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popitdontdropitwrites · 2 years

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"He Likes the Sound of His Own Sadistic Acts" Engineer/Medic (Oneshot)🔞

Summary: The Engineer purposefully winds up at the mercy of the enemy Medic after hearing the rumours of forced amputations, disembowellings and extravagant vivisections from his unfortunate teammates.

And the Medic likes hearing about his aforementioned sins against humankind, maybe a little too much.

Words: ~2700

CW: NSFW/Sexual Content, restraints.

You can also read this fic on ao3 here

The enemy Medic loomed above Dell, a sinister glint in his eyes as he examined the toy from top to bottom with the interest of both a man of science, and a man who intended to make his life a pleasurable hell. He pushed his glasses up, the lenses reflecting the bright lights of the infirmary as he ran his index over the grooves on the tip, curiously exploring the lightweight silicone. He looked to the Engineer, a mocking smirk on his lips as he switched on the tip, which quietly hummed in his gloved hands.

“I was originally planning to make you an unwilling participant in an experiment of mine, but this is just as appealing.” Ludwig crooned, his free hand playing with the thick fuzz on his chest, tiptoeing on the rapidly blurring line between sadistic torture and intimacy. “Though, I must wonder…” He took his time with his words, his tone turning low and husky – the practiced, perfected combination that drove Dell just about as mad as him. “How could an intelligent man like yourself possibly think that you could infiltrate our base without being caught?”

Dell struggled against his restraints, unwittingly putting a very entertaining show on for the doctor. “What’re you gettin’ at?”

“Do not play stupid with me, herr Engineer.” Ludwig cooed in a mockingly sweet manner. “I believe that you intended to bring this to my attention…” He mused, softly purring in his ear.

“Now why would I do that, knowin’ what I know?” He scoffed, turning red up to the ears, from both the doctor’s hot breath against his face and the odd feeling of being nude in front of his enemy.

The Medic’s eyebrows lifted in interest. “Ah, so you have heard the rumours. That is… very good.” He smiled, delighting in his infamy. “Indulge me, tell me what you have heard.” He said absentmindedly as his hand wandered lower, curiously thumbing his exposed clit. He gently explored the shaft with all the warmth of a dead-serious professional, paying special attention to the sensitive, rosy head. Still, he did not dare to step into plain, loving touches and they remained strictly clinical in nature, though that distinctive difference didn’t seem so important when it humiliated him just the same.

Despite knowing better than to hide something from the good doctor – as Ludwig would cheerfully turn him inside out to get what he wanted – he still resisted. “I’d rather not talk about you more than I’ve ought to.”

“I doubt that.” He crooned, grinning at the way he squirmed under the spotlight of the truth. “I believe that you talk about me, or more importantly, think of me very often.” He grew bored of merely touching and turned the device on, drawing his attention to it. “Now, talk. Draw this out any longer, and I will swap this for a scalpel, and this will be far less enjoyable for you.” He threatened him as if he were asking and not demanding it.

“Settle down, doc. There’s no need for any of that. I’ll rub your ego for ya if that’s what you want.” He stalled, remembering the details before he ended up with the doctor’s blade in his guts.

“I would enjoy that, as would anyone. Please, rub away.”

“…I remember that a while ago, our Scout went out to nab some of your papers in hopes of learnin’ some valuable intel, only to make a racket and get caught.”

Ludwig listened attentively, testing the tip against Dell’s nipple, not breaking eye contact for even a moment. “Go on.”

Dell exhaled sharply at the stimulation, his thoughts scattering from the low vibrations. “We found him the next mornin’, gutted, and arranged on the dinin’ table with plates and all. Your handiwork, no doubt.”

He let out a cruel, excited laugh, practically bouncing in his seat from the happy memory. “You are forgetting something.”

