldn’t have it any other way. “Hardly a waste if it gets me to where I am right now.”
“Yeah, and where’s that? In his bed with him balls-deep in your a**, you slut?”
Jyzal left without dignifying that with a response.
***
It was funny how it only took a few hours for Shawn’s sarcastic prophecy to fulfill itself, Jyzal mused. As Shawn had said, Jyzal was now in Regime’s bed with the second prince buried deep in his body, furiously laying claim to him in the vain hopes that he could erase all trace of Shawn’s claim. The effort was futile, and both of them knew it deep down, but Regime would deny it until the day he died. Jyzal was his, he would say. The Ace of Spades was masquerading as the Death Card. This assassin’s true loyalties lie with him, not Shawn! As these thoughts reared their ugly heads, Regime grit his teeth and drove into Jyzal even harder, hitting the pretty blonde he had tied to his bed and scratching at him with his nails and drawing as much blood forth as he could. It just never seemed to break the politely-interested look on Jyzal’s face. Death was still perfectly in control, and the thought only made Regime crazier.
But even after hours and hours of tormenting Jyzal, Regime couldn’t seem to break through. If asked, Jyzal would say it was fine and it was a good try, but he might even admit to being bored if one pressed him. Tonight just hadn’t been a good night for Regime, that was all. It was odd, sleeping with Regime: some nights were mind-blowingly good, and Jyzal was left panting and moaning and begging like a b***h in heat. But then there were other nights when he slunk away unsatisfied and rather annoyed at the lack of fun, grumbling to himself as he got into the shower and did his best to finish himself there. It left Regime fuming, but unable to do anything himself, and it was usually these nights that Jyzal didn’t bother to stay. There was simply no middle ground with Regime, and so Jyzal would just roll the dice and hope it came out a win.
Shawn, though…Shawn was consistently good. Jyzal still didn’t know if it was just an average sort of performance but the fact that it was Shawn made it so good or if it truly was that good, but either way, every time he slept with Shawn, he wanted nothing more than to keep going back. He would literally kill to get into Shawn’s bed, and many times, he did. Many a night after a successful mission was spent in Shawn’s bed, the prince rewarding his success by sticking his fingers in the wounds and twisting them open and maybe even granting him new ones. Shawn could play Jyzal like a violin: he knew how he liked to be tied, he knew how he liked to be hit, he knew how to talk to him and how to move him and how to treat him and how to ******** him and it was all just heavenly. Jyzal had been sleeping with Regime for years now, and had actually only started sleeping with Shawn at Regime’s command. That had started several months ago. In that short time, though, Regime’s shortcomings had become embarrassingly apparent.
“God, you’re so hot,” Regime gasped, immediately collapsing to the bed and wrapping his arms around Jyzal’s waist. “You’re the perfect weapon. And you’re all mine.”
“Hmph. I don’t know about that.”
Jyzal had already worked his mouth free of the gag, and within seconds his hands were free of the belt Regime had hastily knotted around his wrists. Regime growled and tightened his grip on Jyzal, the threat of losing him to the chilly air in his room very real. Jyzal slipped free as if Regime wasn’t even there. The prince sighed in disappointment and resigned himself to watching with rapture as Jyzal dressed. He was satisfied that, if nothing else, he’d left more marks on Jyzal than Shawn ever had. Jyzal would insist that he’d barely felt them and that they were unrefined and crude, but the fact of the matter remained that they were there, and they were impossible to ignore. If anything, the chaotic nature lent itself better to Jyzal’s body. It perfectly complemented his medical precision in the field.
“When will you be back?” Regime asked. It was a layered question, and naturally, Jyzal chose the least-awkward layer to answer.
“Another few days,” he said breezily, pulling his shirt back on without care for the blood dripping down his arms, beading up from long, deep, aggressive scratches. Amateur’s work, the blonde scoffed to himself. “It’ll take me a day or so to find the guy, another day to complete my mission, and one more to get back. Maybe four days to be conservative.”
“I’ll hold you to that. God knows I can only survive so long without seeing my pretty little slut.”
Jyzal didn’t answer as he left the room.
***
“Hello, slut.”
Why did everyone insist on calling him that? But Jyzal found himself smiling all the same as Shawn’s hands slid over his stomach, sneaking up under his shirt and skimming their palms across his bare, heated flesh. It had only taken Jyzal two days to complete his mission from Regime, but he wanted to spend the other two he’d spoken of rolling in sin and debauchery with Shawn. He needed a break from Regime. The two personalities, the mood swings, the psychotic breaks, the back-and-forth, it was all too much, really. A little bit of consistency would be much appreciated. Jyzal fell willingly into Shawn’s arms, relaxing as the other man took control. This was easier, much easier. This was a relief. And to finally be able to feel the pain, to know that he was still alive and still human (barely, but he was still human,) and to be so free was nothing short of wonderful. Jyzal was almost convinced, in times like these, that he could live like this.
Reality, though. It beckoned to him with its toxic grasp, pulling him back from sin incarnate and mandating his return to the world that he truly lived in. He loathed having to leave, but he carried with him the comfort of the marks Shawn had left. Carefully thought out, perfectly executed, artfully crafted and masterfully placed, this was true love. Anyone who put this much attention into their loving caresses had to love him, no? And so Jyzal smiled as he dressed, turning back only very briefly to place the quickest of kisses on Shawn’s lips. Shawn smiled at the contact, letting his hands rest on Jyzal’s severely-bruised hips. Let Regime see, he thought to himself as Jyzal silently slipped away into the night. And let him do better.
