bakerstreet | (no subject)

(no subject)

The HURT ME Meme
For kinks of pain: physical and emotional.

WARNING: Prompts will contain sexual and violent content and triggers. Click with caution!

THE PHYSICAL:
1 - Slapping. Bare-handed: including spanking, face-slapping.
2 - Flogging. With a leather flog, as soft or hard as you want.
3 - Breathplay. Cut off their oxygen.
4 - Beating (soft). Leaving bruises and marks.
5 - Waxplay. Feels like a burn, but isn't.
6 - Biting. Use your teeth.
7 - Gunplay. It might be the hurt, or the threat of it.
8 - Bloodplay (soft). Just a few cuts…
9 - Sexual exhaustion. Forcing them just a little too far, until it hurts more than it feels good.
10 - Suspension. Bind them so they can't (or can only barely) touch the ground, and wait for it to do its trick.
11 - Dubious consent. Don't know if they want it or not.
12 - OTHER.

THE EMOTIONAL:
1 - Loss. You've taken away something they care about deeply, perhaps destroyed it - or killed someone close to them.
2 - Rejection. All they want is you. Best to crush their feelings into the dust.
3 - Humiliation. Take away their pride.
4 - Punishment. They've done wrong. Time to let them know exactly how.
5 - Revenge. They've hurt you personally, and you want to hurt them back.
6 - Deception. Use the truth, or a lie, to make them hurt.
7 - OTHER.

THE HEAVY:
1 - Beating (hard). Draw blood, leave scars.
2 - Whipping. As hard as you want.
3 - Choking. The hard side of breathplay.
4 - Burning/Branding. Leave your marks.
5 - Fisting. The whole hand.
6 - Oversize Penetration. Double, triple, or just larger than they can take.
7 - Mutilation.
8 - Amputation.
9 - Vore.
10 - Guro.
11 - Non-con. They don't want it, but you'll force the issue.
12 - OTHER.

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[First you slap, and then you stroke. Keep them from knowing entirely what to expect next. That's how you start to bring someone undone.

Of course, his actions aren't entirely so ruthlessly logical as that. Even Loki can only stay emotionally distant for so long. He knows he's on the edge of clawing up something deep and dark in himself, and he wants to give Balthazar a point to steady himself by before that happens.

Even so, at the sight of that visible flicker of fear, he almost asks - not for the first time since the circle was closed - if Balthazar remembers the word that will stop all of this. But at the last minute, he closes his mouth. If Balthazar is still going to insist that he can take it, if he doesn't seem to have hit his limit yet...then Loki will respect that.

Especially since he remembers, too, memories that leave his grip tightening reflexively on Balthazar's hands for a moment. That terrible strength, breaking him like it was nothing, leaving him helpless...

There's definitely a note of something building in his voice - old anger, being slowly coaxed back into burning life. Even as, just for the moment, he merely strokes his thumb along the angel's knuckles.]

Do you know why I'm about to do this?

[The angel remains silent a moment, wheels turning, because while he can hazard a guess, he's not sure it will be correct. There's more than one reason to enact this particular vengeance, and the change in Loki's tone, while subtle, is a bit unsettling.

He's actually afraid to guess wrong.]

...I'm not sure. [Loki said not to lie, after all.

Slowly, steeling himself, Balthazar raises his gaze to meet Loki's.] But I know it was my choice. I had to do something, but I didn't have to do that.

[He doubts that's the whole and sum of it, but he's at a loss. His trueform doesn't have hands, or fingers. He's not even sure what kind of pain he's in for, and the idea that this type of injury could render a man helpless is beyond him.]

[Loki nods, as though Balthazar has just made an interesting point in a passingly engaging debate. He should be afraid to guess wrong...but, admitted lack of knowledge isn't something that will count as "wrong". Not even now. After all, it's obviously not a lie.

Then he takes hold of Balthazar's index finger and wrenches, baring his teeth for a moment as he feels the bone give.

Loki is a good deal weaker than Balthazar when the angel is at his best, of course. Even then, the memory of feeling that impossible strength, effortlessly breaking his fingers and leaving him helpless, is a memory that leaves him cold.

But that fact is quite irrelevant now. He feels the bone break beneath his grip even before he hears it, and Loki lets out a hiss of breath between his teeth as though some great obstacle had just been overcome.

From his perspective, it has been.]

Because you don't understand what it's like to be helpless. [The words come in a bitten-back snarl, spoken through gritted teeth.]