“There’s a bit of contention around this part…” Dell said, trying to jog his memory around all the different retellings. “Some say you stuffed him full of birds while others reckon, you’d eaten a couple of bits of him for dinner yourself – hence the er… interestin’ installation.” He continued, a lump forming in his throat from how unusually quiet the other man was. “Either story explains the missin’ chunks.”

“But what do you believe to be true?” He whispered, prompting him.

“Well…” He wasn’t entirely sure himself, but he wasn’t in the position to stay silent. “As far as I’m aware, doves aren’t particularly partial to meat.” He figured that was the logical answer and he wouldn’t put it past Ludwig to have some not so innocent curiosities about human flesh. “You’d have to be the culprit.”

To his horror and ever-loving joy Ludwig trailed the toy down to his abdomen and only brushed the ribbed end against his already eager clit, teasing him with the idea of more stimulation. Dell – though he would never admit it – adored the way fear, shame and excitement melded together as one, to form a warm, satisfying sensation.

“Mm, you are correct. I did try to coax Archimedes into sharing with me… but he is not nearly as adventurous as I am.” The doctor grinned from ear to ear, giddy from the memory of his despicable acts. “Tell me about another. In more detail, bitte.” He asked giddily, his tone promising a reward for compliance.

He ran his memory back, surprised at his own sudden desperation to recall something. “Our Spy, the one we don’t have anymore.” He began, noting the Medic’s growing grin upon the mere mention of the poor man. “He spent days plannin’ on how to get into the enemy’s intelligence. He was so desperate to get it right that he actually talked to me and the others for all the information he could get.” The silence following his words frightened him far more than the doctor’s lingering eyes on him. “When the time came to do it, he must’ve made some oversight ‘cause he never came back.”

“Not all of him returned, correct?” Deep fascination oozed from those words.

He nodded. “We only found his body without a head.” He gasped as the humming shaft was placed on his clit, sending gentle, yet maddeningly pleasurable pulses through it.

“And? There must be more to it than that…” Ludwig’s eyes darted downward, his tongue flicking out to his lips, wetting them at the sight of his fattening cock.

If his thoughts had been scattered before, now they were utterly unreachable. “You haven’t killed him yet, so we’ve started to think that you’re hangin’ on to him for good.” He scrambled to pull a sentence together. “And there’s a lot of talk about what you do with your pet Spy.” He breathed out a sigh, satisfaction brewing inside of him, growing warmer and ever so soothing that he was almost melting into the table.

The doctor enjoyed every word as if they were a song written only for his ears. “I couldn’t care less about what your team thinks I do with him.” He said flatly, making this deeply personal yet again. “I only want to know what you believe.”

“You’re not exactly a predictable fella, doc. I don’t think I could ever guess it right.”

With a dramatic roll of his eyes, Ludwig switched the toy off, depriving him of the wonderful stimulation he’d grown so attached to and his engorged cock throbbed mournfully, begging for it back. Dell wanted to beg too, if only to see that evil glint in the taller man’s eyes. “We are both remarkably intelligent men, Dell. In fact, you can understand me far better than most of the men I work with. Your guesses are bound to be remarkably accurate.”

“I’ve… had some thoughts, yeah.” He really didn’t want to say what he’d been thinking. “I reckon that you use the poor fella as a guard dog of sorts. Maybe you’ve got somethin’ rigged to his life support that makes him scream if someone barges in when you’re busy doin’ somethin’.

Ludwig cackled manically, the sheer volume enough to startle the Engineer. “You are a terrible liar!” Ludwig exclaimed, reaching for his surgical tools – which were frighteningly close to him. “Should I get my tools ready for an impromptu surgery, herr Engineer?”

“N-Naw, y’know what I think ya do with him?” He stammered out.

The doctor was far more attentive now that he had lost his usually laid-back drawl. “Mm?”

“I reckon you fuck the darn thing.”

Ludwig cupped his chin, forcing him to meet his eyes and worse, the madness within them. “Is that what you would do with a severed head?”

He didn’t dare to lie. The doctor knew all of his little signals that would give him away. Dell gave only the slightest nod.

