Fic : Demons Part 12
Title: When Demons Come a Calling - Part 12
Author: Kimmi
Fandom: CSI
Pairing: Sara/Catherine
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I only wished I owned Sara and Catherine. Unfortunately CBS does, I’m just borrowing them.
Summary: When Sara’s past comes back to haunt her it arrives with a vengeance.
Spoilers: Up to Nesting Dolls, after that it takes a sharp left turn.
Authors Notes: This is dark, full of angst and deals with themes of rape and torture, although I don’t think I got too graphic. I also do not have a beta so there will be errors.
Extra warning : A little more torture type stuff.
Chapters | 1 | 2-3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7-8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 |
Part 12
Once she might have sought the light but now she craved oblivion. She longed for darkness to hide herself away from the torment of her body and the insistence of the voice stalking her mind.
“This was her pain, she made me give it to you. She wanted you to feel this. She wants you to suffer.”
She was made of agony, dull and twisting, sharp and cutting.
“Tell me about Catherine. Tell me what you feel when you argue with her.”
Stabbing, burning, breaking, bright blinding flashes of misery.
“Tell me about the first time your father broke one of your bones, your first trip to the hospital.”
Hot needles shoved under fingernails, spikes driven into the tender flesh of her thighs, blows to bruised ribs.
“Tell me how you felt while you watched your mother kill him.”
“Tell me tell me tell me tell me…”
She didn’t want to answer, didn’t want to remember but the voice was screaming in her head, the pain was too much. She just wanted it to stop.
“No one cares about you, only me. No one will take care of you, only me. They make me hurt you, she makes me hurt you. No one can stop the pain, only me. No one can make you whole, only me.”
“Only me only me only me only me…”
Michael watched her mouth open in one last silent scream. Her voice had given out hours ago and he found he missed the sweet melody of her cries. He had been as surprised and frustrated as he was proud of her will. He hadn’t thought anyone could hold out that long in the face of mind withering agony. She had such inner strength, such hard steel at her very core and he had broken and softened it, made it pliant. Now he would reshape and sculpt her into perfection.
Stepping back he admired his work. Purple, black, green and yellow adorned nearly every inch of her skin. The only thing he had left untouched was her face. He just couldn’t bring himself to mar that angelic visage. Still, it was breathtaking to see, a true work of art. He was a painter and she was his canvas. This was what his father had aspired to be, but he was a rank amateur next to the master his son had become.
He had finally reached the pinnacle of domination over another human being. He knew he owed it all to his mahogany-eyed goddess. The first time he had seen her he knew that she was special, he just hadn’t realized how much. The joy he had felt the first time he saw the light dim in a woman’s eyes as he spilled himself inside her paled in comparison to the bliss he experienced as Sara finally bent to his will. But he knew that this feeling would be nothing more than a shadow of the ecstasy that would wash over him when he watched his love take Catherine Willows’ body and then her life.
He gently removed the bindings from Sara’s wrists and ankles before scooping her into his arms. Having her pressed so intimately against his chest as he cradled her like an infant was too much of a temptation though and he had to quickly deposit her on the cot. He still wanted her, still dreamed of her and still longed for her. The one that got away.
For twelve long years he had thought about her nearly every waking moment and her image had haunted his slumber. At first he thought it was because she had not only escaped but had facilitated his arrest. It wasn’t until that night a little over three years ago when he received his divine vision that he was made to understand the truth.
The bedroom was large and comfortably decorated. The king sized bed that dominated the space was covered in a rich burgundy coverlet that contrasted nicely with the pale skin of his prey. He stood in the doorway for long moments, flower in hand, watching the woman as she slept.
Something to his left attracted his attention and he realized he wasn’t alone, but instead of being surprised it felt so right. The woman standing beside him was familiar and strange at the same time. He had seen her, known her before, but she was different from the shy withdrawn girl he had watched for so long. Now she was a vision in head to toe body hugging black leather, a stunning and deadly predator. Her dark hair flowed around her head, blown in a wind he couldn’t feel and the ivory skin of her face glowed in the moonlight streaming through the thin curtains, giving her an ethereal quality.