[Loki may be the weaker when Balthazar is at full strength, but not now. Reduced to more or less the strength of his vessel, the power of an ordinary human being, he's nowhere near a match. He said before that this wasn't a true role reversal, and it's not, but in this at least, their positions are flipped.

It's staggering. The shock shows on his face as the bone bends and snaps. There's a thin whoosh of breath drawn in, which gets caught in a strangled cry of pain. Without conscious thought--but also without the self-discipline to keep still in the wake of such abuse--he tries to pull his wrists away, curling forward.

The angel flatters himself that he's not the type to throw his weight around simply because he has strength to spare. Still, as is all too typical of the powerful, he's never considered what weakness must be like. He's felt helpless in the face of circumstances, but never in the face of an individual, and particularly not with a friend or lover.]

[Loki moves without thinking, with quick and brutal efficiency. His hands close tight as vices around Balthazar's wrists once more, and one of his legs shoots out to hook over the angel's uninjured one. But in the heat of that moment, it's less out of consideration and more than the uninjured one was the easiest in reach.]

No. You don't get to pull away. [After all, he didn't.] But if you keep insisting, I have other ways to keep you still.

[He's barely aware that he's speaking at all. There's a strange sort of roaring rush in his ears, and a tinge of red to his vision. It's a feeling almost like drowning.

The next finger breaks with no more resistance than the first.]

Do you have any idea what it was like, waking up after? Alone and trapped with you, knowing that you were the one who reduced me to such a wretched state?!

[He breaks the third and the fourth with shaking hands. The sound of the bone seems to echo in his head. The words continue to tumble out in a flood, red and raw and raging.] I couldn't feed myself, I couldn't drink on my own, I could barely sit up, and I had no way of knowing what else they might convince you to do for the sake of keeping me there!

[It probably doesn't take much effort to hold him still; he's weak from blood loss now, as well as the spell. He makes a brief, token effort to writhe away from the iron grip, then gives up, seeing it's futile.

Trying to regulate his breathing helps--for about two seconds. Then the next bone breaks and he actually screams, choking out a litany of swear words. Loki seems to be talking faster and faster, as the pain builds to a crescendo punctuated by the pop of bone, and Balthazar is hearing every word of it, unwillingly.

The broken bones are awful, but the anger in his friend's voice is worse. He's not sure, suddenly, if this has spiraled out of control, with Loki's cold focus giving way to real rage.

But he doesn't want to stop. He doesn't deserve to stop.

Still, held immobile, his only remaining self-defense is words, and he hasn't been pushed beyond the point of using them. His voice quivers like a bowstring, but he musters the strength to snap back:]

So you would rather have been dragged off and been broken down alone? Nothing I could have done would have spared you from suffering. I did what I had to to keep you where I could do something for you.

Arrogance. [Almost contemptuously, he breaks Balthazar's thumb for good measure.]

First you said you didn't have to do that, didn't have to deny me my hands and any way of defending myself. And now you say you did what you had to do.

[Half the job done, he releases Balthazar's injured hand without a second thought. After all, what can he do to resist with it?] But of course, it's all the same to you, isn't it? You don't understand what I felt, you don't understand why it hurt, why it terrified me. How could you?

You can afford to be magnanimous and forgiving because nothing can ever really hurt you! And I can only ever depend on you!

[Balthazar screams again, shuddering hard in the wake of new pain, then whimpers as he tries to muster another protest.] N-no...it's not like that. That's not what I meant!

[It's weak, less coherent than the previous defense, and the words are slightly slurred.] You think it didn't hurt me? To have everything I have, everything I am, twisted into a weapon against someone I cared about? They used us, both of us.

[He's trying to meet Loki's gaze again now, urgently, blue eyes glassy with pain. He sways slightly, struggling to focus, then breaks into an unsteady grin.] And you. You can't ever be pleased, can you? What if it were the other way 'round? You'd just look down on me for being weak, wouldn't you?

Wouldn't you?? [His voice rises in volume and pitch, then cracks and comes crashing back down to the raspy whine he's been forced to fall back on.]

You hate yourself so much you can't bear the thought of anyone loving you. I know you do, but I can't stop. I've never been able to stop, not with anyone, so how could I possibly learn how now? That's not magnanimity, it's desperation.

I guess that makes me sentimental and pathetic.

Don't stop. I'll do anything, everything you ask me to. Just make up your mind what you want from me.

