Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Summoner (Victor/Raidou)
Title: Standard Procedure
Author: Ariane
Rating: R/NC-17 for badtouch
Warnings: medical use of electricity, needles, drugs, lack of consent
Word count: ~1500
Summary: He doesn't trust Victor, exactly, but he's never done anything that didn't fix him up in the end.
A/N: I... am not sure this will appeal to anyone without a pretty strong medical kink, but for all that I am not a doctor I had great fun with it. Such an indulgent claim. *rolls*
Lying on the table, stripped down and cold, Raidou aches. His cuts throb, on his shoulder and leg, and he thinks Victor's scoff during the first once-over means he broke the rib, instead of just bruising it. He wonders how much blood Victor will let him lose, or if he should've just said no, he doesn't want the experimental treatment.
It hurts even when Nakisawame or Oukuninushi do the job, but their magic is more of an all-over sore feeling than the sharpness of Victor's needles and scalpels and...?
"Electrodes," Victor supplies, sticking down a wire onto the muscle of his shoulder. There's a few of them already there, over the bone. "I thought we'd try cataphoresis today."
Raidou doesn't know what that means, and he doesn't trust Victor, exactly, but he's never done anything that didn't fix him up in the end. Raidou lets his hand get picked up next, joints bent and manipulated until there are wires on each of his knuckles and his wrist bone. It makes that hand feel heavy and stiff, when it shouldn't -- there's a needle set in his vein, in the other arm, but it's only dripping saline.
"A little warm," Victor warns, and the wired hand is placed in a water bath. Raidou eyes the machine those wires are connected to -- one of Victor's smaller electric things that he's never seen used before, with dials and gauges and a lot that looks really bad to be in water around.
Victor is over at the wall, now, by that generator. "This may be uncomfortable," he says, and Raidou wonders if Victor's expression means he won't be leaving here with that arm.
And he throws a switch that turns on the current, and -- oh.
It doesn't hurt, exactly, but it's pins and needles and his muscles clenching when he doesn't want them to -- he can't keep still, and Victor is at his side again, gloved hands lifting his and watching it move, motions getting weaker the longer it goes on --
When the current runs out, he breathes deeply. It aches now that it's over, and his hand feels weird, spasming once as Victor takes a cloth and dries off the water, stretches his arm out on the table.
Raidou feels wetness, still, and gestures as well as he can when he realizes it's his shoulder, still bleeding, maybe a little more than before. Victor just rolls a tray over, filled with the usual: needles and vials of liquid, the sterilized steel of his instruments.
He looks up when he tries to move his arm, and can't, and his first instinct is to panic but Victor just nods and says, "Good, good," filling and tapping a syringe.
"Just saline," Victor says, and Raidou can look and see the hypodermic sinking into his shoulder, but only feels the pressure from Victor's fingers steadying it, nothing for the actual needle. It must be deep, because when Victor takes it out, it bleeds. Victor swabs alcohol on him, then peroxide, and that doesn't hurt, either, not even a sting.
"Nothing?" Raidou shakes his head, and Victor looks pleased. Obviously it was meant to make him numb.
Maybe this experiment isn't so bad. Usually he only gets drugs like that when he's a lot worse off than this, and even then it's for his mind more than the pain. He responds well to chloroform, Victor tells him.
The stitches go easy when all he feels is the threads pulling tight. There's ten of them, in that cut -- Victor always counts, but he's not usually aware enough to follow. Victor's hands linger, but that's okay, idly rubbing his arm where it feels heavy and cold.
Raidou lifts his head, hard as it is to do without the muscles of that shoulder. His rib is purpled and still aching. Victor nods at him and turns, selecting another syringe.
"I'd give you the electricity again, but this close to your heart, it would kill you," Victor tells him. Raidou would ask why he sounds like he knows that for a fact, but settles for cringing, when the needle slips in, and then Victor's fingers push near it, trying different pressures.
"There's nothing I can do for this," Victor says, depressing the plunger, "but you're lucky you only bruised the bone." Raidou lets his breath out as finally, the drug provides some relief.
"One more on the leg, you said?" Raidou nods.
Victor taps him between the thighs to ease them apart. He tenses, and isn't sure why. Victor's touched -- examined -- him all over before, and the cut under his thigh is a bad one. His leg is lifted and electrodes are pressed on, just like before, on his hipbone and down his leg to the knee. "I'll be trying a higher current. You don't mind, do you?" Victor says, and Raidou doesn't bother saying yes.
Expecting the current, knowing what it feels like, does no good, he realizes. It is more intense, harder to control, and where it's concentrated -- he can't help it, he's getting hard.
This shouldn't happen, it's bad that it does -- except Gouto won't sit on his lap on the streetcar anymore because some days even the train can get him hard. He's got no chance against this so close, muscles contracting and releasing, the heat the electricity's giving off, even when it's weird. But Victor's a doctor, right? He'll know all that.
He flexes experimentally when the current stops and the electrodes are pulled off entirely, and he's surprised -- he can actually feel things. Victor would want to know his experiment didn't work this time. He should tell him, but he just closes his eyes at the prick of the hypodermic ready to stitch him up. At least the pain will take care of this... problem.
