An Evening's Entertainment
Mar. 6th, 2013 02:20 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
intheheartTitle: An Evening's Entertainment
Rating: R for violence, onscreen and implied.
Summary: Aaron is bored, and Brett has it coming.
Warnings: torture (specifically burning with a cigarette), Brett.
AU: Sociopathic Besties
Notes: So Kelly wrote a bit about the first time Brett hit Brenda. And then I sicced sociopath!Aaron on him. Because... because.
The man was beginning to stir and groan, his head rocking on the pillow. Aaron put down his fourth cup of tea and leaned forward, resting his chin on the back of the chair he straddled. It wa about time—it had been a long and irritating two hours since he'd been ready for this, and he did not like to wait.
"You've annoyed me," he said, conversationally, when the man's eyes cracked open. "That is not a good start."
The man groaned, and muttered, "Brenda?"
"No," Aaron said, annoyed even further. He might have quite a pleasant tenor, but he did not sound like a Brenda. He leaned over, flicked at the man's cheek. "Wake up."
The man stirred, tugged at his hands, but didn't yet seem to register that they were bound to the bed. "Where's Brenda? S'posed to be here..." His voice was darkening. Aaron was losing patience quickly.
"If Brenda is the dark-haired woman," he said, "I doubt she's missing you. Actually, I doubt anyone's missing you."
It seemed to dawn on the man all at once—Aaron's presence, the ties on his wrists and ankles, the lack of Brenda, whoever she was—and he bounced up, or tried to, before the ties yanked him hard back against the bed. "Who the fuck are you?"
"Much better," Aaron said, and leans back, picks up his tools. He didn't smoke but several dozen people at the bar did, and it was child's play to acquire a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. He lit one, waved it vaguely in the air, enjoying the patterns of the smoke in the air. "You know, I really am glad we met. I've been so bored this vacation."
"I don't think you heard me," the man said, in what he probably thought was a dangerous growl. How sweet. "Who the fuck are you, and what the fuck do you think you're doing?"
"I heard you," he replied, mildly. "I just don't choose to answer."
"You better choose it fast, fucker," the man snarled, and Aaron couldn't help himself: he snorted out a laugh. "The fuck's so funny?
Aaron shook his head, and smiled at the man. "Oh, you, of course. You think you're in charge here. That's... almost adorable, really." He patted the man's cheek and laughed again when the man whipped his head around, trying to bite him. "I've heard this before, though. You'd better change it up or I might get bored." He eyed the lit cigarette thoughtfully. "Who knows what I might do then."
"You better let me go," the man said. "You better let me go right now, or..."
Aaron let a moment of silence go by, then inquired, "Or what?" When the man didn't answer, he nodded. "I thought so. I'll be perfectly honest with you. Your life depends on how much you entertain me."
The man stared at him for a moment, then said, in flat tones, "What."
"Was I unclear?" Aaron asked, as politely as he could manage. "I am on vacation with my family and I am unspeakably bored. Your job is to amuse me. If you don't, I'll kill you." He shrugged. "If you do, I'll let you go. It's really quite that simple."
Not that he actually intended to let the man go. That would be stupid, and Aaron was not at all stupid. But it was fun, to watch them hope.
"Entertain you," the man said, and began to laugh, a little hysterically. "You want me to entertain you? Fuck you, you son of a bitch, I don't have to do shit. I'm not going to dance to your fucking—" He cut himself off with a scream.
Aaron lifted the cigarette and admired the cherry red burn on the man's neck. "Well, actually," he said, nearly apologetic, "you do. Or more accurately, you will." He pressed the cigarette to the man's neck again, held it there while he spoke above his screams. "I'm very creative, you'll find; the more so the more bored I am. And I am very, very—" he twisted the cigarette—"bored."
The man broke down into sobs, so Aaron stubbed the cigarette out in his shoulder and dropped it onto the table, then folded his arms over the top of the chair. "So," he said. "That's the first step. How do you feel?"
"Fuck you," the man spat, between sobs.
Aaron shrugged. "All right," he said, and leaned down to pick up his next little toy.
