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Twisted Desires

Aang woke with a start, rapidly recalling the blurry events that led to him being suspended (arms behind his back, knees bent) in the middle of a black, leather padded cell.
Frantically, the young (well, not really) airbender jerked his head across the room, looking for a way out.

But the only door was the one right of him, cracked ever so slightly... were those footsteps? Aang's breathing became even more audible, his heart beating faster than a sky bison on crack.
He let slip a whimper as it creaked open. "Well hello, Avatar."
The airbender gasped; at least as far as the black strip of fabric over his mouth allowed. It was M. Night Shyamalan!
"No need to be so suprised. It's not like this the end of one of my movies." Chortled the man smiling cruelly just 2 feet away. "Do you wanna make a movie, Aang?" Lurching, leering over him, he had darted foward in a blink.
The bald clenched his eyes, craning his neck to get as far away from this monster as he could. "No? Aww, that's too bad." The Indian man said shaking his head, digging through a bag until he found what he was looking for.

A whip.

A shrill squeak escaped the back of his victim's throat. M smirked, revealing his at-least-whiter-than-the-author-of-this-story's teeth. He slowly, methodically stuttered over to the captive airbender, putting one thigh-high stilletoed foot in front of the other.
Aang clenched up, not wanting to see the lust in his attacker's eyes any longer. He didn't want to think of what was most likely inevitably going to happen, but the heat slinking slowly in circles was no amateur.
"So, I hear you've been making my daughter very happy recently." Night remarked in fake causality, knowing full and well he was giving the kid more time to dread. Aang coughed, loosening the gag. "She must just watch the show!" He rasped. "You misunderstand-"
A hand tightly clamped around his jaw. "I know that, you silly boy." The director chuckled. "Unfortunately for you, I have rather; hmm, let's say... 'creative' tastes." "P-please... just let me g-" The whip cracked down on his back. Aang bit his lip with a muffled shrill, refusing to give in so easily.
The director smiled, working the fold down his captive's spine. His grin broadened at the resulting shudder, and he threw the rattailed cord back and sent a second strike.

Aang's teeth gritted together so firmly it felt as though they would chip. His clothes were starting to tear, and his flesh felt as though it was on fire, but even that was preferable to having the bastard try to act like this was alright. Trying to convince him he enjoyed this. The airbender clamped his lids even closer.

He was gonna have to weather this out.

Shyamalan frowned. It had been almost an hour now, and despite the bleeding gashes that now slashed across each other under the orange now shreds, he had yet to let out anything more satisfying than a yip. Changing his tactics, he returned to the black doctor's bag, this time pulling out a syringe.
Stepping up to the shudderingly breathing avatar, he, without another word, inserted it into his neck.
Aang's eyes immediately shot open, suddenly overcome with delirium and exhaustion. He tried to beg, to plead; for this to just stop, but it all ended up as whining noises and moans.
Shyamalan sniffed up the spot where the needle had hit, ever so slightly toying it with his teeth. Aang's head rolled over, resting on his attacker's. High pants and snorts result from the further bites, rapid sighs leaving drowsy and parched throats. Internally, he smiled, glad this had started to work.
The frantic sounds and lolling increased, Aang burrowing into his captor's cheek. M pushed into a kiss, the two furious on each other.
Suddenly Aang slid one of his hands out of its shackles, and reached into the front of his shirt....

The part still covered.

"Allah akbar"
A deafening din tore through the city, the shattering and crumbling indistinguishable.

"what a twist." Wheezed the assulter, and with that he released his last breath.