[As Balthazar smiles, something in his expression, in his eyes beneath the pain, makes Loki release him like he's just been burned all over again. The smile is bad enough, but then the words, oh, the words fall as heavily as the whip did. Operating on an almost animal level of fear, Loki scrambles backwards, almost to the point of smudging the chalk circle with his bare feet. Almost, but not quite.

There Loki stays, crouched down in a posture that's visibly defensive, but he does listen. He can't stop. He doesn't deserve to stop. They're words he's always known were true, of course, but at the same time they're words that have never really been spoken aloud and suddenly his head is full of a buzz of raw terror that normally only dreams of the dark or the sound of thunder bring out in him.

He doesn't even realized he's slapped Balthazar until the sound of it dies away, and the sting in his palm starts to fade.]

Shut up. Shut up shut up.

[He bows his head, moving to thread his trembling, unbroken fingers tightly in his own hair.] I wish you had. Sometimes. I wish you had let them take me away. I've tried to die, before. Too much of a coward to do it myself, but...I always trusted that something would come along.

Somehow, I've always failed.

[Giving voice to what he says next is painful on too many levels to name, but Loki feels the words dragged out of him as though on hooks, choking.] Dying. Is. Simpler. Being alone is simpler. You don't know what it's like to love you, you don't...

...the kindest thing you could do for me would be to kill me. Or even just bring yourself to hate me.

[Stupid, stupid, stupid. This wasn't supposed to happen, this wasn't supposed to be about him. He was supposed to keep control, but that's all over and done with now, fragments and pieces scattered around his feet in diamond-bright and irreparable shards.]

I know every reassuring thing you could say and I know you're right and that doesn't change how I feel and so I feel like I'm going insane.

[Balthazar was trained as a soldier. He doesn't lash out often, but when he does, his aim is dead accurate. The slap tells him he hasn't lost his touch. Oh, he's definitely hit a nerve, and then some.

His goal here isn't to hurt Loki. More the opposite, to at least try and level the playing field, balance their history, make a bid to make him stay because nothing is more terrifying than the thought of him leaving for good.

So while he could go in for a kill, cut Loki up worse than his own body has been damaged, only with words, it's the last thing he intends to do. At the same time, he can't bring himself to soften this with humor or begging. All of this has to be said. Even if this kind of catharsis wasn't what he asked or what he expected, now that it's begun, they have to see it through.

He raises his uninjured hand to rub the slapped cheek (amazing how that hurts without leaving blood behind), then stills, slumping uncomfortable to listen.]

Well, you're partly right. I don't know what it's like to love me. But I've tried dying, too. It's not as simple as you'd think.

I had my blade in my hand. I could have ended it there, in so many ways, only I couldn't kill you, and I couldn't bear to leave you. And I had to anyway, to save you, save us both, and you...wish I hadn't? That I hadn't come back?

[There are tears now, and his voice shakes, but he keeps on, quietly, doggedly.] At least you're not mad alone. I don't understand how I'm doing everything so wrong, but I must be. Or else there's nothing I can do right, with anyone.

I loved Castiel like this. I was ready to die for him. And he threw me away like it was nothing. If I hadn't made preparations--because I knew some angel would try, just not him--well, you've seen the scar.

That's where I am now, Loki. You're right behind me with the tip of the blade against my spine, because Father help me, I've never wanted anything as much as forever with you, and I'm Falling all over again. [And now he bites back a sob, struggling.]

Help me. Please, I'm fucking it all up and I don't know how to fix it. Help.

[Balthazar isn't the only one fighting back tears, except that Loki isn't even trying. He isn't even aware that they've started to fall until he feels the tracks they carve hotly along his cheeks. Unbidden, unthinking, he raises his fingertips to brush the damp spot beneath one eye, staring at them in numb, honest shock.

There are no words for how much he wants, in that moment. It's a genuine ache in his chest. Wants to stay, wants to trust, wants them to be okay, wants to help and he doesn't know how, either.

Still, moving slowly, cautiously, like a dog that's starting to believe it might not be kicked this time, he...settles. Doesn't quite move closer, but settles from his defensive crouch into a cross-legged sitting position once more. His head is bowed, letting his hair fall a little into his face, but just from the way his breath hitches and trembles minutely on every inhale and exhale, he's obviously still crying even as he clumsily tries to build his defenses back up.

When he finally does speak aloud, Loki's voice is hoarse, ragged, but otherwise steady.]