She turned her fathomless chocolate colored eyes on him and caught his gaze, holding it fearlessly. As she nodded her head in the direction of the bed he knew she was silently asking him permission to be first, to take the first taste of the woman’s fear. He nodded and she moved like lightning across the room. He glowed in paternal pride as he watched the ferocity with which she attacked. She was savage, feral, a vicious angel, and so absolutely beautiful as she took what she desired that he couldn’t help but stand there in awe of her. She was perfection made manifest and she was his.
He had woken in a cold sweat with a new understanding and a new mission. One day he would make that dream a reality. Now here he was, on the eve of seeing it come true. It was too bad Sara would be too sore to wear the outfit he had bought for her; tight leather over bruises might make it a bit difficult to move and he wanted her to enjoy her first kill. Besides, he would see her in it soon enough.
Exhaustion stole over him like a dense fog rolling in off the ocean. The stimulants he had used to keep them both awake were wearing off and he still had things to do. He would let her rest while he attended to the various cuts and punctures on her body. It wouldn’t do for them to get infected and scar. He wanted her as unblemished as possible.
He caressed her soft cheek with the back of his hand once before returning to his toolbox and retrieving the meager medical supplies he had brought with him. After cutting off Sara’s tattered shirt and pants Michael decided to leave her underwear intact. There was only so much temptation a man could endure before giving in after all. He realized as he cleaned her injuries that rubbing-alcohol and Neosporin were only stop-gap measures, he would have to break into a pharmacy and get her some real antibiotics. That was a detail he should have thought of earlier.
Details, they weren’t something he was particularly good at. Sara though, was great with them, she had to be to do her job. Soon he would be able to leave all the minutiae up to her. She would be the one person on this earth he could trust, because he had created her to be that way. As he cleaned his mate’s wounds he knew that he was no longer alone.
He redressed her in clothes he had taken from the home of the third woman he had used to get Sara’s attention because they were the same size. The exhausted brunette did not stir once as he lifted and manipulated her body. He was probably going to have to nearly double the drugs he had been using just to wake her up. Even though he had succeeded in breaking her he still had to train her. He didn’t think it would be that hard though, she already the foundations. He just needed to build on them.
TBC
*does a little happy dance* I finally figured out how to do italics :)
Author: Kimmi
Fandom: CSI
Pairing: Sara/Catherine
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I only wished I owned Sara and Catherine. Unfortunately CBS does, I’m just borrowing them.
Summary: When Sara’s past comes back to haunt her it arrives with a vengeance.
Spoilers: Up to Nesting Dolls, after that it takes a sharp left turn.
Authors Notes: This is dark, full of angst and deals with themes of rape and torture, although I don’t think I got too graphic. I also do not have a beta so there will be errors.
Extra warning : A little more torture type stuff.
Chapters | 1 | 2-3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7-8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 |
Part 12
Once she might have sought the light but now she craved oblivion. She longed for darkness to hide herself away from the torment of her body and the insistence of the voice stalking her mind.
“This was her pain, she made me give it to you. She wanted you to feel this. She wants you to suffer.”
She was made of agony, dull and twisting, sharp and cutting.
“Tell me about Catherine. Tell me what you feel when you argue with her.”
Stabbing, burning, breaking, bright blinding flashes of misery.
“Tell me about the first time your father broke one of your bones, your first trip to the hospital.”
Hot needles shoved under fingernails, spikes driven into the tender flesh of her thighs, blows to bruised ribs.
“Tell me how you felt while you watched your mother kill him.”
“Tell me tell me tell me tell me…”
She didn’t want to answer, didn’t want to remember but the voice was screaming in her head, the pain was too much. She just wanted it to stop.
“No one cares about you, only me. No one will take care of you, only me. They make me hurt you, she makes me hurt you. No one can stop the pain, only me. No one can make you whole, only me.”
“Only me only me only me only me…”
Michael watched her mouth open in one last silent scream. Her voice had given out hours ago and he found he missed the sweet melody of her cries. He had been as surprised and frustrated as he was proud of her will. He hadn’t thought anyone could hold out that long in the face of mind withering agony. She had such inner strength, such hard steel at her very core and he had broken and softened it, made it pliant. Now he would reshape and sculpt her into perfection.
