Inside // Septiplier

Chapter 10

Dark eyed Jack, a look of pity yet disgust aimed directly towards the small figure below. In delight, Anti's eye glimmered savouring the moments of Jack's defeat. "You did say you liked your victims to be submissive." Taken aback by Anti's sudden remark, Dark scoffed with vexation. "He's all yours." Dark replied, retreating back to the unknown depths of Mark's internal suffering. Looking behind Anti confirmed of Dark's absence, intent on beginning his fun without any interruptions. Especially from the lustful Dark, after all they were currently sharing one vessel.

"Does it hurt to see your best friend hurt you Jackie?" Replying, Jack swivelled his head to the side bent on ignoring Anti's mockery. Upon seeing this, Anti sighed with disappointment before delivering a sharp blow to the man's side. Although torn, the leather shoes dug into Jack's side causing a familiar sense of pain. Ready to release another angered hit, Anti spiralled backwards reacting to a sudden reflex.

"Come to ruin my fun again?"

"Leave him alone."

"Prince come to rescue his damsel in distress?" Dark fumed, pierced eyes darting towards the prancing leprechaun.

"You're just another sad excuse, like Mark."

"Watch it, Anti. I won't hesitate."

"Oh, I'm so scared. Darkiplier is going to hurt me. Oh no."

"I'm warning you."

"Come on. I dare you."

A quick glance at Jack confirmed his decision, a small distinct movement from his quivering lips mouthing his answer. "Don't." Dark stared into his pleading eyes, a mixture of anger fixated on the actions both he and Anti had inflicted on both men, yet a sense of dread aimed at Dark, a fear of the outcome from these inhuman creatures. The Irish man suddenly flinched as Mark drew nearer, the spiralling questions of the enactment these monsters would participate in. The dark silhouette of his enormous stature towered over Jack, the man only left regretting his actions and awaiting the following consequences. Instead the warmth of pressed flesh felt against his flushed cheeks. Time stopped for a second although it felt like an hour. A reassuring chuckle answered his question, a different expression faced towards the submerging ocean swimming through his innocent eyes. Concealing the inviting pools through covering them with layers of crinkled lines, by the time Jack had reopened his dilated pupils, Mark had disappeared.

A scan of the familiar room no longer satisfied him, a bland warehouse he supposed contained some source of entertainment in movies and TV shows, yet before him was an empty wasteland only filled with the smell of failure and hopelessness. A swift movement led to him staring at his tarnished overalls, one could say the hoodie was intact, others would argue it to be no longer usable. Lashes and unstitching of seams appeared throughout the entirety of his outfit, one tear would unlock Jack's only sense of security. Fumbling his worn fingers, Jack spied Mark's own ripped items of clothing piled under the glow of the flickering, luminescent light. The idea of Mark walking around in public in the state Jack had saw made him slightly smirk. Entertainment did come at a price after all. Tattered jeans surrounded his warm limbs, coated in an array of multiple dark brown strands. Nostalgia began to ride throughout Jack as he attempted to relive the waxing challenge he had recorded for St Patrick's Day. Those were the days. For now, he'd have a moment of artificial tranquillity and he craved to relish in it.

Drawn back to the dreadful reality, Jack continued to analyse his remains. An odd sensation overcame him as he began to image Dark's prior episode. In his perspective, he would've described it as an action a baby would receive to their mother, although in this case Jack shivered at the idea of fitting both characters into his scenario. His lips had gingerly caressed the small shape, gently topping with warm saliva, a sudden nibble against the round, hardened object released a resistant yelp from the frail figure. Captive between his prison the pulsing rushed throughout Dark's own vessel. He was being careful, Jack wondered as to why he was left without pain. The idea stirred him, Dark's playful action perhaps even left him with a sense of arousal. It was unusual of someone who often contributed in intentions of torment and infliction to treat someone with such attention. Jack widened his eyes in horror as he began to introduce the impression that he had adored Dark's present. Astonishment was still present through his disturbed expression as his fellow companion strolled in breaking Jack's deafening silence but he contemplated whether he desired to explore his theory further.

The scratching of a chalkboard left Mark's damaged throat, his signature assuring grin plastered on his suffering face. "Jack, they left me. Dark took Anti away and I woke up without any sign of them. Thank fuck, huh?" Hearing about Dark's departure made Jack solemn if only for a millisecond, aware of his reaction he grasped back towards Mark shaking the thought out of his worn mind. "Fuck Mark, you really took a beating. We'll get it fixed aight, promise ya. If ya wouldn't mind uncuffing me heh." Mark's expression twitched at the sound of Jack's own hoarse voice, both men would head to the nearest establishment offering aid. "I'll take off that silly piece of shit too." Mark clasped his hands gently around Jack's tensed neck, a relieved sensation in reply to the release of the leather collar, a symbol brandishing Jack as owned by Dark. The experience of his terse, tenacious fingers riding against his flinched shoulders, warm body pressed against his own protruding spine, a slight breath by the side of his heated flesh, a soft reward placed on his left cheek, it was now removed all through the minimal action of unfastening a leather collar. Although indecisive, Jack felt himself long for more.

"C'mon buddy, our fans are probably thinking we're yknow hah." Rubbing his wrists tenderly, Mark reached out with a comforting gesture even a simple handshake would've consoled Jack. Although a burning sensation began to ride throughout his shaken limbs, Jack was thankful that at last he was free of his metallic leash. Dark had referred to him as his "bitch" and Jack was now fully aware of how Dark intended to direct that fantasy. "Mark, will they come back?" A sharp sigh fell from Mark's chapped lips before diverting Jack to his injuries instead. "Let's get those fixed then we can talk about them." A reluctant nod was all that Jack could reply with, the uneasiness filled him as he acknowledged that both he and Mark knew of their reappearance. However, with the knowledge of Dark resurfacing Jack concealed his jumbled emotions including one of happiness. Maybe he did want Dark to return.