Ludwig chuckled, the sound disturbingly pleased. “We are alike after all.” He turned the device back on, at a greater intensity than before and Dell instinctively bucked against the whirring tip, letting out an embarrassing whine. “You like that, hm?” He rubbed it up against his clit, the extra friction making him squirm. “If you continue to be so well behaved, I might let you play with this too.” He thumbed the smaller head of the toy and a hot, anticipative twitch ran through his cock, – a movement that was witnessed by the doctor. “You will be good for me, won’t you?” He uttered, stepping over the line into something far more intimate than he was comfortable with.

He nodded quickly, his own need to please surprising him.

“Make good on that promise and tell me how you found yourself bound to my table, just like all the rest.” He said, unable to hide his excitement.

He froze up, taken aback by the question. He should have anticipated that this would come full circle, but all the gossip had lulled him into a false confidence. “I was…” He stammered, attempting to lie again when a single glance in his direction stopped him. “I came to RED base hopin’ to set up a teleporter somewhere real quiet-like, so we had an advantage.” He explained, running back through his thought process. “But it made a lot of noise and right as rain, your Heavy came trottin’ along.” Though he’d been afraid of having his skull kicked in, that fear hardly compared to that of being on the doctor’s operating table. “He dragged me right to you, didn’t even rough me up or nothin’.”

“You are getting more interesting to me by the second, Dell… but knowing you are still keeping something from me is incredibly frustrating.” He pulled the toy away, punishing him with its absence. “What is it that you are not telling me?” He demanded, his nearby tools glimmering under the infirmary’s bright lights.

“That’s everythin’, I swear it!”

“Allow me to change my question,” He said, pushing his glasses up. “Do you enjoy the thought of having your intestines ripped out from your body?” He asked, his smile fading in favour of complete and terrifying emotionlessness.

The pressure was too much, and he finally squealed. “I wanted to get caught!” He cried out. “I knew that I’d be sent straight to you, so I went in here and made a racket so y'all would hear it and come runnin'.”

“Fascinating…” Ludwig thought aloud, placing the long, curved head to his entrance. He eased it in, and the Engineer relaxed, relieved by the feeling of fullness, alongside the low hum flowing deep inside of him. “I must ask, though I already know the truth,” He twisted the toy slightly, his gaze reading his face, searching for the most exquisitely sensitive places. He of course, found them in moments. “Are you attracted to me, though such a thing is irrational and ultimately a threat to your wellbeing?”

He looked up to meet the Medic’s deceptively blue eyes, the very picture of innocence embedded into the face of utter depravity. He couldn’t deny that he bore the burden of a deep, wrongful admiration of Ludwig’s shameless decadence. Nor could he dismiss the fact that his peculiar love for the man was often accompanied by a thrilling fear constructed from the Medic’s image of a dangerous, unpredictable man. A reputation Dell almost envied, mostly because he lacked it entirely. He forwent the unique glimmer of infamy in favour of the useful – but ultimately terribly mundane – mask of amiability. To say he was attracted to Ludwig would be an understatement, because every fearful word surrounding the Medic’s name made him want to praise it.

Dell chose not to comment, a silent admission of guilt.

“That’s what I thought.” The Medic turned on the second, smaller head, rewarding him with intense vibrations directly focused on his hard cock.

Dell threw his head back, panting as he was thrown into a world of bliss. He could hardly think, and that made it so much better, as every surviving thought was drenched in the maddening desperation of lust. Ludwig watched him as he whined and moaned, drinking in the view of his body, slicked with sweat and red all over. Amused, he turned the device up yet again, granting him the sensation he had craved for so long. The pleasure mounted far quicker than he had anticipated, and a sudden orgasm overtook him, making him shiver all over as violent, fleeting rushes of ecstasy shot through his entire body. When they faded, the once pleasing intensity became a form of torture. He writhed and squirmed, attempting to escape the device locked deep inside of him as it overstimulated his exhausted clit.

