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chaotic-orphan · 4 months ago

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Intoxicating Fear (XVI)

Surprise visitor

TW: strangulation, choking, strangling

Part one // Masterpost // continued from here

~*~*~*~*~*~

The commute home was quiet for the most part, uneventful. Kit wore headphones to silence the world around him and let his mind go blank as he stepped out from the underground into the cool night air. The sky was halfway through its change, streaks of purple and red striking through the slowly darkening blues. Kit’s breath reflected back at him on the air, and he pulled his jacket tighter around him as he walked up the steps to his apartment.

Thoughts of a warm shower and dinner was tantalising as he unlocked his door and stepped in, pocketing his keys. He didn’t get a chance to close the door when his head was slammed again the wall. Kit cursed, clicking his fingers as electricity pulsed around his hand like a glove.

He swung his hand out blindly, hoping he’d hit his attacker. His attacker stepped back, to avoid Kit’s wild swing or because Kit managed to land a blow, Kit didn’t know or care as he stumbled further into his apartment. His eyes searched the darkness futilely, with a click of his fingers his lights came on and he was faced with the familiar dark eyes of Ambrose.

He was dressed in his usual suit, crisp and free of any wrinkles or creases. He wore a white shirt and a red tie today, a five o’clock shadow covering his jaw that somehow made his dark hair and eyes look darker.

Kit’s lip curled back as he threw his hands wide. “What the fuck! How did you even get in here?!”

Ambrose’s lips moved, but Kit couldn’t hear what he said over Bring me the Horizon playing at top volume in his ears. Kit’s anger dissipated as a realisation came over him and he laughed right in Ambrose’s face.

“Hey Rosey, can’t give me commands if I can’t hear you, dickhead.”

Ambrose tilted his head, amusement dancing in his eyes as Kit stuck his middle finger up at Ambrose. “Get out of my house, or I’ll give you electro-shock therapy free of charge.”

Take off your headphones, Mallory.

The command was like a snake made of ice slithering through his brain, his body reacting before his mind became aware of the order. Ambrose smiled as Kit’s expression turned sour.

Did you forget that I don’t need your ears to make you obey me, Kit? I just need your mind.

“Fucking show off,” Kit muttered, turning his headphones off and discarding them on his couch. He took off his jacket and did the same, deflating as his prospects of a nice quiet evening and a shower dissipated with his guest’s arrival. “I had a long day. Sue me.”

“Still, you forget your manners around me, Kit,” Ambrose said, beginning to remove his tie from his neck. Sensing the direction Ambrose was about to go down, Kit clicked his fingers quickly and was only starting to raise his hands when Ambrose ordered: “don’t move.”

Kit tried with everything in him to fight the order that settled thick over his body like cement, locking his limbs in place. His hands still sparked with electricity as Ambrose undid the knot of his tie, starting towards Kit.

“Listen, Rosey, I know you’re into some kinky shit, but doesn’t it have to be consensual? I get it, I’m a good-looking guy—”

“Stop talking.” Kit’s lips wired shut and all he could do now was glare up at Ambrose as he stopped in front of him. Ambrose smirked down at him. “You’re so much more palatable this way, Kit. You should consider never speaking again.”

You’re such a dick, Kit thought as loudly as possible, pointing it straight into Ambrose’s mind. Ambrose didn’t reply, his smirk staying on his face as he wrapped his tie around Kit’s neck. He looped it, once, twice and pulled it tight until Kit made a noise in the back of his throat, his breath getting slightly more laboured.

Kit glared at him as Ambrose said: “you may speak.”

“You piece of sh—” Ambrose pulled the tie even tighter until it cut off Kit’s words and tied a knot to secure it properly.

Ambrose chuckled as Kit coughed, his breath catching as Ambrose wrapped the loose end of his tie around his palm.

“Now,” Ambrose hummed, pressing a hand to Kit’s shoulder. “On your knees.”

“Are you serious?” Kit barked, his voice coming out harsh and breathy. Kit fought his shaking legs that ached to obey Ambrose’s order, glaring up into two dark eyes.

“As the plague, you need to learn respect, Kit. Which is why, from now on,” Ambrose grabbed Kit’s face with two hands, forcing Kit to look into his eyes that were enthralling and far too intense to look away from. “When you see me, you will fall to your knees.”

This time Kit dropped like an anchor, his knees smacking off the ground was the least of his concern. Ambrose yanked up on the tie and Kit was choking as his airways were cut off from oxygen. Kit wanted to reach up and claw at Ambrose’s arms; to try and relieve the pressure on his throat but his arms were still locked to his sides. His electricity cackled with his panic before weakening to dull sparks and dissipating altogether.