It was going to be a long night.
He planned to enjoy every minute.
Rating: R for violence, onscreen and implied.
Summary: Aaron is bored, and Brett has it coming.
Warnings: torture (specifically burning with a cigarette), Brett.
AU: Sociopathic Besties
Notes: So Kelly wrote a bit about the first time Brett hit Brenda. And then I sicced sociopath!Aaron on him. Because... because.
The man was beginning to stir and groan, his head rocking on the pillow. Aaron put down his fourth cup of tea and leaned forward, resting his chin on the back of the chair he straddled. It wa about time—it had been a long and irritating two hours since he'd been ready for this, and he did not like to wait.
"You've annoyed me," he said, conversationally, when the man's eyes cracked open. "That is not a good start."
The man groaned, and muttered, "Brenda?"
"No," Aaron said, annoyed even further. He might have quite a pleasant tenor, but he did not sound like a Brenda. He leaned over, flicked at the man's cheek. "Wake up."
The man stirred, tugged at his hands, but didn't yet seem to register that they were bound to the bed. "Where's Brenda? S'posed to be here..." His voice was darkening. Aaron was losing patience quickly.
"If Brenda is the dark-haired woman," he said, "I doubt she's missing you. Actually, I doubt anyone's missing you."
It seemed to dawn on the man all at once—Aaron's presence, the ties on his wrists and ankles, the lack of Brenda, whoever she was—and he bounced up, or tried to, before the ties yanked him hard back against the bed. "Who the fuck are you?"
"Much better," Aaron said, and leans back, picks up his tools. He didn't smoke but several dozen people at the bar did, and it was child's play to acquire a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. He lit one, waved it vaguely in the air, enjoying the patterns of the smoke in the air. "You know, I really am glad we met. I've been so bored this vacation."
"I don't think you heard me," the man said, in what he probably thought was a dangerous growl. How sweet. "Who the fuck are you, and what the fuck do you think you're doing?"
"I heard you," he replied, mildly. "I just don't choose to answer."
"You better choose it fast, fucker," the man snarled, and Aaron couldn't help himself: he snorted out a laugh. "The fuck's so funny?
Aaron shook his head, and smiled at the man. "Oh, you, of course. You think you're in charge here. That's... almost adorable, really." He patted the man's cheek and laughed again when the man whipped his head around, trying to bite him. "I've heard this before, though. You'd better change it up or I might get bored." He eyed the lit cigarette thoughtfully. "Who knows what I might do then."
"You better let me go," the man said. "You better let me go right now, or..."
Aaron let a moment of silence go by, then inquired, "Or what?" When the man didn't answer, he nodded. "I thought so. I'll be perfectly honest with you. Your life depends on how much you entertain me."
The man stared at him for a moment, then said, in flat tones, "What."
"Was I unclear?" Aaron asked, as politely as he could manage. "I am on vacation with my family and I am unspeakably bored. Your job is to amuse me. If you don't, I'll kill you." He shrugged. "If you do, I'll let you go. It's really quite that simple."
Not that he actually intended to let the man go. That would be stupid, and Aaron was not at all stupid. But it was fun, to watch them hope.
"Entertain you," the man said, and began to laugh, a little hysterically. "You want me to entertain you? Fuck you, you son of a bitch, I don't have to do shit. I'm not going to dance to your fucking—" He cut himself off with a scream.
Aaron lifted the cigarette and admired the cherry red burn on the man's neck. "Well, actually," he said, nearly apologetic, "you do. Or more accurately, you will." He pressed the cigarette to the man's neck again, held it there while he spoke above his screams. "I'm very creative, you'll find; the more so the more bored I am. And I am very, very—" he twisted the cigarette—"bored."
The man broke down into sobs, so Aaron stubbed the cigarette out in his shoulder and dropped it onto the table, then folded his arms over the top of the chair. "So," he said. "That's the first step. How do you feel?"
"Fuck you," the man spat, between sobs.
Aaron shrugged. "All right," he said, and leaned down to pick up his next little toy.
It was going to be a long night.
He planned to enjoy every minute.
