( Completed ) Pet play | Axton X handsome Jack

Chapter 4: Dinner Date

Dinner Date

Axton sits there, unable to get off his knees. He feels dead inside. What had this horrible place turned him into? A ghost of himself. A confused soul broken beyond any form of repair.

Jack is gone now. The door hangs open from his leaving. Axton could run. But he doesn't. He just sits there. Dead. In a haze from the events that just took place. He doesn't feel anger, or fear, or....anything. He's just...void of all emotion. An empty glass cracked and shattered, he can hold no more. A Hyperion worker comes to fetch him. He's fixed with a lead again, and Axton struggles to his feet. More walking. More leading. More following.

They ride an elevator for what seems like an eternity. Axton leans hard against the wall, trying to keep himself standing. He's still very weak. His body now feeling all the aftermath of his actions. His muscles hurt and he aches all over. His stomach is twisting with hunger, and his mouth feels incredibly dry. He's beginning to remember how broken he really is. The horrors of torture are catching up with him. He feels a little lightheaded.

The ding of the elevator nearly makes him jump out of his skin. The Hyperion worker doesn't seem to notice nor care. This floor is different. The walls are no longer white, they are a warm yellow coloration. Wooden floors shimmer with fresh wax as does the wooden molding. Every once and a while there was a small table, decorated with a vase, sometimes a book.

This wasn't very Hyperion at all.

It felt...almost inviting.

The Hyperion worker pulled a set of keys from his belt and stopped at a heavy looking oak door with a small window in it. He popped the lock and pushed the door open. Axton cautiously followed the worker inside, half fearful it was a trap. The room was not as glorious as the hallway. This room was much colder. It had those same green walls, but it was much darker. A weak bulb hanging from the ceiling was the only sort of lighting. There was a meager cot butted against the back wall but that was the only type of furniture or dressing to the room. It was small, barely able to be considered a room. There was a small door on the back wall containing what Axton could only guess was some kind of bathroom. The Hyperion worker undid Axton's cuffs quickly and before Axton could even ask what he was doing here, the worker slammed the door shut. Axton heard the lock click and the steps of the worker leaving.

Axton stood there for a moment. Assessing the room and the surroundings.

If this was to be his prison...he could not complain...it was much nicer accommodations than the dungeons....

Axton flexed his hands slowly, standing unmoving in the middle of the space. He was alone. Alone to his thoughts. Axton slowly began to explore the room, with hesitant movements...fearing traps with every step he took. Fearing this was some false safe haven. Axton slowly opened the door at the back of the room. It was a small bathroom arrangement. Just a feeble sink, small toilet and a shower with no curtain, just a small drain into the floor. Axton sighed heavy. A shower had never looked so good in all his life.

The grime of the terrors still clinging to him, blood stained down his front from his bullet wound, he was the utter definition of filthy. Axton shed the white boxers, the hem red with the collection of old blood, the crotch sticky and a displeasing reminder of losing control of his own body and sanity.

He threw them out of sight, disgusted with himself. He turned the nobs on the shower. The water was warm. A godsend if there ever was one. Steam began to billow from the streaming water. Axton stepped into the stream, the hot water was a shock to his body.

He sighed out involuntarily.

His muscles seemed to unwind with the touch of the waters warmth. He simply came undone at the seams. The water ran down his back, coming off him in warm sheets. He braced his hands against the wall just letting the feeling wash over him. He closed his eyes, it felt too utterly good. For a moment he simply forgot about all the thoughts haunting his brain. Jack, Hyperion, everything was gone for all but a moment. He ran his hands through his wet hair slowly, sighing loudly. He had never been so thankful for something so small as a hot shower. His tense muscles finally relaxed, the blood clinging to his skin washed away, little runs of red being swept down the drain.