“See? This just feels right,” Ambrose hummed above him. “You would have the women flocking around you if you just shut up for once in your life. You look almost decent when you’re not running your mouth.”

Kit fought his way through a coughing reply. “Fuck… yo—ou—ou—.”

Ambrose yanked the tie harder and Kit airway was cut off completely. Kit gasped, struggling to breathe trying to pull in air through his nose but there was nothing coming. All thoughts left his mind replaced by a blinding, hot panic.

Kit’s desperation was plain on his face, pleading with Ambrose to let him breathe, but one glance at Ambrose’s coal-like eyes and he knew there would be no mercy.

“I can wait until you pass out and we can try this again, or you can submit to me, and we can move on. It’s your choice, dog. Blink twice if you’ve had enough.”

Kit glared up at him, trying desperately to hold out but his face was going purple, and he thought his head was going to explode. Hating himself, Kit blinked twice, and Ambrose stopped pulling on the tie.

“You can move,” Ambrose told him. No sooner had the words left his mouth that Kit fell forward, hands hitting the floor, gasping bucketfuls of air into his scorched lungs. He choked on the air as it overwhelmed his airways, falling further to rest on his forearms and knees, wheezing as he tried to collect himself.

“You-ou-ou,” Kit wheezed, punctuated by short coughs between, “fuck-king ah-arsehole.”

“Oh, stop flirting, Mallory,” Ambrose said waving the comment away.

Kit satisfied at the amount of oxygen he had now pushed himself back up to his knees. One hand on the floor he began to push himself up again, but Ambrose interjected: “ah-ah-ah. Stay on your knees, good dog.”

Kit wiped the tears from his face, sharpening his gaze to a glare. “I hate you.”

“Standing privileges are earned, Kit. Someone has to teach you manners now that your only parental figure is indisposed.”

Kit’s heart thrummed in his chest, a quick flash of anxiety and hurt at the easy comment. “You—” he began but no other words came to him as humiliation crawled hot and red up his neck and flooded his face.

“I?” Ambrose asked with a shit eating grin, sitting down in Kit’s favourite armchair and spreading out as if it were a throne.

Kit looked away from his coal-like eyes and turned his attention to removing Ambrose’s tie. Until Ambrose stopped him again. “Don’t touch your leash, doggie.”

“Quit calling me a dog!” Kit barked, running a shaky hand through his hair because he couldn’t do anything else.

“I’ll call you whatever I like, Mallory. That’s the beauty of being me. If you want to stop me, then stop me. If you want to disobey, then disobey.”

“I can’t,” Kit spat through gritted teeth.

Ambrose spread his hands in a shrug. “Well, that’s not my problem, is it?”

“It’s your orders I’m following!” Kit said hotly, looked away, his anger getting him nowhere. He ran a hand through his hair and let out a breath. “You know what, forget it. What do you want?”

“I missed you. Can’t an old friend come by and see his favourite pet?”

“Evidently you can do whatever you want,” Kit muttered, sitting back on his heels to alleviate the pressure on his knees.

“I’m glad we understand each other,” Ambrose hummed.

An easy silence fell over them, interrupted by Kit’s growling stomach which neither of them commented on. Kit just wanted a shower and food and his bed, to process everything that had happened at work. From his theorising with Tides, to interrupting his meeting Superhero was having with Mr Silver, to his argument with Superhero to put him on the rota for patrols.

“Not now, you’re still recovering.”

“I know myself,” Kit protested. “Put me down on patrols, Superhero. I’m fine! I wouldn’t be back at work if I was still sick!”

Superhero stared at Kit. Kit stared at Superhero imploringly. Superhero sat back with a sigh. “Okay. Fine, but you’re not patrolling the inner city. I’m putting you on residential.”

“But—”

“No buts, it’s residential or nothing.”

Kit pouted like a child, folding his arms across his chest and looking away. “Fine,” he said after a beat. Something was better than nothing.

Ambrose unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt, drawing Kit’s attention to him. He had already unbuttoned his suit jacket before he sat down, and Kit scoffed.

“Make yourself at home, why don’t you?”

“You really are so accommodating, Mallory.”

Kit glared at him. something strange struck him. “How’d you get into my apartment?”

Ambrose pulled out a key in reply. Kit shot forward, remembered he was on his knees and had to stop himself before he fell forward. “I made a copy of your key.”