Is this what you wanted to say? Is this what you thought you had to confess to me?

Balthazar seems unable to break the silence, so Loki gets several moments to try to rally. Slowly, weak and overwrought, he sinks onto his side, bound hands cradled against his chest, covering the scar that still lingers over his sternum. It doesn't help that he's been in the circle for enough time that his Grace feels numb, heavy and distant and still. It's really quite an unnatural sensation, and it's only been a couple hours yet.

No! [He answers Loki's question, voice crackling] No, I...or...maybe, but not really. [Not consciously.]

I thought--I really did think it would be a kind of justice. To suffer at least some of what you did. And I thought it would help you to see I'm not what you seem to think I am. I'm not good or kind or courageous. I'm a terrible angel, and even worse at pretending to be human. I broke when I Fell. Cas even said it, and he ought to have known; it takes one to know one.

[His breath hitches, a tiny, desperate, unpleasant little noise.] I just can't hold anything back any more, that's all. But I wish you could see yourself the way I do.

You're like a great big knot of thorns and every time I reach out to touch you I get jabbed, and I don't even care. You're defensive and snide and spiteful, vicious, and so damned beautiful and brave...and I want it, all of it. If you have to hate me to stay, break me, turn me inside out, I don't care. I want it.

[He laughs, and it's not a particularly mirthful sound, but there's a real release in the midst of it, a bubble of tension bursting in his chest.] Now tell me that's sane and healthy.

Edited (haha formatting) 2015-02-25 22:37 (UTC)

I can't.

[But he's fast grown used to the feeling that Balthazar must be insane. Then again, it's not like Loki is in a position to judge. Very little of him is sane or healthy...but it's good to hear out loud that the angel knows as much.

And yet...]

You say all of that, and yet you refuse to see yourself how I see you. What makes your assessment right and mine wrong?

[Seeing Balthazar like this, curled up on the floor, battered and exhausted, is a sight that brings up a great many bad memories. The sight of him wounded and bloody in the bargain - at Loki's hands, no less - only makes it worse. He's seized by a sudden urge, painful in its intensity, to lay himself down beside Balthazar and maybe never get up again, or at least reach out to stroke his hair.

He doesn't move, not sure if he should. Not sure if he has the right.]

I know what I see. I know what I feel. You're possessive and selfish and desperately arrogant, and for all of that even just being with you is like standing out in the sun.

[And the warmer and more pleasant the day, the more the coming of night or winter is dreaded.] Maybe that doesn't matter to you, maybe it's so simple that you've stopped thinking about it, but that's what you are to me, and I never want it to stop.

[Balthazar gives a slow, dazed blink, struck by the memory of that first morning in his flat in Chicago, when Loki tilted his face toward the light streaming in the windows. And he smiles, a lethargic, distant, completely genuine little smile, even through tears. ...the sun?]

You're staying... [He murmurs, mostly to remind himself that that wasn't really what this minor disaster was about. Loki never indicated he was planning on leaving for good, after all. That's a fear that Balthazar created for himself.

His eyes drift closed, only for a moment, not quite long enough to call into question whether he's passed out. When they open again there are still tears, but he looks slightly more focused, more alert. Gingerly, he uncurls and reaches out to Loki with the unhurt hand (although the injured one is along for the ride, given the cuffs).] Please...touch me?

[At this point, he doesn't really care whether Loki holds his hand or snaps more fingers. But he feels a step closer to being forgiven.]

[Loki blinks, genuinely surprised...and then he lets out a shaky sigh that ends in an annoyed sort of huff.] Of course.

[He can't be too irritated by the apparent inanity of the question. Balthazar was apparently concerned enough by his daytrips elsewhere, after all. But...no, that was never what this was about. Not even to Loki. To Loki, at least, it was about feeling weak and powerless and not knowing how to stop.

He draws back a little in reflexive shock at the whispered request, actually winces a little in sympathetic pain as Balthazar reaches out. And yet, for all that it's an apparently ridiculous request, after all of this...he knows how much it costs the angel to make. And Loki is in no position to deny Balthazar anything right now, even if he wanted to.

So Loki starts to move closer, pauses, and grabs the water bottle first. He settles into a sitting position near Balthazar's head, mindful of his wounded back and hand. And he doesn't offer the water bottle right away - first, he reaches out to curl a hand gently over Balthazar's uninjured one, threading their fingers together, reaches out with the other to just stroke through his hair, along the back of his neck.]