It does, a little. Victor lifts his leg roughly, and it isn't personal at all, and it hurts, piercing then the burning friction of the thread, Victor's concentration on making the knots close and secure, squinting and not six inches away from the wound.
It takes at least a dozen stitches. Victor counts out loud again, but he can't concentrate. When it's done, it's hard to breathe but at least he isn't embarrassing himself too much.
Victor sets his leg down. Raidou lets it fall -- it is a little heavy, even if it isn't numb like the arm was. Still is, maybe. He feels light pressure, and opens his eyes to see Victor's hands there, trying it for himself. "Ah, it's only temporary. Good."
Raidou tries to sit up -- those were his only injuries, and all Victor can do now is give him a pill to sleep it off, and he'd rather do that in bed at home where he can take care of himself.
Victor puts one hand firmly on his collarbone and pushes him back down. Raidou opens his mouth, but Victor pushes two fingers hard on his injured rib before he can say anything -- and while he's distracted, not so much from the pain but from the pressure, Victor gets a hand on his cock, and -- gods.
"That's it," Victor is saying, and this is too weird, too wrong, but it still feels good, and he can't help it, he hardens again at the touch. He can't push Victor away, the IV in one arm and the other still nearly paralyzed. His hips can move, and they do, sort of awkwardly and with effort, from the drugs, but all that does is have him push into Victor's hand, and gods, this is too easy.
It isn't that Victor's hand feels better than his own -- it's just different, between the size of his hands, the texture from the rubber of his gloves, the way he treats this as just another standard procedure, no more or less caring than he ever is, still experimenting with touch, going from heavy pressure to fingers light up his length and one hand cupping his balls -- "Now," he hears, "just relax," and he can't, tensing and spilling over Victor's hand.
Victor's touch disappears just as quickly as it does after he finishes in surgery, stripping off his gloves and dropping them Raidou opens his eyes to see him dampening a cloth in clear liquid, while Raidou's still catching his breath -- "Just water," Victor says. "You've worked up quite a sweat. From the pain," he adds. Raidou closes his eyes and lets him wipe his face. The cool water feels pretty good.
It warms up after a minute, and Victor's hands leave for a moment to make it cold again. But it's different when he comes back, Victor's hand tight on his mouth -- it is doused in liquid, and he can taste -- he tries to raise his hand to say no, no chloroform this time, and doesn't manage it.
Victor's turning his head to the side and his fingers are in Raidou's mouth, still tasting like the rubber of his gloves, holding him open so he can breathe, and one more needle is pressing deep into his neck, and he's asleep before the drug can feel cool in his vein.
Author: Ariane
Rating: R/NC-17 for badtouch
Warnings: medical use of electricity, needles, drugs, lack of consent
Word count: ~1500
Summary: He doesn't trust Victor, exactly, but he's never done anything that didn't fix him up in the end.
A/N: I... am not sure this will appeal to anyone without a pretty strong medical kink, but for all that I am not a doctor I had great fun with it. Such an indulgent claim. *rolls*
Lying on the table, stripped down and cold, Raidou aches. His cuts throb, on his shoulder and leg, and he thinks Victor's scoff during the first once-over means he broke the rib, instead of just bruising it. He wonders how much blood Victor will let him lose, or if he should've just said no, he doesn't want the experimental treatment.
It hurts even when Nakisawame or Oukuninushi do the job, but their magic is more of an all-over sore feeling than the sharpness of Victor's needles and scalpels and...?
"Electrodes," Victor supplies, sticking down a wire onto the muscle of his shoulder. There's a few of them already there, over the bone. "I thought we'd try cataphoresis today."
Raidou doesn't know what that means, and he doesn't trust Victor, exactly, but he's never done anything that didn't fix him up in the end. Raidou lets his hand get picked up next, joints bent and manipulated until there are wires on each of his knuckles and his wrist bone. It makes that hand feel heavy and stiff, when it shouldn't -- there's a needle set in his vein, in the other arm, but it's only dripping saline.
"A little warm," Victor warns, and the wired hand is placed in a water bath. Raidou eyes the machine those wires are connected to -- one of Victor's smaller electric things that he's never seen used before, with dials and gauges and a lot that looks really bad to be in water around.
Victor is over at the wall, now, by that generator. "This may be uncomfortable," he says, and Raidou wonders if Victor's expression means he won't be leaving here with that arm.
And he throws a switch that turns on the current, and -- oh.
It doesn't hurt, exactly, but it's pins and needles and his muscles clenching when he doesn't want them to -- he can't keep still, and Victor is at his side again, gloved hands lifting his and watching it move, motions getting weaker the longer it goes on --
When the current runs out, he breathes deeply. It aches now that it's over, and his hand feels weird, spasming once as Victor takes a cloth and dries off the water, stretches his arm out on the table.
Raidou feels wetness, still, and gestures as well as he can when he realizes it's his shoulder, still bleeding, maybe a little more than before. Victor just rolls a tray over, filled with the usual: needles and vials of liquid, the sterilized steel of his instruments.
He looks up when he tries to move his arm, and can't, and his first instinct is to panic but Victor just nods and says, "Good, good," filling and tapping a syringe.
