“I’m surprised the guards let you leave this up. Wouldn’t it be considered . . .Evil—or something,” Izz’s voice is still raspy, and it has Sinn'ous’s teeth clenching. And he speaks that last part ‘evil’like it’s scandalous or something.
Each painted page on the wall, script written in ink, interlacing symbols and markings, all speak to a higher power. A deity beyond measure. None but Satan should exist to be followed.
“A lot of them think stepping foot in here will condemn them to Hell—”
Izz bursts out laughing, a tense unsure noise edged in hysteria. A way to expel nervous energy. “They think you’re the Devil?” The boy’s voice is hoarse, and strained.
If he could kill those men over again he would in a heartbeat.
Over and over and over again.
They got off too easily, they should have been made to suffer. To writhe in agony and choke on their own blood, begging for adeath Sinn'ous would deny them. At least, until he got bored of prolonging their life and ended them.
But to answer Izz’s question. No he has never seen himself as the Devil. Can never claim that title over the one who owns it. It is not his place, he will never be above Satan, always below and willing to follow, to serve.
He can’t voice any of his beliefs, not if he doesn’t want to scare off the boy. Evading the question seems more apt. “I’ve never asked. Don’t care.”
Izz shuts down, in the way his eyes fade and his demeanour shifts. A subtle change anyone would miss if they weren’t like Sinn'ous and able to read people so effortlessly.
“I see.” The far-off look intensifies behind Izz’s green eyes, and a yearning joins them when they drift to Sinn'ous’s bunk.
“You can relax, if you wish. Get some rest.”
Izz nods, slips off his shoes, clambers onto the bunk, and settles under the thin sheet. Twisting and shuffling over until he is lying close to the wall, his back to Sinn'ous, his front pressed against the rough wall. The only separation being the blanket wrapped tight to his body.
An empty space left behind him. A very glaring invitation for Sinn'ous to join.
By the time he takes the invite, and slips in behind Izz, the boy is out cold. And he discovers it’s more tolerable to watch the boy sleep. No hard to answer questions, no meaningless conversations. Just quiet stillness, and the opportunity to explore a warm body. Alivingwarm body. Not somethingwarmfor nowthat death’s pull hasn’t yet claimed and cooled to a chill.
No pinching off his expressions, no worries he’s giving anything away through his eyes.
Like this, he can let down his walls and bask in the present. Though, taking into consideration how pliant and rule-abiding his boy is, it shouldn’t take long to break him in completely.
Oh, how I can’t wait for you to bend to my will.
~~~
Sitting on the brittle sheets, mattresses compressed under his weight, Sinn'ous has his head cocked to the side, eating in the still form sleeping under his sheets. In his bunk. Among his possessions.
Riding the suspended trance he’s been indulging in since Izz fell asleep, however many hours ago that was. He’d only reluctantly left to scavenge some food from the kitchens, and much to the guards’ annoyance he’d brought that food back to his cell. He’s sure Rogers will be getting bitched at to deal with him. But it needn’t matter, he’ll do as he pleases and Rogers won’t step over the line.
Izz’s eyes flutter open, and Sinn'ous takes this as the time to feed him.
“Sit up,” Sinn'ous instructs, presenting the bowl to Izz, the triple six tattoos flashing on his wrists. A dark branding dedicated to whom he serves. “I have pain meds for you too.”
Bracing elbows into the mattresses, Izz cradles the sustenance in delicate hands. Balancing it on the bunk in order to accept the pills. A whispered thank you is given, then he’s pinching the three little pills between his fingers, plucking them out of the offered hand, and stuffing them into his mouth. The soup is used to wash down the pills. And the rest is chugged down fairly quickly.
The boy neither argues or presses on what the pills are, or protests overeating. Sinn'ous would be fuming if it had been anyone else giving Izz pills that he swallowed without so much as a raised brow in question. But considering it’s him and he wants a pliant obedient boy, he will let the issue slide.
For now.
They will be having a discussion in the future about Sinn'ous being the only one Izz is allowed to follow blindly. A discussion he would like to nail in by burying himself balls deep inside Izz.
Once done, Sinn'ous takes the bowl, placing it on the floor. Left awake in the cell he goes back to watching over Izz’s exhausted form. As though the boy is taking this time to catch up on all the sleepless nights in prison. A testament to the trust he has handed over to Sinn'ous.
The building blocks he’s worked on, brick by brick, to create a dependency in the boy has worked. It has bloomed into a show of utter vulnerability.
~~~
