Sick

Treatment

No, this wasn't what Oliver planned at all. He was certain that he had the shatters of Allen's mind in the palm of his hand, he could have bet his life on it. But here he was, laid back gingerly on his bloodied bed, the man, he was so sure should have been a babbling wreck, towering over him. Allen tsked and waved the previously discarded kitchen knife in front of the red head, shaking his head almost as if he'd caught a child up to mischief. Funny that, he should have been the one looking childish.

"I know what you've done." He spoke, voice low and husky. His grin was all too toothy, all too confident. "I trusted you. I let you in."

Oliver opened his mouth to speak but found the words turned to white noise in his mind. Drugged. He'd been drugged like when he first dragged Allen to this unholy place. Panic set in with a dull ache, Oliver's head dropped as he tried to think just where he'd gone wrong.

"I'm surprised at you, Doll. I didn't think you'd make a kid out of me." Allen chuckled, yanking Oliver's matted hair and forcing blood shot red to meet with lightless blue. The Brit was terrified but couldn't convey it and Allen knew that. He relished it, the absolute control, the knowledge he'd outsmarted the man who tried to infantilize him. "Right from the start I liked you, Doll, I really did. I'll be honest; the cannibalism had been going on longer than our sessions. I guess I needed you to trust me as much you needed me to trust you."

The knife was pressed to Oliver's exposed abdominal wall and he whimpered, silently begging for anything but that. Allen snatched the blade away and the red head gasped in relief. Hot, bloodied fingertips ghosted over the burnt edges of the wound, almost mournful.

"I didn't want to leave any marks on you. You have beautiful skin you know? But when you offered it was so tempting." The American smirked, slowly pulling off the bed, letting his leaving weight force the mattress to jolt the drugged man. "Stay right here, doll, let's fix you up."

Oliver felt his painfully dry eyes well with tears, hot and fat down his cheeks. With a pathetic sob he kept still on the bed and looked around at the array of ripped clothes and dried bile and blood. This wasn't what he wanted. He originally wanted to make Allen like his child, something he could never have himself, but then his affections grew into something more lustful and he wanted more. By then it was too late, he believed he'd made Allen's mind regress too far, evidently not, and could only indulge himself in sick acts hoping it would satisfy him.  When Allen returned, he held up a threaded needle and began sewing the torn flesh back together with Oliver's prized embroidery thread. He was rough and careless but made neat stitches and knotted everything tight, kissing each threat entry softly when he'd finished.

"I want to keep you, doll. I want to make you so pretty again and keep you waiting in my house for whenever I want." He whispered, dragging his tongue up Oliver's navel to his jaw. "You'd like that wouldn't you? You wouldn't have to do anything. Just lie there and do as I say."

Under different circumstances Oliver would have shivered with delight, but at present the offer made his insides churn. Where had the sweet misunderstood youth from his therapy sessions gone?

Allen made a displeased face, growling low in his throat. The Brit winced and pushed himself to meet Allen's eyes with more attention, this softened the American who brushed his cheek and smiled some. Oliver's heart throbbed, wanting so desperately to please his captor but only the old version it had be obsessed with, not this twisted wretch. Allen craned his neck down to breathe against cold cheeks and lap away died blood, moaning at the coppery taste.

"You taste sweet. No need to worry, I won't eat you. I want to keep you remember? But, I'm not a cruel man nor am I wasteful. One way or another you'll be mine forever." He promised and Oliver knew what that meant. If he didn't comply Allen would eat him, reduce him down to a butchered animal and slaughter him then and there. It wasn't that he didn't want to be with the other man,  he just didn't want it like this but, oh how the delusional thoughts of waking up beside the tanned boy, all bright eyed and loving, appealed to him. Nodding as much as his heavy head would let him he complied and Allen smirked, pulling him by the throat into a hungry kiss,  filled with blood, sharp teeth and an evading tongue.

"You're mine now, Doll." The man snarled out and Oliver knew just how accurate that was about to become.