Stop Using Me {suna x uke male}

book 2 chp: 52

Their steps echoed with each touch. The miniature prison seemed dark and lonely, dingy. Almost as if they were seeing black and grey instead of color, and that was on purpose. Not even lights flickered, it was just dim. Pathetic.

Dexter grimaced. He'd lose his mind if he was locked up here, and that was saying a lot. Dexter glanced at (M/N), hoping he could read how he felt, but there wasn't a clue. (M/N)'s face was blank and his shoulders straight. He wielded such power and it showed, he made it known.

His mind was twisted, but (M/N) loved the game. Gave him a euphoric relief. He was someome Dexter should stay away from, he may be his son by blood, but he wasn't exactly his son anymore. That won't stop the older man. He'll learn (M/N).

(M/N) put his hand out, his knuckles flexing as Dexter hit them. He raised a brow and looked at his son, still not getting a read on him. It should bother him, but it doesn't, (M/N) has the blood of an Ishinok. It was bound to happen.

"Wait here." (M/N) said.

He tilted his head to look at Dexter, lowering his hand and waiting. Dexter pursed his lips, looking almost in thought. He wanted (M/N) to elaborate, and (M/N) wanted confirmation that Dexter understood and would listen.

"I don't like repeating myself, Dexter." (M/N) said, lips pressing in a thin line.

Dexter relaxed his shoulders and sighed. He gave a brief nod, but that didn't satisfy (M/N). He liked words. Dexter almost rolled his eyes at that, he was like Maeve in that way. He wondered if (M/N) treated Maeve this coldly, but probably not. He assumed Maeve was dead, he felt abandoned by Dexter.

"Alright." Dexter began. "I'll wait here. Call me if you need anything."

"I'll call you when I'm ready to show you." (M/N) said, stuffing his gloved hands in his pockets.

"Fine by me." Dexter said.

(M/N) felt a twitch of a smile filter up, but he shoved it down. He had a reputation to uphold and he was still internally arguing with himself about warming up to Dexter or not. He cared for him, he did, really, but it was difficult. He wasn't sure how to feel all that much, at least not right now. He'll talk to Suna.

He opened the cell door, instead of the bars, it was an actual metal door. (M/N) had him switched when he and Dexter were coming back, somewhere less comfortable. Not that there was any comfort to begin with.

Dexter glanced in, body pressed against the wall and head tilted. His eyes widened for the briefest moment before it was shoved to nothing. The room was disgusting. The floors looked moldy and dirty, the bed was on its last hinges attached to the wall by chains, no windows, the toilet probably didn't work, it smelled rotten and it was bare.

And best of all.

Alizer was on the floor, head down and arms weak. He was the shell of a man he used to be, one who used to give Dexter pain and was now feeling it years later by his son. The muscle mass he's had over the years dwindled in the months because of how (M/N) treated him. Barely any food and water and nothing to keep his strength up. Alizer was a walking tombstone, and (M/N) was ready to carve this date into it.

(M/N) glanced at Dexter and Dexter straightened, he looked away. Making himself as inviable as he could, but still able to hear. (M/N) closed the door, but opened up the little area they shoved food in, that way Dexter could hear.

"If you're going to kill me, just do it." Alizer's voice rang hoarse and tired.

(M/N) walked around the cell, fingers up and tracing the wall without actually tracing it. His steps quiet, Alizer felt he was being taunted and the sound was just echoing off his skull.