Do I Need It? (Am I Under Control?)

But Do I Need You To Survive?

I fucking hate fics where misunderstandings go on for too long, so hopefully my pen decides the issues should resolve themselves in a few chapters.

Blood-soaked fangs circled him, each snapping at him, biting, sucking non-stop. No matter how hard he screamed. It didn't matter how much it hurt. They'd never think about the pain they'd caused him, never cared. They were the predators, he the willing prey. And once they had their fill, once they were done with him, he would be once again thrown out onto the street, three more primes in his pocket, four litres of blood less pumping through his tired, too-hurt, too-small body.

Nobody would care, even if they saw. Nobody cared about a street rat like him. Why would they? He was nobody's child, nobody's lover and nobody's pet. A pet would have at least a bowl of water.

Did he even want to be a pet? No. He would never again be owned property, never bought and sold like some feral street dog. Did that even matter if he was all too ready to sell himself? Was it allowing him freedom? Or was he happily locking himself into his own shackles?

More bites struck his body, making it jolt about horribly. The largest set of fangs opened their mouth wider now. It grew in size and at that moment, a horrible realisation struck his head. He'd recognise those teeth anywhere. "You're mine, Tommy! And you always will be! Don't forget it!" The teeth cried out, blood -his blood- seeping out from it's too-red lips.

"No- I'm- I'm not! I got out!" Tommy yelled, curling up tighter into the ball he found himself in. The ball he always found himself in, his retreat, his safe space, his-

"Fuck!" The teeth bit into his neck and ripped themselves out again, again and again, wound after wound becoming Tommy's whole body. "Please don't kill me!" He pleaded, knowing his- his old owner would never kill him. Would never allow Tommy to retreat so far away. "Tut, tut, what did I say about little boys that curse?" It asked.

They both knew the answer. They both knew it so well. "You're - You're not real! It's a dream, this all is!" He screamed, thrashing in his little ball as though he'd appear more threatening than if he just curled up, if he just submitted like a good little-

The voice laughed, a booming, powerful laugh. "Are you sure about that?" It asked. Tommy thought for a moment. What was he ready to risk in this void he found himself trapped in. How sure was he really? He realised then and there he already had his answer.

"I am." He stood up, the biting teeth backing off as though scared of him. "Quit- Quit fucking gaslighting me, asshole!"

"That's no way to talk to your owner is it, Toms?" It asked. But Tommy wasn't having it. Tommy wasn't about to allow that abusive asshole to ruin his life again, to hurt him, to manipulate him, to use him over and over again.

"Fuck. You." Tommy flipped the set of fangs off. Waves of power rushed over him. He felt as though he could run a marathon. He felt amazing.

CHIRP

He opened his eyes, the sound of birdsong greatly annoying him. "Ugh..." He groaned. But it wasn't the birds that was the worst part, no. It was the fact that his whole fucking body was killing him. Memories of the night before rushed back: him passing out, Techno... Techno hurting him, everything. Memories came flooding back in like a tsunami crashing against a sea wall, the water rushing in, every defence useless against the sheer speed of the sea.

Memories he found all to easy to get swept into.

Tommy thought for a moment about the night before. What the fuck? How fucking dare Techno not give him any venom! He tried to move his wrist slightly but the pain was far too much. He sighed. Why was it too much to ask Techno to fix the wound he caused after biting into his fucking wrist?

What could he do about it anyway? He was basically incapacitated from the pain. Fuck, that was what it was, Tommy realised. It was all a power play to get him to depend on him and then the Crafts would hit him and then... Tommy didn't want to think about what would happen then. What had happened before...

It was why young people like him had to be so careful about where their blood went. If you became the blood bag of the wrong people...

Tommy decided to try and roll over to get back to sleep. That way, he could conserve energy and have to ask for less food, which meant there'd be less time to manipulate him. He was just getting into the proper sleeping position when all of a sudden, "Hallo."