Despite his struggles, the doctor held it inside, the evil glint in his eyes feeding on his pain. “The wonderful thing about you, Dell, is that unlike myself or anyone like me for that matter, you lack a long refractory period.”

In line with Ludwig’s words, he began to feel the rising, growing waves of pleasure welling up once more. It was made even better by the sight of the Medic’s blatant hard-on pushing against the fabric of his pants. To think that Ludwig was enjoying this just as much as his other preferred methods of torture brought him a happiness he couldn’t place. If he had been capable of moving or thinking, he would have offered to help him out. At the moment, he was little more than a melting pool of desperate cries for more. His mind raced with hasty, half-formed images of the man tormenting him. In this state, the Engineer craved the man. He’d do anything just to have him inside of him. He heard himself begging for him to take the device out and take its place, but they fell on deaf ears – a new form of torture. His legs shook and again, the quick, crushing warmth and mindlessness of his climax washed over him.

Everything stung as the powerful hum continued even in the afterglow, making him shriek and twitch. “Turn it off, doc!” He wailed, unable to take the overstimulation again.

“No.” He refused bluntly. “I quite like this arrangement.”

“Please, I can’t—” He winced as Ludwig placed the toy directly over the pink head of his chubby cock, making it sting.

“Don’t complain. I can make it so much worse.” He warned.

At last, the almost painful feelings faded, and he felt as if he was merely receiving a massage rather than being electrocuted. His lashes fluttered, exhaustion setting in as he panted, now thirsty and sore from exertion.

“Are you tired, herr Engineer?” He mocked, talking down to him.

“I’m feelin’ like I’m about to drop dead.”

“Good.” Ludwig praised. “Now, cum again for me, bitte.”

He nearly spat out a series of curses, but he reminded himself of the man’s warning and kept them out of his mouth. He focused on the deep, powerful thrum pounding against his most sensitive places and the delightful attention on his clit, allowing both infinitely fulfilling touches to bring him closer and closer to the edge. The biggest contributor, however, was the Medic’s unrelenting eyes upon him, observing him with wanting, yet devious eyes, planning something more. Ludwig slipped a gloved hand into his pants, fondling himself without even bothering to hide it. Viewing something so dreamlike made his dick throb harder and harder until he came yet again, only this time was stronger than the last, tiring him out almost entirely.

“Again.” Ludwig commanded, his sadistic mind gorging itself on his suffering without any intention of stopping.

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popitdontdropitwrites · 2 years

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"New Invention" Engineer/Medic - Chapter 11

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10,

❗ This is a sequel to Mx. Sinister. Events may not make sense if you have not read that fic.

CW: This one is a dark one. It touches upon potentially triggering and upsetting topics. (Gaslighting, past medical trauma, manipulation, emotional pain so on so forth.) Tread carefully, or avoid reading if you have to.

“Sit down, Joseph.” Dell said, his fingers impatiently tapping against the table, betraying the patient, worried expression on his face. “There’s a little somethin’ we’ve got to talk about.” He let out a long, tired sigh. “…I think you know what it is.”

“I have a feeling, yes.”

Joseph, by all accounts, had slept wonderfully, but now that he was awake, he longed to fall into the world of dreams, where nothing could harm him, not even this. His legs resisted every step, demanding that he stop and turn around before it was too late, but despite it all, he made it to the table. He stood uncomfortably behind his seat with his hands resting on the backrest, looking towards his partner, begging for an end to this oppressive, dreadful quiet between them. Silver eyes, once dull with endless kindness, had been set alight with a dangerous, volatile gleam, further stressed by the heavy bags under his eyes, as if he had not slept at all.

It had been made more than clear; Joseph would be the one doing the talking, the justifying, the repenting. “This is about Misha, isn’t it?” How long had he spent with that name on the very tip of his tongue, on the very precipice of being spoken? It flowed out oh so naturally now, as if he had uttered it hundreds of times before and would soon be spoken thousands more.