***
“Where’ve you been?”
“Oh, you know…with him…”
“Hmph. I couldn’t tell.”
“No, he can’t mark me like you can. I don’t even feel it when he touches me anymore.”
“But he tries.”
“He tries, and he fails.”
“We need to stop him from trying, then.”
“Tell me more. Talk dirty to me.”
***
Jyzal’s loyalty had changed.
Regime could see it in the blonde’s pretty smirk as the clothes were torn from his body, revealing the grotesque wounds that littered his flesh. He was still beautiful, oh, so beautiful, but Regime was enraged nonetheless. It was entirely unspoken between them, but the move had been so bold it couldn’t have been anything else. The moment he saw it, Regime knew exactly what it was and what it meant. And he was livid.
“What the ******** is this?!!” he screamed, as the last piece of clothing fell away and the daring mark was revealed. “What. The ********. IS THIS?!!” For emphasis, he dug his nails into the wound and dragged them down, pulling at the skin and scraping raw nerves. Jyzal’s head fell back and his body spasmed, but he cried out through the grin on his face with nothing short of ecstasy. He felt it, oh, sweet God, he felt it! The rage, the ire, the fury, all concentrated into this moment, and Good Lord, it had never felt so good!
“He’s spoken,” Jyzal laughed, even as Regime hit him, over and over again. “What are you going to do about this?”
Nothing, it would seem. The answer flickered across Regime’s eyes before he could hide it. The price of being so volatile, Jyzal mused: you could never control what others saw of you. You had no control. “I’m going to send him a message he’ll never forget!” Regime finally growled, reaching for the shark’s tooth earing in Jyzal’s earlobe. Tearing it out, Jyzal at first felt the white-hot rush of searing pain, and he laughed in the glory of the movement. This, yes, this! “You are mine!” Regime screamed, once again clawing at the mark on his thigh. “No one else ******** touches you! They have no right to touch what isn’t theirs!” With the earring gone and the mark on his leg mangled, Regime went next for the collar around Jyzal’s neck. Plain black leather, resting snugly against his skin at first sight. But as Regime found out as he tore it from Jyzal’s neck, the inside was lined with tiny little spikes that tore at Jyzal’s skin as it was removed. A collar meant not for a lover, but for a vicious pet. As if it were needed to warn others of how dangerous Jyzal could be; as if Jyzal needed it to come crawling back to Shawn every time.
“You don’t see him again!” Regime continued to rage, knocking Jyzal around with a ferocity the blonde hadn’t seen from him in a very long time. The prince’s eyes were crazed, even the blind one; his face was twisted into an ugly snarl (that was, even uglier than usual his entire body shook with the energy the anger lent him. “You don’t sleep with him-you don’t touch him-you don’t talk to him-you don’t even ******** look at him!!” With a particularly harsh blow, Regime knocked Jyzal to the floor, but the blonde only laughed. He laughed and he laughed and he laughed, even as Regime made yet another futile attempt at laying claim to him. Shawn had already beaten him to it, didn’t he see? There was no way he could deny this now! He couldn’t ever one-up this mark, he couldn’t ever ignore it, it wouldn’t even fade. This would leave one hell of a scar, and Jyzal couldn’t have been more in love with it. He didn’t think he’d ever been fonder of a scar in his entire life.
He was still laughing as he picked himself up and walked out; Shawn had carved “SLUT” into his thigh.
***
“How’d this happen?”
Shawn sounded falsely concerned as he trailed his fingers over the oozing wound in Jyzal’s thigh. It had been a little torn-up in Regime’s rage, but it was far from destroyed, a fact for which Jyzal was infinitely grateful. Jyzal purred softly, eyes sliding shut as he leaned into the hand on his half-healed wound. These were the best sorts of touches, the ones that let him relax with just enough pain to give him that rush and not enough to make him all riled up. The shivers and tingles he got from Shawn’s fingers brushing the open wound were amazing, and Jyzal found himself getting hard just from those alone. Shawn was way too good at this.
“Mm…he got angry.”
“Hmph. That’s a damn shame.”
“But it gave me a good one to go out on.”
“Mm-hm.”
Now the little bit of adrenaline started. Shawn’s tone had changed entirely, and Jyzal’s heart leaped into action as soon as he heard it. Hearing that Jyzal had still slept with Regime had hit a nerve with Shawn. Nothing like good old sibling rivalry to make a guy want to beat his lover, right? Feeling a grin shark its way across his face, Jyzal turned over onto his back, subtly spreading his legs as he propped himself up on an elbow and eyed Shawn with intense eagerness. Oo, what was the prince going to do to him? He’d really done it now, he’d been so bad, he’d really get it this time!
Jyzal could have squealed with joy when Shawn straddled his lap and pulled a knife from his pocket. Flipping open the switchblade, Shawn cocked his head, raised an eyebrow at Jyzal, and announced,
“I think I need to be a little clearer.”
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A Journey Out of Sanity
Just logs of things I'll like to read about and occasionally remember. Also contains stories, oneshots and drabbles revolving around RPs I'm in.
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