String Theory fanfiction, NC-17
Title: Rapture
Author: Veni aka Spocktopus
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,095
Fandom: String Theory (comic by Beckey)
Warnings: Blood, unstable narrator, frottage, dubcon/noncon
Pairing: Phineas/Schtein
Summary: In which Phineas acts the shark, the infirmary is his ocean, and the prey is our dearly drugged doctor
Disclaimer: Not mine, wish it was
Note: This is the first String Theory fic I have ever seen (feel free to link me if I’m wrong, I’d love to see something else). To be the first slash writer in a fandom is very exciting for me, and I can only hope I did not disappoint. Criticism welcome, and apologies to the creator; I can only hope I did your characters justice.
Rapture
People might say that he was a violent, hateful psychopath, but ask Phineas and he would tell you that, really, he loved people. He loved their presence, their intense emotions-everything that came together to form that enigma, the individual, was, to him, intensely fascinating.
But most of all, he loved their taste.
Working in a prison hospital let him explore his love of the common man in ways he could have only dreamed of before. The doctors, bless them, didn’t care what he did, so long as he didn’t get too excessive and picked up afterwards, and it was just so easy now-God, so easy to touch and watch and taste; the ill and injured offered laughable resistance. And in his prison world, he could feed off of the excessive emotions of those around him, more so in the infirmary; fear was his bread, pain his wine, and here he was always well-fed.
Naturally, when the doctor-cum-accidental murderer arrived, Phineas was the first to hear about it. He was fascinated by the man, this Herville Schtein, that so angered the other inmates-even the warden, that cold, unfeeling bitch, was absolutely infuriated by the mad doctor. Phineas needed to meet him, obsessed over the idea with a concise madness that built and bubbled each day until, finally, gloriously, the sun broke forth and Schtein was gifted to him, a drugged and pliable package dropped off by the prison guards themselves.
When he saw Schtein carted in, he could barely contain himself. He hovered in the shadows as the orderlies set him up, checking vitals and-unfortunately-cleaning wounds. Consensus: wounded, mentally ill but stable for the moment. Phineas saw it, saw the needle that would send Schtein into the inky calm, saw it pierce the skin and then-yes, they were done, backs turned and doors closed and Schtein was left for the sharks. With a toothy grin, Phineas shimmered forward, eagerness on his face at the possibilities-so much medicine to calm him, so much blood had come off the man, he could be an absolute wreck-
He shut the curtain and pulled off the thin hospital blanket with a flourish.
He was not disappointed.
Schtein’s body was absolutely broken, in every sense of the word; he was slick with sweat, a sheen of it coating him and pooling in the hollow of his throat. Shallow breathing-and here Phineas couldn’t help himself, he had to rest his head above it, the beating heart; rapid and frantic, mad for its fix. Rows and rows of thin cuts speckled the pallid flesh; self-inflicted, in Phineas’ opinion, and he really had an eye for these things. He made short work of the doctor’s shirt, hungry for more. Seeing the naked flesh, he sucked in an involuntary hiss.
The bruising.
Good lord.
It was captivating.
Fresh, purpling, blotching the sticky skin in the most delightful way. Giddily, Phineas pressed once, small and fierce on the thin wrist.
Schtein’s quiet moan was a surprise, but not unwelcome.
Encouraged, Phineas pushed again-hard. A pained groan, and he was hooked. He quickly lifted up Schtein’s shirt (too easy, thanks to the ill-fitting prison uniforms) and raked his eyes over the battered body, determined to find the biggest, darkest bruise and push it in until the flesh cracked beneath him. He wanted to feel the heat of live blood, he needed it, had been kept in this desert too long to be denied this, his life-source, any more-and yes! There! At the top of the hip and curving down past the ragged pants, large and purple as a plum, but still too hidden, shying away from the world. A yank of the pants and it was finally exposed, this precious thing, and Phineas could not stop the giddy laugh, high and lunatic, from escaping his throat.
It covered most of the inner thigh; the very sight of it proved too much for Phineas. He slid onto the small hospital bed and straddled the drugged doctor, bracing one hand on the metal frame as his thin fingers found the purpled flesh. Here he paused, always the showman even if it was for no one’s benefit but his own, and then the moment-a solid push of his thumb, with enough nail to split the skin. Cue the doctor!