Dell continued to stare, the shapes and colours of his pupils becoming too much to bear, as if they were closing in on him, entrapping him in chains. “This is all about him.”

“I thought you would have been happy for me. You must have known that my memory was – and still is – affected… does it really bring you no joy to see me coming back to my former self?”

“Not when you’re thinkin’ about another man.” The tapping stopped, and its absence was almost as hurtful as the Texan’s growl. “You’ve been drawin’ him all night and day, fawnin’ over him like you’re sweet on him… and you say you don’t understand why I’m losin’ my temper?”

“He’s merely my friend! I am allowed to have that, aren’t I?” He snapped back. “But then again, I suppose not, seeing as you didn’t even think to remind me that Misha existed.”

“It was better that way ‘cause I didn’t have to stay awake at night worryin’ that he’d take you from me.”

“Dell, please, it’s not like that and you know it.”

“You think I’m crazy, do ya?” The Engineer’s grip on the table tightened, drawing a pained groan from the wood. “You’d run off with him in a heartbeat, I can see it in your eyes.”

“I love you too much to throw it all away with someone else!” He pleaded, the accusation hitting him under the skin, deep into a nerve like the head of a well-aimed arrow.

“Then just forget about him. He doesn’t deserve you.” Dell stood up tall, meeting his level, his posture tense with almost animalistic rage, as if he could lunge at any moment.

Joseph doubled down, despite his every instinct begging him to simply submit. “I… I haven’t seen him in months, Dell. I can’t hurt him like that any longer.”

“Oh, ain’t that cute, you don’t wanna hurt him. Let me tell you a secret, darlin’, he hurt you.”

His heart fell into his guts, kicking and screaming on the way down. “I know him. He could never do so much as lay a finger on me. You can’t say the same.”

“You don’t wanna go there, boy. Don’t you dare make this about me.” He warned him through both gravelly tone and austere expression that such a terrible assault would not go unreciprocated.

“Or what, Dell, you’ll pump me so full of drugs that I can’t sleep? Or maybe you’ll rip both of my arms off this time?”

A crackling, crunching sound erupted from the gunslinger as it crushed the corner of the table, the shards passing through its robotic fingers like dust. Dell did not seem to notice, not even when a flighty gasp escaped Joseph’s lips. “Everythin’ I’ve done was for your own good!”

“Tell me how the totally unethical and lest I forget, completely unmedicated amputation was for my own benefit? There were so many risks and potential complications, but you did it anyway, without training, without anything at all but your own ego to guide you.”

“I was fixin’ you!”

“I am not one of your fucking machines! I am a human being; I don��t need to be fixed.”

“Joseph, you’re not hearin’ me. He was the one to break ya in the first place.”

“I’m not going to allow you to fill my head with lies again. I—I am not turning against the man who has done nothing but help me!”

“I don’t care what you think you remember, but let me tell ya, you’re wrong about him.”

He swallowed thickly, his throat closing up. “There is a lot still missing, but I remember Misha completely – his laughter, his smile, his voice, it’s all there. Not once did he harm me in all of our years together.”

“Darlin’, it’s not me who’s lyin’, it’s that pretty little head of yours.” He said. “You don’t remember, do ya?”

“Remember what, exactly?”

His gaze lost its firmness in favour of an inexplicable sentimentality, but the latter was far more frightening due to the pity hidden in his glistening sclera. “That damned hospital.”

He blinked, once, twice, static undulating behind his eyes, cold, dry, and hypnotically dull like the depths of space. Faintly, from a distant star, he recalled the pricks of needles, the fizz of dissolving, bubbling powder on his tongue, the metallic taste of tools, all of which promised an end to his pain.

“You kicked, screamed and begged, but it didn’t matter. Misha dragged you right to ‘em, right where he wanted you; in a cage, like some kind of fuckin’ animal.”

