Work Text:
"Hold still, Dazai-Kun"
Hold still was an insult. Where could he go?
Wrists strapped down under stiff leather, arms, legs, waist, everything bound to cold steel.
He had struggled before. Squirmed, resisted, fought until sweat beaded up on his forehead and his chest heaved for air.
He had learned the hard way that resistance meant nothing. It was a way to make yourself sick and miserable before the torture even began.
And yet… The body that knows pain cant know stillness. Not truly. Instinct wouldn't allow for it.
Mori did this to him for thrills.
"Dazai-Kun, be a dear and let me test the potency of this new medicine we just received."
"Dazai-Kun, wont you let me see how well these new scalpels slice into your wrists?"
"Dazai-Kun, can you taste these pills in water? Will you throw them back up for me and try this next batch?"
Only 15 years old, he was a guinea pig. Not quite human. He never had been human in his master's eyes. He couldn't be.
Often now the tests came on without question, without consent. Participation wasn't just expected, it was unavoidable.
There was no denying the boss his whims.
No matter how sick.
Over time Mori only grew more bold. It was no surprise that he got off on it. The data he recorded wasn't measured in graphs and charts, it was measured in how arousing the screams sounded to him on that day.
Nothing was off limits.
How could anything be? He was a man with his devoted, suicidal plaything. The promise of ending Dazai's suffering always loomed like a carrot dangling on a string just out of reach.
He would keep him for as long as he was useful.. and no longer.
Dazai felt the true extent of how horrible life could be when you're useful under Mori.
If he could have drawn his blood and from it extracted the secret to Dazai's ability, he could let him die. He could end his life with mercy. But as far as Dazai knew, those tests hadn't been fruitful. God hadn't been so merciful- and neither would Mori.
He could swallow bitter pills that made the world fade away around him. He could grit his teeth through incisions- veins, arteries, severed just to watch him bleed.
It was nothing. Nothing in comparison to how he felt with his master's approval.
The way his lips curved into a sick smile when Dazai was particularly good. The tone in his voice when he put him back together again. That was, to Dazai, a purpose.
Meaning in the otherwise endless void.
Something he could seek out, something he could earn through his suffering.
The restraints felt comforting now. Something that reminded him that there was no point to struggling. It wasn't relaxation, but the absence of choice.
The absence of choice was a drug in itself.
Gloved hands moved over his body. Cold.
It was all part of the act of foreplay to Mori. The teasing. The terror behind his child subject's eyes. The little sounds that escaped him without his consent. Those aroused him the most.
"You have such beautiful eyes, Dazai-kun" the man hummed.
Truthfully it was the first time he had ever made a comment on his eyes. It both frightened and excited the boy. Being the recipient of his master's praise always did such strange things to his body, but in this context it only made him fear for what that statement might mean.
His hand ran up his arm, over his neck , chin, cheek.
Dazai closed his eyes on instinct.
Nothing hurt. Not yet. That was the worst of it.
Fingertips ran over smooth skin. unblemished even in his teenage years. Mori mused to himself often something about Dazai being an angel, a demon, some otherworldly creature not touched by the ugliness of humanity.
But he was.. All he could see in himself were blemishes. Scars, burns, stains of blood and dirt and whatever filth he had been in. That was what made him up.
A rogue hand gripped his hair, pulled back, drawing his eyes back open as he did.
Mori chuckled.
"I wish I could see inside your head, Dazai-Kun"
"You don't want to see in there.." the boy answered. It was bad enough that he had to be subjected to the torment of his own mind, he didn't need his only savior to be subjected to it as well.
"And why not?… There's so much behind those big eyes.."
He couldn't think of a response to that. Mori had a way of catching him off guard like this. Acting with sweetness only to mask whatever he was truly thinking about.
A finger slid to press against his eyelid, drawing it back uncomfortably so the boy couldn't blink despite his best efforts.
A blunt instrument came in closer. Too close. Poking at the sclera and forcing Dazai to inhale a sharp gasp. His body reacted on instinct, trying to blink, to squeeze his eyes shut- but to no avail.
It burned. The most unnatural pain. Too close to everywhere the body tries to protect. The gasp didn't stop Mori's exploration of his subject. It only urged him on.
"Dont move too much… One wrong move and I could blind you, you know.."
"Please Mori-San! Please, it hurts. It really hurts!"
"I knowww, I know it does" he cooed with such love in his tone it made Dazai feel weak.
"But you'll let me do what I want, Dazai-kun.."
His gloved finger now replaced the blunt object in his hand, touching, feeling over the sensitive organ. He let the eyelid close around his fingers, water welling up and pouring down Dazai's cheek.
It felt excruciating. He preferred the blade, the drugs, the cigarettes put out on his skin. This was too visceral. Too primal of a fear to be swallowed down and ignored.
Fingers dug into the eye, pressing, squeezing, moving as though trying to take the organ out using feather light touch.
Dazai didn't realize he was screaming until he felt his lungs burned. The sound enticed the man, pressing more firmly into the eye until hot tears mixed with something else. Red filled his vision. Red coursed hotly down his skin, it's warmth sickening as it flowed towards the ground.
"Ahhh.." Mori moaned. "My perfect boy.. My beautiful, perfect boy."
Dazai wailed in agony. His vision in his right eye was entirely gone. He wasn't sure if he would ever see out of that eye again.
He didn't feel the restraints coming loose.. all he knew was that suddenly his arms were free to grasp at the wound. Pulling back stained deep crimson red. He tried to rub it away on instinct, smearing blood down his jacket arm.
Mori scooped him up like he were cradling a newborn in his arms. His voice settled over Dazai's ear hot and low, cooing to him about how beautiful and how perfect he was. Bandages were placed over the wound, wrapped around his head with meticulous care.
"There we are, my sweet.. Let me care for you. Let me fix it all better."
His voice was overly kind in a way that made Dazai's stomach turn.. He hated when he talked to him like he was a baby. But it didn't change the fact that the boy clung to him as if a sinner to his salvation.
Blood stained their clothes as the man played with the boy's hair. Once harsh hands now tender. An apology made of slow, dutiful motion. The holy father smoothing over the aches of his creation.
Dazai never knew what he cried out during these sessions.. Words that didn't make sense to him. Sometimes he cried for his father. Other times he could only babble "Please, please, please" to some unknown source.
The words didn't matter. Not as much as the outcome.
Each new test of his faith must be solidified into devotion through comfort. Turning the pain into sick progress. Proof.
Proof of what he couldn't name.
Love?
Was this love?
The fingers dug into his eyes, clawing up blood for the sick thrill of feeling it pool into his palm. Hurting him to see him cry, to hear him wail. Was it not, in its own way, the only tangible proof he had of his own worth?
Was proof against worthlessness not love?
Were those same fingers, now innocently tangling through a mess of brown hair, not the same that tore him apart?
How could he be so cruel.. How could he be so kind?
The reward of being held. Feeling the gentle touch of another person. It would make up for the agony. It had to.
Hearing the man's heart beating in that terrible rhythm against his ear while tears soaked into his white lab coat. Feeling hot arousal just beneath the surface and knowing that it was because of his own agony that his lover felt the heights of such pleasure.
If he had no pain, he would have nothing at all.
If Mori were merciful he would sedate him before he took his pleasure.
But Mori, like God, was not a merciful man.