Work Text:
There was a needle in his neck.
Richard turned quickly, already having to fight what had been injected into his bloodstream.
“Jim,” he whined, reaching out for his brother. Jim was smiling at him, leering. It made Richard scared.
“Hush, bunny, it won’t hurt,” Jim soothed, taking Richard’s book from him and setting it on the coffee table.
“Jim,” Richard repeated, the word tight and quiet and afraid. Jim helped his twin to his feet, guiding him into the bedroom, siding him when he whined or whimpered or tried to protest.
“Bunny, you’re going to be fine. Just lay down and go to sleep. When you wake up it will be morning and everything will be okay. I promise nothing will hurt.”
Richard mewled but eventually gave up fighting and collapsed onto their bed, staring at the ceiling until his eyes slipped closed for good and he went fully limp. Jim let out his breath and stepped forward, watching Richard’s chest rise and fall as he breathed and thinking he might very well come in his trousers from seeing Richard so helpless.
No. He’d done this for a reason and he’d go through with it.
The idea had come to him when Richard had cut his hand on a prop a few weeks earlier and had to get stitches.
They had looked beautiful in his skin, black and unnatural. He hadn’t gotten to see the put in, he didn’t even learn about the injury until Richard had staggered home, doped up on some sort of pain pill or another and insisting they watch the first Harry Potter move twice in a row.
And fuck, he’d been wanking over getting Richard like this for weeks, practicing with cats until he though he could do it with a human without hurting them too much.
The first thing Jim did was dab disinfectant around Richard’s lips, deciding four or five stitches would be enough.
The first stitch was the hardest, the needle pressing in smoothly, but he wasn’t sure if Richard would wake up or not, the feeling of uncertainty almost making Jim’s hands shake. After that it was easy sewing his twin’s mouth shut.
It was beautiful, the stitches keeping his soft lips together, the droplets of blood settling on them. He leaned down and licked at Richard’s lips, freeing the stitches against his tongue, tasting the copper blood.
Jim leaned back, looking at his brother and thinking there was something missing.
He could still sew Richard’s eyes shut.
It took three stitches in each eye and they seemed to bleed more than his lips had, Jim licked that off and then just looked at Richard.
“Fucking gorgeous,” Jim muttered, pulling Richard’s shirt up over his shoulders, making sure not to let it touch his face. He wouldn’t dare say this at a time when Richard could hear him, that would give him a big head and make him proud and nerve he’d get brave enough to leave. Jim wouldn’t have that happen so he stayed quiet.
Jim stripped down too, feeling the air on his warm skin, Richard crushed beneath him, blank and he didn’t even move. Jim pulled back slathering lube onto his fingers and setting about with stretching open, not able to tell if he was stretching him too much and not entirely caring.
Jim didn’t spend too long on stretching Richard, he was already so relaxed but still oh so fucking tightaround Jims cock when he pushed in slowly. He didn’t want to hurt his little bunny, if Richard could feel it or not.
Jim pushed in slowly, Richard’s body stretched beneath him, his head twisted almost unnaturally so Jim could see his face, the stitches. Jim thought about touching Richard’s soft prick, but he wouldn’t get hard from this and anyway, it might disturb him and Jim wanted to focus on himself tonight.
If he were to wake up he’d be nearly cut off from everything. He’d cry and probably tear the skin and he would bleed. Maybe he’d be okay with it and ask to stay that way forever. Richard got so scared sometimes, being cut off might actually help him.
Maybe Jim would leave the stitches in.
Jim gave up on trying to be gentle, pressing his fingers onto the stitches in Richard’s lips, cutting into the skin and watching the blood drip down his cheek and onto the pillow, the other hand digging into his hips. Richard was so pale and beautiful and for once he looked peaceful while he slept, no nightmares would plague his brother tonight.
Richard’s arse didn’t clench when Jim came, he didn’t buck his hips and beg for Jim to get him off.
There was no response, Richard stayed still and limp. There was no begging for Jim to stay and cuddle, no sharing ragged breaths and no desperation and soft, slick skin, the feeling of more even though they were already both spent.
Jim held his brother close for a long time, his prick softening inside of Richard, still tracing his hands over the stitches on Richard’s face.
“My rag doll,” Jim mumbled, pressing kisses to his brother’s neck. “You’re so bloody beautiful. I hope you never find out. You’re so broken. Not even a puzzle, I know how you work.”
Jim sat up finally and thought Richard looked dead and decided that was a fantasy for another day. In all honestly he wouldn’t be surprised if he’d accidentally killed his brother. When he’d found Richard hurting himself, sobbing because he was fat and useless and disgusting, like he actually believed it, he was shocked. He had thought that Jim was helping by telling Richard his flaws and well, he didn’t stop though he started noticing the hurt in Richard’s eyes. Maybe he even started to like it.
He wouldn’t be surprised if he accidentally pushed Richard too far, he was so frail.
“Fraying around the edges and falling apart at the seams,” Jim continued. “Am I the only thing keeping you together, my love? Am I your tangled strings and you my cheap marionette? All you are is yarn and cotton. My rag doll.”
He was just babbling now, he had no idea what he was saying, he was just glad to be babbling and not have Richard interrupt or ask him things.
“Buttons for eyes and you can’t speak. Maybe I’m just imagining you, my sweet.” Jim sighed heavily and sucked at the stitches around Richard’s lips again. He should clean Richard off, take the stitches out, make sure everything was set so he wouldn’t have an anxiety attack when he woke up.
Or maybe he’d just sit and watch him for a while.