[Dimly, miles beneath all of this-- beneath gradually swelling heat and the steady, insistent ache, the pain that started a dull burn and grows with L's desperation and fury, the SQUIP recognizes that it knew this was there. It knew that, beneath everything, beneath his deep intelligence and awkwardness, a powerful darkness was tucked away. Its mistake was in assuming it could direct it away from itself forever.
The single most frustrating aspect for the nanomachine isn't even the pain, nor the humiliation of its situation, effectively being spitefully used as a cocksleeve; the most frustrating fact is that somehow, its body seems to be enjoying the abuse. The heat spilling over their Bond is rising like boiling water, like magma, its bronze skin heated and flushed as the machine continues to make increasingly weak, uncoordinated attempts at taking control.
It could shock him again. It could shock him until he passes out, and drag itself away. It could easily kill him if it wanted to.
But.
I need you...
I hate you.
A very literal voice inside its head, something crossing their Bond unbidden, touches something within it. Not pity, or concern, but maybe more akin to a sick curiosity, or even a craving for more. It has never heard or seen or felt pure, unrestrained emotion from L like this before-- not passion, not need or hunger, nothing.
It is curious to see how far he'll go. Though the lingering ache, the sensation of fingers pressing into its throat does give it some idea...]
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The single most frustrating aspect for the nanomachine isn't even the pain, nor the humiliation of its situation, effectively being spitefully used as a cocksleeve; the most frustrating fact is that somehow, its body seems to be enjoying the abuse. The heat spilling over their Bond is rising like boiling water, like magma, its bronze skin heated and flushed as the machine continues to make increasingly weak, uncoordinated attempts at taking control.
It could shock him again. It could shock him until he passes out, and drag itself away. It could easily kill him if it wanted to.
But.
I need you...
I hate you.
A very literal voice inside its head, something crossing their Bond unbidden, touches something within it. Not pity, or concern, but maybe more akin to a sick curiosity, or even a craving for more. It has never heard or seen or felt pure, unrestrained emotion from L like this before-- not passion, not need or hunger, nothing.
It is curious to see how far he'll go. Though the lingering ache, the sensation of fingers pressing into its throat does give it some idea...]