Joseph weakly stumbled back, his body colliding with the wall, slowly shrinking towards the ground, unable to fight back against remembrance’s onslaught of voices, yellowed and faded with age, bouncing between his ears, distorted, and muffled, as if he were drowning. Faceless men asked him the same old questions, designed to probe, and poke at his fracturing, splitting mind, to name the monster running rampant in his head in hopes of someday leashing it, or perhaps, killing it altogether.

“He told ya that you were sick in the head. He couldn’t see that you’re different, just… curious.”

Tears welled in his eyes, threatening to spill as a beautiful, vivid sound pierced the low rumble of men, the hum of machines and the wails of patients through the mazelike, spiralling halls. Drip, drip, drip – seductively thick, ruby droplets, the very essence of life carved from the flesh, the only beauty in that hell of soothing greens. And oh, the feeling of them falling against his tongue, so delicious and so flavourful compared to the gruel they served him.

“He tried to kill ya then, usin’ the hands of doctors and nurses to shove drugs down your throat until you lost everythin’ that made you brilliant.”

It all came back to him in blinding, brilliant colours, as if the sun were exploding before his eyes, causing the first of many tears to fall on his lip. The taste was tangy like that of the gloved digits pressed against the sensitive tissue of his throat, forcing his burning muscles to swallow down his new pernicious regimen of medicine, hoping to remedy the previous’ meagre results.

“And the worst part? He never visited. You’d cry for him every damned night, thinkin’ your tears could bring him back, but he was always too afraid of what he’d see.”

He sobbed loudly and uglily, with only the coarse kiss of fabric to stifle his screams and hungrily drink his tears; an inadequate substitute for the comfort of another’s shoulder, but the only option in that cold, lonely eternity. The sound and sensation of breath passed through him, rattling and stuttering, as if he were dying, but the sun rose as it always did, beaming from behind the curtains, mocking him from afar, for it had the moon to keep it company.

“They kept you there for years, toiling away in one of their partner’s factories as cheap, disposable labour under the pretence of rehabilitation. The money was just a number, slowly risin’ by the hour. You were just interested in passin’ the time like everybody else.”

Eyes, grey and unrelenting like the metal components he assembled into meaningless shapes bore down upon him, judging his pitiful, grief-stricken form. Joseph worked without complaint, his hands blistered, reddened and clammy from the suffocating skin of his gloves, passing finished parts along to the next man in line. The occasional defective component arose from the man before, who was perhaps too tired, or too delusional to recognise his mistake and though most discarded them, Joseph instead filled his pockets with them – New toys, made of jagged edges and sharp malformations, engraved with stimulatingly rough lettering: Conagher Robotics.

“Somehow, after who knows how darn long, you passed their assessments and met their criteria, all of which had seemed impossible once. They deemed you of sound mind – whatever that meant and sent you on your way.”

He collapsed entirely, just as he had done at Misha’s feet on that day, wailing and fighting to breathe through the bittersweet agony. He was lifted into the car and delivered into a carriage of novel sounds – the crunch of gravel under wheels, the distorted songs of the radio, the purr of an engine and the long-forgotten voice of his best friend. The fantastical colours of the world that had gone on without him failed to seem real in that moment, as if it had all been a dream and he would soon wake up in his cot in a pool of his own tears.

“Misha took ya home, looked after you even, and made sure you weren’t gonna start hurtin’ nobody. And then… you slowly picked yourself back up. You found yourself a job, a proper place to live, and ways around that mind of yours, all the while forgettin’ who had sent you to hell in the first place.”

Dell’s hand wiped his tears, a cruel mockery of the happiness he had shed when he was given the power to forge a pleasant, reinvigorating routine with his own two hands. He worked as a nurse – something he did with a smile – occasionally visited his doctor for a progress report, saw Misha each and every week – the highlight of it all – and slept soundlessly, with dreams of love fluttering about his exhausted mind. But there was something… someone more, cut out of the picture, unable to fit.