He heard the ragged breath sucked in, and Schtein moaned, low and deep. The pain in it was unmistakable.
It was here that something snapped. As that moan wracked Schtein’s gasping chest, what was left of Phineas’ self-control fizzled out, and he found himself desperately, achingly hard. He let himself fall with a quiet “Oompf!”, landing on the pliant doctor and quickly pulling off his shirt. His pants soon joined Schtein’s on the ground, and then-rapture. His erection bobbed free, wet with precum and keening for contact.
Phineas grabbed Schtein at the waist, curling his hands into the bruised flesh and rutting like an animal, like a man possessed. There was no finesse, no art to his method and frankly, he did not care. Eyes shut, and he could feel Schtein’s cock stir, hardening against him, and so in his infinite kindness he gripped it, tight and possessive, jerking it erratically as he ground himself against Schtein’s thigh.
The silence of the infirmary was defining, pushing into Phineas like a weight. He let out a choked sob, burying his face against Schtein’s neck, suckinglickingbiting until-perfection! He came with the taste of copper in his mouth and the beating of the terrible heart in his ears.
He lay boneless, collapsed on the doctor. Schtein’s cock, still fisted in Phineas’ bony hand, spurted a moment later, their semen mingling on their skin. Phineas felt it and knew, then, that they were bound, forever. He knew this and it made him-not happy, he had never been happy-but content. Satisfied, and even more fascinated by Schtein than he was before. He had not felt that bliss, that electric joy, in years. Something about Schtein was special.
I’ve had a taste of you, he thought, as he wiped away their covenant, hid it from the scavengers lurking in this hellhole. He quietly re-clothed them both, making Schtein as presentable as he had been before. Satisfied, he opened the curtain and took a seat next to the bed, watching Schtein sleep. He imagined kissing Schtein’s neck and ripping out the throat, and he smiled, pleased.
Hours later, the doctor awoke. Upon seeing Phineas, he vomited.
Phineas grinned. The blood stained his teeth.
END
Please comment, I need the attention.
Author: Veni aka Spocktopus
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1,095
Fandom: String Theory (comic by Beckey)
Warnings: Blood, unstable narrator, frottage, dubcon/noncon
Pairing: Phineas/Schtein
Summary: In which Phineas acts the shark, the infirmary is his ocean, and the prey is our dearly drugged doctor
Disclaimer: Not mine, wish it was
Note: This is the first String Theory fic I have ever seen (feel free to link me if I’m wrong, I’d love to see something else). To be the first slash writer in a fandom is very exciting for me, and I can only hope I did not disappoint. Criticism welcome, and apologies to the creator; I can only hope I did your characters justice.
Rapture
People might say that he was a violent, hateful psychopath, but ask Phineas and he would tell you that, really, he loved people. He loved their presence, their intense emotions-everything that came together to form that enigma, the individual, was, to him, intensely fascinating.
But most of all, he loved their taste.
Working in a prison hospital let him explore his love of the common man in ways he could have only dreamed of before. The doctors, bless them, didn’t care what he did, so long as he didn’t get too excessive and picked up afterwards, and it was just so easy now-God, so easy to touch and watch and taste; the ill and injured offered laughable resistance. And in his prison world, he could feed off of the excessive emotions of those around him, more so in the infirmary; fear was his bread, pain his wine, and here he was always well-fed.
Naturally, when the doctor-cum-accidental murderer arrived, Phineas was the first to hear about it. He was fascinated by the man, this Herville Schtein, that so angered the other inmates-even the warden, that cold, unfeeling bitch, was absolutely infuriated by the mad doctor. Phineas needed to meet him, obsessed over the idea with a concise madness that built and bubbled each day until, finally, gloriously, the sun broke forth and Schtein was gifted to him, a drugged and pliable package dropped off by the prison guards themselves.