Stepping back he admired his work. Purple, black, green and yellow adorned nearly every inch of her skin. The only thing he had left untouched was her face. He just couldn’t bring himself to mar that angelic visage. Still, it was breathtaking to see, a true work of art. He was a painter and she was his canvas. This was what his father had aspired to be, but he was a rank amateur next to the master his son had become.
He had finally reached the pinnacle of domination over another human being. He knew he owed it all to his mahogany-eyed goddess. The first time he had seen her he knew that she was special, he just hadn’t realized how much. The joy he had felt the first time he saw the light dim in a woman’s eyes as he spilled himself inside her paled in comparison to the bliss he experienced as Sara finally bent to his will. But he knew that this feeling would be nothing more than a shadow of the ecstasy that would wash over him when he watched his love take Catherine Willows’ body and then her life.
He gently removed the bindings from Sara’s wrists and ankles before scooping her into his arms. Having her pressed so intimately against his chest as he cradled her like an infant was too much of a temptation though and he had to quickly deposit her on the cot. He still wanted her, still dreamed of her and still longed for her. The one that got away.
For twelve long years he had thought about her nearly every waking moment and her image had haunted his slumber. At first he thought it was because she had not only escaped but had facilitated his arrest. It wasn’t until that night a little over three years ago when he received his divine vision that he was made to understand the truth.
The bedroom was large and comfortably decorated. The king sized bed that dominated the space was covered in a rich burgundy coverlet that contrasted nicely with the pale skin of his prey. He stood in the doorway for long moments, flower in hand, watching the woman as she slept.
Something to his left attracted his attention and he realized he wasn’t alone, but instead of being surprised it felt so right. The woman standing beside him was familiar and strange at the same time. He had seen her, known her before, but she was different from the shy withdrawn girl he had watched for so long. Now she was a vision in head to toe body hugging black leather, a stunning and deadly predator. Her dark hair flowed around her head, blown in a wind he couldn’t feel and the ivory skin of her face glowed in the moonlight streaming through the thin curtains, giving her an ethereal quality.
She turned her fathomless chocolate colored eyes on him and caught his gaze, holding it fearlessly. As she nodded her head in the direction of the bed he knew she was silently asking him permission to be first, to take the first taste of the woman’s fear. He nodded and she moved like lightning across the room. He glowed in paternal pride as he watched the ferocity with which she attacked. She was savage, feral, a vicious angel, and so absolutely beautiful as she took what she desired that he couldn’t help but stand there in awe of her. She was perfection made manifest and she was his.
He had woken in a cold sweat with a new understanding and a new mission. One day he would make that dream a reality. Now here he was, on the eve of seeing it come true. It was too bad Sara would be too sore to wear the outfit he had bought for her; tight leather over bruises might make it a bit difficult to move and he wanted her to enjoy her first kill. Besides, he would see her in it soon enough.
Exhaustion stole over him like a dense fog rolling in off the ocean. The stimulants he had used to keep them both awake were wearing off and he still had things to do. He would let her rest while he attended to the various cuts and punctures on her body. It wouldn’t do for them to get infected and scar. He wanted her as unblemished as possible.
He caressed her soft cheek with the back of his hand once before returning to his toolbox and retrieving the meager medical supplies he had brought with him. After cutting off Sara’s tattered shirt and pants Michael decided to leave her underwear intact. There was only so much temptation a man could endure before giving in after all. He realized as he cleaned her injuries that rubbing-alcohol and Neosporin were only stop-gap measures, he would have to break into a pharmacy and get her some real antibiotics. That was a detail he should have thought of earlier.
Details, they weren’t something he was particularly good at. Sara though, was great with them, she had to be to do her job. Soon he would be able to leave all the minutiae up to her. She would be the one person on this earth he could trust, because he had created her to be that way. As he cleaned his mate’s wounds he knew that he was no longer alone.
He redressed her in clothes he had taken from the home of the third woman he had used to get Sara’s attention because they were the same size. The exhausted brunette did not stir once as he lifted and manipulated her body. He was probably going to have to nearly double the drugs he had been using just to wake her up. Even though he had succeeded in breaking her he still had to train her. He didn’t think it would be that hard though, she already the foundations. He just needed to build on them.
TBC
*does a little happy dance* I finally figured out how to do italics :)