"Just saline," Victor says, and Raidou can look and see the hypodermic sinking into his shoulder, but only feels the pressure from Victor's fingers steadying it, nothing for the actual needle. It must be deep, because when Victor takes it out, it bleeds. Victor swabs alcohol on him, then peroxide, and that doesn't hurt, either, not even a sting.
"Nothing?" Raidou shakes his head, and Victor looks pleased. Obviously it was meant to make him numb.
Maybe this experiment isn't so bad. Usually he only gets drugs like that when he's a lot worse off than this, and even then it's for his mind more than the pain. He responds well to chloroform, Victor tells him.
The stitches go easy when all he feels is the threads pulling tight. There's ten of them, in that cut -- Victor always counts, but he's not usually aware enough to follow. Victor's hands linger, but that's okay, idly rubbing his arm where it feels heavy and cold.
Raidou lifts his head, hard as it is to do without the muscles of that shoulder. His rib is purpled and still aching. Victor nods at him and turns, selecting another syringe.
"I'd give you the electricity again, but this close to your heart, it would kill you," Victor tells him. Raidou would ask why he sounds like he knows that for a fact, but settles for cringing, when the needle slips in, and then Victor's fingers push near it, trying different pressures.
"There's nothing I can do for this," Victor says, depressing the plunger, "but you're lucky you only bruised the bone." Raidou lets his breath out as finally, the drug provides some relief.
"One more on the leg, you said?" Raidou nods.
Victor taps him between the thighs to ease them apart. He tenses, and isn't sure why. Victor's touched -- examined -- him all over before, and the cut under his thigh is a bad one. His leg is lifted and electrodes are pressed on, just like before, on his hipbone and down his leg to the knee. "I'll be trying a higher current. You don't mind, do you?" Victor says, and Raidou doesn't bother saying yes.
Expecting the current, knowing what it feels like, does no good, he realizes. It is more intense, harder to control, and where it's concentrated -- he can't help it, he's getting hard.
This shouldn't happen, it's bad that it does -- except Gouto won't sit on his lap on the streetcar anymore because some days even the train can get him hard. He's got no chance against this so close, muscles contracting and releasing, the heat the electricity's giving off, even when it's weird. But Victor's a doctor, right? He'll know all that.
He flexes experimentally when the current stops and the electrodes are pulled off entirely, and he's surprised -- he can actually feel things. Victor would want to know his experiment didn't work this time. He should tell him, but he just closes his eyes at the prick of the hypodermic ready to stitch him up. At least the pain will take care of this... problem.
It does, a little. Victor lifts his leg roughly, and it isn't personal at all, and it hurts, piercing then the burning friction of the thread, Victor's concentration on making the knots close and secure, squinting and not six inches away from the wound.
It takes at least a dozen stitches. Victor counts out loud again, but he can't concentrate. When it's done, it's hard to breathe but at least he isn't embarrassing himself too much.
Victor sets his leg down. Raidou lets it fall -- it is a little heavy, even if it isn't numb like the arm was. Still is, maybe. He feels light pressure, and opens his eyes to see Victor's hands there, trying it for himself. "Ah, it's only temporary. Good."
Raidou tries to sit up -- those were his only injuries, and all Victor can do now is give him a pill to sleep it off, and he'd rather do that in bed at home where he can take care of himself.
Victor puts one hand firmly on his collarbone and pushes him back down. Raidou opens his mouth, but Victor pushes two fingers hard on his injured rib before he can say anything -- and while he's distracted, not so much from the pain but from the pressure, Victor gets a hand on his cock, and -- gods.
"That's it," Victor is saying, and this is too weird, too wrong, but it still feels good, and he can't help it, he hardens again at the touch. He can't push Victor away, the IV in one arm and the other still nearly paralyzed. His hips can move, and they do, sort of awkwardly and with effort, from the drugs, but all that does is have him push into Victor's hand, and gods, this is too easy.
It isn't that Victor's hand feels better than his own -- it's just different, between the size of his hands, the texture from the rubber of his gloves, the way he treats this as just another standard procedure, no more or less caring than he ever is, still experimenting with touch, going from heavy pressure to fingers light up his length and one hand cupping his balls -- "Now," he hears, "just relax," and he can't, tensing and spilling over Victor's hand.
Victor's touch disappears just as quickly as it does after he finishes in surgery, stripping off his gloves and dropping them Raidou opens his eyes to see him dampening a cloth in clear liquid, while Raidou's still catching his breath -- "Just water," Victor says. "You've worked up quite a sweat. From the pain," he adds. Raidou closes his eyes and lets him wipe his face. The cool water feels pretty good.
It warms up after a minute, and Victor's hands leave for a moment to make it cold again. But it's different when he comes back, Victor's hand tight on his mouth -- it is doused in liquid, and he can taste -- he tries to raise his hand to say no, no chloroform this time, and doesn't manage it.
Victor's turning his head to the side and his fingers are in Raidou's mouth, still tasting like the rubber of his gloves, holding him open so he can breathe, and one more needle is pressing deep into his neck, and he's asleep before the drug can feel cool in his vein.