I'm here. [He speaks in little more than a hushed murmur, reassuring with a sort of fretful gentleness.] I'm here, and I want to be.

If I could have forever to wake up beside you...I couldn't possibly be more fortunate.

Should one of us have called 'red' a while back? [It's a lilting murmur, the faint smile turning lopsided. Even as shaken as he is, Balthazar is acute enough to recognize this hasn't quite gone according to plan.

On the other hand, he's in no hurry to leave the circle, even to heal and stop the pain, caught up in that psychological twilight where he still thinks he's fine, even if it's obvious he's not.

His eyes fall shut at the gentle touch, and he lets out a long, shaky sigh. But it's the words that really finish the job of unraveling him; he swallows hard, shudders, and slides quietly into sobs that sound as though they're being forcibly dragged out of his chest.]

[Begging, confession, and tears. Maybe it didn't go according to plan, and maybe it went exactly according to plan.

Not that Loki will ever claim credit to that effect. But he muses absently, even as he has to swallow painfully past tears of his own, that it probably says something about the two of them that no matter how wrong things might go along the way...they figure out how to make it work, in the end. It might even say something good.

Even Loki can't hold back his tears forever, emotionally exhausted as he is. They're quieter than Balthazar's sobs, but that's perhaps for the best. He makes no move or suggestion towards breaking the circle for now - they have hours to go, if they want them, if they decide to continue. Pre-emptively deciding that everything is all right now, or that they've said everything that needs saying, might do more harm than good.

But they have hours to go, if they want them, and so he allows himself to just take some time to just...touch gently, and reassure. Simple things that were meaningless before he met the angel and that he's now slowly discovering can mean the world.

He tries to guide Balthazar through the tears - encouraging rather than quieting, as he strokes along his arms and shoulders, over his cheek and through his hair. There are even moments when Loki whispers some of the words he's come to understand are endearments in Enochian, giving back a little of all that's been given to him.]

[As it turns out, it's everything Balthazar didn't know he needed. He feels drained, empty--but lighter. His crying doesn't ease right away, but minute by minute the sound becomes less tortured, less strangled, and the tension eases out of him. The unhurt fingers twined with Loki's fidget softly, seeking clumsily to stroke him in response.

The murmurs in Enochian set him off all over again, but more with delight than with grief or pain. He gasps and whimpers and gives little broken laughs, nodding with acknowledgement and gratitude. Later on he'll think to compliment Loki on his accent. Enochian is a strange language, not easy to master, but he's not that surprised Loki's picked up on it, even without tutelage.

Gradually he emerges from the haze of his emotion to observe Loki's own tears, and slowly raises himself on his elbows. Leaning in, he gives his cheek a featherlight kiss, then drops back down.] How do you feel?

[Before he does, Loki brushes his lips over Balthazar's cheek in turn.] I'm not sure. [But he sounds at peace with the idea - content, for now, to drift until he is sure.] Quiet, I suppose.

[And more than a bit pleased - it would have been enough to not embarrass himself with his pronunciation, but the angel looks a little like a man who's just caught a glimpse of light at the end of a tunnel. It helps that Loki has probably had plenty of opportunities to hear those particular endearments, and they happen to be some of his favorite recent memories.

Now that Balthazar seems to be calmer, Loki uncaps the water bottle and offers the other man more to drink, once again supporting his head if he has to. Only after does he ask:] How do you feel?

[His eyes are sparkling again, pupils still slightly dilated with the adrenaline rush. The tension is gone, though, despite lingering injury. He's content, stupidly content.

This is technically another luxury of being what he is. He's not worried about his wounds. They'll heal.]

I like your mouth. Tongue. [He murmurs, apropos of the previous endearments rather than the current conversation.] You're so good at saying terrible things and then just as good at very, very nice things.

[His eyes fall shut as he's helped with water. It doesn't even occur to him to protest or question whether he's actually thirsty. It seems to be more about the reassurance, and he needs that.] I feel...empty, but in a good way.

I like it, you know. Up until we started quarreling, I mean, and even that seems to have worked out for the best. [His eyes search Loki's mildly.] I liked the pain, and I liked how pleased you sounded when I followed your orders.

[Loki smiles, even as his gaze slides away for a moment - faintly embarrassed but also more than a bit pleased.] I'm glad you approve. [And he is. Loki knows that he has a gift for words, of course - sometimes it really is just a matter of flipping a switch in his head - but it's always nice to hear what he considers to be his greatest talent praised aloud.