“It didn’t last, ‘cause nothin’ ever goes right for you, does it?”

His breath hitched, stifling a scream, the same scream that had been bubbling in his throat when shadows scuttled in the dark of his apartment, breathing down his neck with his belongings in their claws. With them, came the stifling presence of malaise in the place he called home, like a poison leaking from the mind, birthing paranoia, and delusion – madness itself.

“You got sick,” He spat the word out, repulsed by it. “And you tried desperately to hide it, knowin’ it’d only cause you trouble. But Misha found out and it was different this time around. He was angry, angrier than you’ve ever seen him.”

“Stop it, please, Dell, stop. I can’t—”

“—One day, you both drove right past the hospital. He didn’t think to tell you why.” His pleas fell on deaf ears, becoming nothing but noise to be talked over. “He stopped the car and told ya to get out. You walked for a little while, into the fields and it got real quiet all of a sudden. There was somethin’ about his eyes, that just screamed at you to run… but you weren’t fast enough.”

Images, broken, muddled, blurred, and bloodied crossed his mind far too quickly to be caught, like fireflies in a storm. Screams, dissected and rearranged, split across his temples, in tones shrill enough to be his own. The taste of copper melded with that of the dirt, and of primal, unimaginable fear – the fear of death. The moon hung above him, its face twisted and bloated into a smile in his withering, shrivelling memory, reflected in the eyes of the man pursuing him.

“And then, he ripped you apart, like a broken toy.”

His heart wailed in his chest, the metal remembering the violent, lamentable end of its predecessor as it too, was torn apart, this time by betrayal’s powerful, merciless hands. He had been a glorious fountain of life, gushing blood and living tissue until he had nothing more to give, but in this moment, he transformed into a hideous outpour of death, wailing, screaming, gasping to breathe. The pain, too unfathomably tremendous to comprehend then, was somehow equally as devastating now. He begged to be returned to the world below, his fists pounding against the tiles again and again until warm, reassuring blood ran over his skin.

“Why—” He rasped, shaking hands clawing at the ground to find purchase. “Why did you bring me back?” He choked, a fresh flood of tears spilling from him, like gushes of blood from an open wound.

“Because you deserve to be here, safe from him.” Dell crouched down to him, holding both of his hands, his warmth as oppressive as it was comforting.

“I… I don’t want to live without him.” Somehow, through the hiccupping, choking, and gasping, the words made it, scarred, and dismembered, but still comprehendible. “What r-reason do I have if he wants me dead?”

He was held tighter and Dell’s tone, once rough and cold, melted into total and utter love, like the stinging, yet kind touch of healing. “You have me, Joseph. I love you, and I always will.”

That phrase, rich with meaning, turned to dust upon leaving the Texan’s lips. “I-I just want him, even—” He bared his teeth, tasting salt on his tongue. “Even after everything he has done. I… I must truly be mad.” He laughed pathetically, the sound a wet, bubbling gurgle. “But I can’t have him, can I? I may as well just ask for death!” He cackled, emptying his lungs until he heaved. “Would you be so kind?”

The Engineer stopped in place, the loving strokes of his fingers ceasing as he processed that enormous, unthinkable request. His lashes fluttered, the paleness of horror spreading across his face, like a curtain of clouds parting to reveal the alabaster surface of the moon, only its smile had long since died. “Oh, darlin’…” He breathed, pulling him in for a hug, granting him the shoulder he had been so desperate for. “I don’t want you to suffer anymore, but that… that ain’t the way to do it.” His voice cracked, as if he too, had begun to weep. “I can take the pain away, all I need is for you to ask.”

“Help me, Dell. Please…”

A hiss sounded from the cables in his neck, and slowing, slowing, like wax cooling as it ran down the side of a candle, his consciousness faded, a mere whisper in the wind to be carried away. Dell lifted him into his arms, planting a shaky kiss on his forehead, promising him an end to his pain at last; one final procedure.

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