When he saw Schtein carted in, he could barely contain himself. He hovered in the shadows as the orderlies set him up, checking vitals and-unfortunately-cleaning wounds. Consensus: wounded, mentally ill but stable for the moment. Phineas saw it, saw the needle that would send Schtein into the inky calm, saw it pierce the skin and then-yes, they were done, backs turned and doors closed and Schtein was left for the sharks. With a toothy grin, Phineas shimmered forward, eagerness on his face at the possibilities-so much medicine to calm him, so much blood had come off the man, he could be an absolute wreck-
He shut the curtain and pulled off the thin hospital blanket with a flourish.
He was not disappointed.
Schtein’s body was absolutely broken, in every sense of the word; he was slick with sweat, a sheen of it coating him and pooling in the hollow of his throat. Shallow breathing-and here Phineas couldn’t help himself, he had to rest his head above it, the beating heart; rapid and frantic, mad for its fix. Rows and rows of thin cuts speckled the pallid flesh; self-inflicted, in Phineas’ opinion, and he really had an eye for these things. He made short work of the doctor’s shirt, hungry for more. Seeing the naked flesh, he sucked in an involuntary hiss.
The bruising.
Good lord.
It was captivating.
Fresh, purpling, blotching the sticky skin in the most delightful way. Giddily, Phineas pressed once, small and fierce on the thin wrist.
Schtein’s quiet moan was a surprise, but not unwelcome.
Encouraged, Phineas pushed again-hard. A pained groan, and he was hooked. He quickly lifted up Schtein’s shirt (too easy, thanks to the ill-fitting prison uniforms) and raked his eyes over the battered body, determined to find the biggest, darkest bruise and push it in until the flesh cracked beneath him. He wanted to feel the heat of live blood, he needed it, had been kept in this desert too long to be denied this, his life-source, any more-and yes! There! At the top of the hip and curving down past the ragged pants, large and purple as a plum, but still too hidden, shying away from the world. A yank of the pants and it was finally exposed, this precious thing, and Phineas could not stop the giddy laugh, high and lunatic, from escaping his throat.
It covered most of the inner thigh; the very sight of it proved too much for Phineas. He slid onto the small hospital bed and straddled the drugged doctor, bracing one hand on the metal frame as his thin fingers found the purpled flesh. Here he paused, always the showman even if it was for no one’s benefit but his own, and then the moment-a solid push of his thumb, with enough nail to split the skin. Cue the doctor!
He heard the ragged breath sucked in, and Schtein moaned, low and deep. The pain in it was unmistakable.
It was here that something snapped. As that moan wracked Schtein’s gasping chest, what was left of Phineas’ self-control fizzled out, and he found himself desperately, achingly hard. He let himself fall with a quiet “Oompf!”, landing on the pliant doctor and quickly pulling off his shirt. His pants soon joined Schtein’s on the ground, and then-rapture. His erection bobbed free, wet with precum and keening for contact.
Phineas grabbed Schtein at the waist, curling his hands into the bruised flesh and rutting like an animal, like a man possessed. There was no finesse, no art to his method and frankly, he did not care. Eyes shut, and he could feel Schtein’s cock stir, hardening against him, and so in his infinite kindness he gripped it, tight and possessive, jerking it erratically as he ground himself against Schtein’s thigh.
The silence of the infirmary was defining, pushing into Phineas like a weight. He let out a choked sob, burying his face against Schtein’s neck, suckinglickingbiting until-perfection! He came with the taste of copper in his mouth and the beating of the terrible heart in his ears.
He lay boneless, collapsed on the doctor. Schtein’s cock, still fisted in Phineas’ bony hand, spurted a moment later, their semen mingling on their skin. Phineas felt it and knew, then, that they were bound, forever. He knew this and it made him-not happy, he had never been happy-but content. Satisfied, and even more fascinated by Schtein than he was before. He had not felt that bliss, that electric joy, in years. Something about Schtein was special.
I’ve had a taste of you, he thought, as he wiped away their covenant, hid it from the scavengers lurking in this hellhole. He quietly re-clothed them both, making Schtein as presentable as he had been before. Satisfied, he opened the curtain and took a seat next to the bed, watching Schtein sleep. He imagined kissing Schtein’s neck and ripping out the throat, and he smiled, pleased.
Hours later, the doctor awoke. Upon seeing Phineas, he vomited.
Phineas grinned. The blood stained his teeth.
END
Please comment, I need the attention.