Ficlet: Special
Title: Special
Style: Prose
Genre: Revenge
Words: 580
Rating: R
Length: Ficlet
Prompt: Mercer/Norrington
Pairings: Mercer/Norrington
Warnings: Explicit Non-consensual Sexuality, Violence, Crude Language
Authoress: cassiopaya
Characters: Mercer and Norrington
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Dedication: life_of_amesu (This is what happens when I ask for Mercer/Will.)
Notes: Mercer feels the need to impress upon Norrington just how “special” he really is. It’s not pleasant.
Part: 1
***
Mercer tore out of the darkness, as if he were detaching himself from it, with a face full of fury and bodily launched Norrington through the door into his own fort quarters. So quick was James thrust forward that he had not the chance to utter a sound and as he splayed against the flagstone floor and had the wind knocked from his lungs. Gasping for air, he tried to pick himself up off the floor. Behind him, Mercer was locking the door and bracing the handle with a chair. James struggled to release his pistol from his belt and Mercer delivered a swift kick to his arse. The blow only smarted and Norrington resolved to place some distance between them. Mercer kept kicking him as he crawled along the flagstone. When he reached the old carpet before the small hearth James was plucked up by his greatcoat and flipped over. Suddenly Mercer was all upon him, knees jamming into shoulders, one hand clenched around his jaw and the other twisting itself into Norrington’s hair.
“Do you think you are special?” Mercer asked him in a strained whisper through clenched teeth. It was more frightening than if the man had screamed in his face with spittle flying. James could not respond with Mercer’s hand bearing down on his mouth. Norrington kicked his legs and bucked against his attacker, his hands scrabbling against the man’s back without purchase. Mercer took his hand away from the Admiral’s mouth and viciously backhanded him. James’ lip was split and he took a deep gasping breath as the man leaned forward and removed most of the weight from his diaphragm. He feared Mercer would put his eyes out the way he poked his finger so close. The heinously soft rage continued to puff over him with each breath Mercer took, “Do you think that because Lord Beckett sticks his thick prick up your lily arse that makes you special? Did you think you were the first? The only one? Is he your first and your only? That what makes you special, does it? No. You are nothing to him. Just one more pretty thing to be toyed with until you break. No, not special, not special at all. Rubbish is what you are, you-”
Snick, click, BOOM. The trigger was squeezed, the hammer flashed down, and the bullet exploded forth. James had managed to reach the pistol from his belt when Mercer had risen over him. Now the man was silent and white, frozen above Norrington. No blood bubbled up his throat and passed his lips. James panted as Mercer left go of his head and, looking down at himself, moved his greatcoat aside to examine his wound. Both men saw that Norrington had only grazed him. Mercer turned his head to look James dead in the eyes in that predatory way of his and tutted.
Norrington let the pistol clatter onto the floor and tried to dislodge Mercer by forcibly sitting up. James was suddenly dazed and fell back against the floor as Mercer cracked his skull into his. The man clamped both of his hands around Norrington’s long neck and squeezed in all the right places through his cravat. Black spots were swimming betwixt himself and Mercer as James kept trying to punch and worry at the light wound in the man’s side. There was such a look of fiendish delight on Mercer’s face as Norrington slipped into unconsciousness with a full cock-stand.
Style: Prose
Genre: Revenge
Words: 580
Rating: R
Length: Ficlet
Prompt: Mercer/Norrington
Pairings: Mercer/Norrington
Warnings: Explicit Non-consensual Sexuality, Violence, Crude Language
Authoress: cassiopaya
Characters: Mercer and Norrington
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Dedication: life_of_amesu (This is what happens when I ask for Mercer/Will.)
Notes: Mercer feels the need to impress upon Norrington just how “special” he really is. It’s not pleasant.
Part: 1
***
Mercer tore out of the darkness, as if he were detaching himself from it, with a face full of fury and bodily launched Norrington through the door into his own fort quarters. So quick was James thrust forward that he had not the chance to utter a sound and as he splayed against the flagstone floor and had the wind knocked from his lungs. Gasping for air, he tried to pick himself up off the floor. Behind him, Mercer was locking the door and bracing the handle with a chair. James struggled to release his pistol from his belt and Mercer delivered a swift kick to his arse. The blow only smarted and Norrington resolved to place some distance between them. Mercer kept kicking him as he crawled along the flagstone. When he reached the old carpet before the small hearth James was plucked up by his greatcoat and flipped over. Suddenly Mercer was all upon him, knees jamming into shoulders, one hand clenched around his jaw and the other twisting itself into Norrington’s hair.
“Do you think you are special?” Mercer asked him in a strained whisper through clenched teeth. It was more frightening than if the man had screamed in his face with spittle flying. James could not respond with Mercer’s hand bearing down on his mouth. Norrington kicked his legs and bucked against his attacker, his hands scrabbling against the man’s back without purchase. Mercer took his hand away from the Admiral’s mouth and viciously backhanded him. James’ lip was split and he took a deep gasping breath as the man leaned forward and removed most of the weight from his diaphragm. He feared Mercer would put his eyes out the way he poked his finger so close. The heinously soft rage continued to puff over him with each breath Mercer took, “Do you think that because Lord Beckett sticks his thick prick up your lily arse that makes you special? Did you think you were the first? The only one? Is he your first and your only? That what makes you special, does it? No. You are nothing to him. Just one more pretty thing to be toyed with until you break. No, not special, not special at all. Rubbish is what you are, you-”
Snick, click, BOOM. The trigger was squeezed, the hammer flashed down, and the bullet exploded forth. James had managed to reach the pistol from his belt when Mercer had risen over him. Now the man was silent and white, frozen above Norrington. No blood bubbled up his throat and passed his lips. James panted as Mercer left go of his head and, looking down at himself, moved his greatcoat aside to examine his wound. Both men saw that Norrington had only grazed him. Mercer turned his head to look James dead in the eyes in that predatory way of his and tutted.
Norrington let the pistol clatter onto the floor and tried to dislodge Mercer by forcibly sitting up. James was suddenly dazed and fell back against the floor as Mercer cracked his skull into his. The man clamped both of his hands around Norrington’s long neck and squeezed in all the right places through his cravat. Black spots were swimming betwixt himself and Mercer as James kept trying to punch and worry at the light wound in the man’s side. There was such a look of fiendish delight on Mercer’s face as Norrington slipped into unconsciousness with a full cock-stand.