Meanwhile, the water is about the reassurance, and the fussing. Loki is not good at taking care of people, on the whole. He has all the wrong instincts, and is only just remembering how to. But that doesn't stop him from wanting to. Even needing to, in this case - needing to help build back up what he's helped break down.

Even that's proving to be a sort of role reversal. He can certainly remember that first morning in the flat in Chicago, incapable and even just a bit unwilling to do anything but lay comfortably for the first time in too long and listen to Balthazar breathe, let himself be tended to. The sheer disparity in strength between them probably means that Loki hasn't had much cause to take care of the angel like this, and it's strangely cathartic.]

Yes, well. I won't pretend that you didn't make a very pretty sight, on your knees. [He closes his eyes for a moment, giving a thoughtful sort of hum, before adding:] But you said it yourself. As many false starts as we need.

And I think we might really need this.

And then some. [After the bottle is put away, he nuzzles Loki's hands lazily, like a cat enjoying being petted.

He's never had occasion to need any kind of fussing, at least not in a physical sense. If he weren't so worn out, he might be more embarrassed, but as it is this all feels like a treat, or a reward. If it does something for Loki, too, even better.

He gives a light, tremulous laugh and peers up through his eyelashes, flirting.] Oh, darling...you do think I'm pretty!

[As close as they are now, it's a matter of shifting a few inches to enable him to rest his head on Loki's nearest knee.] I think I've figured something out. I was created to obey; it was taken for granted. No one says 'good' when you follow an order you have no choice but to follow. But you did, and I liked it.

Or maybe I'm just greedy for attention. [He smiles up at him.] But if you want more, too, then yes, definitely. Now, or later, or both.

Very much so. [With an expression of mock contemplation, he adds:] I might even go so far as beautiful. Depending on the day, of course.

[He lets the angel rest his head against his knee, and continues petting him affectionately. And Loki listens carefully, because all of this...it seems important to know, or remember, about the two of them. And for all that he's picked up a word or two here and there of Enochian, there is very little he knows about angels themselves, or much about the life Balthazar led before they took up together.

It all seems very alien, even to him. Yet on some level, he does understand, and nods slowly in acknowledgement.] I suppose it's all right, if we're both greedy together.

More, yes. But later. After I've...caught my breath, so to speak. [More before the sigils lose their power, perhaps. More in future, definitely.

Loki does hesitate for a moment, before daring to bring up an idea that's been building in the back of his mind almost since Balthazar brought up this entire mad exchange in the first place.]

You...said that you'd done this sort of thing before. Both sides.

[He gives a small, hoarse laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners.] Well, I'll take the compliment next day you're feeling generous.

[Sooner or later, Balthazar will start feeling mildly guilty about getting doted on like this. It might be a while, though, at this rate. It's so peaceful, he's gone almost boneless.] I think I'm still catching mine, too. If nothing else, though, you may have to help me set a couple fingers before the circle winds down.

[He nods in answer, not thinking much of it initially.] Yes. More overtly sexual, for the most part, and usually people seemed to want me to top. I'm not sure why, unless it's something to do with the look of my vessel. I quite liked doing artsy things with rope.

[The penny drops a moment later.] Oh! Are you thinking you'd be interested in turning the tables?

[His heart always stutters a bit - a pleasant, fluttery sort of feeling - when Balthazar smiles like that. Loki is relieved to realize that that hasn't changed.]

Of course. [He'll help set all of them before the circle winds down, because broken bones is one area where healing more quickly is not always a good thing. Better they be set now than have to be rebroken later.

This is an area that Loki has an unfortunate amount of experience with. Balthazar was hardly the first man to torture him, after all.

Loki listens quietly, not quite sure how to come out and ask for what he really wants, especially after their fight. But oh, if he had his doubts about whether he actually wanted the tables turned on occasion, the way he has to swallow at the mention of "artsy things with rope" settles the matter.]

I am, yes.

I might not have been created to obey, but I've always felt...safer, with someone else in charge. [That hasn't always been the case, and the circumstances that brought him to that point were not remotely good ones. But it's a mindset he's settled into almost comfortably, not even noticing now.

Loki bows his head a little, averting his gaze as he nevertheless drags the words up from the depths of his mind, one by one.]

If you could, or...if you wanted to. I want to feel what it's like, knowing that I have the choice to say "stop".