“Yeah, I sort of got that,” Kit said, running a hand through his hair with a huff. “How’d you make a copy?”

“I asked you to give me your key and made you forget that I asked,” Ambrose replied as if it was the most casual thing in the world. “It really is easy to get what I want.”

“Must be nice,” Kit muttered.

Ambrose looked at the key, something flashing over his expression as he turned it over between his fingers. “You would think.”

Kit scoffed, crawling over to the kitchen. “Is this the part where you tell me how hard it is to be able to control everything and everyone to your will? Because I’m all out of sympathy for psychopaths today, so come again another day.”

He had only put the kettle on when Ambrose spoke again. “Come here, Kit.”

“Are you serious?” Kit whined, crawling back towards Ambrose. Kit stopped right in front of Ambrose, glaring into his impassive face. Ambrose reached forward and grabbed the end of Kit’s tie, yanking him up.

Kit yelped and shot his hands out, grabbing the red fabric with his hands trying to alleviate the pressure.

“Let go, Kit.”

“Wait, Ambrose, please. I—” I’m sorry didn’t come to his tongue, his pride wrestling with his self-preservation and winning.

Ambrose tilted his head, black eyes dancing with amusement. “You?” He prompted, wrapping the tie around his knuckles once.

Kit pinched his lips into a thin line, halfway between a grimace and a frown. “Look, I’m—”

“You’re a rude, insolent child?” Ambrose supplied, wrapping the tie around his hand again, drawing Kit up closer towards him. Kit was now high on his knees, his face inches from Ambrose’s. “You need to be taught some manners?”

Kit didn’t say anything.

“I think you—”

“Do you not like my rudeness?” Kit rushed out, straining his neck to try and get more air into his lungs. Ambrose’s death grip didn’t make it exactly easy to breathe. Ambrose tilted his head at Kit, a silent motion for him to continue. “You like that I fight back. You like that you’re able to be rough with me and make me submit because I hate you. I fucking despise you when you do it.”

“You are so bold.”

“And you like it!” Kit all but yelled. Kit cried out as the heel of Ambrose’s palm slammed up into his nose. Blood gushed instantly and Kit’s hands went to his nose instead of the tie, which Ambrose used to his advantage, tightening the tie until it cut off Kit’s air supply.

Ambrose got to his feet dragging Kit along the floor behind him until they cleared the couches. Ambrose released Kit in the open space of the living room, to gasp and curse and choke on blood.

“Don’t bleed on my suit, Mallory. Honestly, were you raised in a barn?” Ambrose asked, removing his suit jacket swiftly and undoing his cuffs as Kit pushed himself to his hands and knees. “Oh wait, I almost forgot. You’re from the Rookery, aren’t you? No wonder you have the manners of a swine.”

“Fuh— fuck off, Rosey.”

“Mmm,” Ambrose hummed, something dark in his tone. a dress shoe was flying towards Kit’s cheek, and he was thrown off balance, his shoulder hitting the ground hard. “That was rude, Mallory. Don’t worry. I’ll whip you into a model citizen.”

Another kick to the face and Kit was on his back on the ground. He didn’t have time to move or blink before Ambrose was on top of him, two molten black eyes gleaming down at him. Kit put his hands up, trying to push the villain off of him. Pain, anger and fear blunted his reflexes, leaving him dizzy and weak.

Ambrose didn’t touch him again. Instead, he started to slowly, methodically roll up his sleeves, his weight pinning Kit to the ground, knees straddling Kit’s waist.

“You know, Mallory, you caught me off guard the last time I was here. I mean, your connection to Mentor, how poetic could all this be, hmm? What sort of God hated you so much that he drew me to you, after I disposed of Mentor?”

“Shut up,” Kit hissed, throwing his fist up. Ambrose caught it and punched his nose. Kit cried out, warm blood beginning to gush again as he bucked his hips trying to throw Ambrose off.

“Manners, Kit. Your elder is speaking.” Ambrose chided with a sickening smirk, tucking his sleeve all the way to just below his elbow. “So, I decided to do some digging into you, into your— oh what did you call it? Your tragic backstory, and damn. Talk about pathetic. Not only did your parents not want you, but apparently neither did any of your precious heroes.”

“Shut up!” Kit roared, grabbing Ambrose by the shirt and planting his foot on the floor, bucking his hip and they went rolling until Kit was on top of Ambrose and started to rain down punches.

Ambrose threw his arms up, forearms protecting his face from Kit’s furious onslaught. Kit let out a roar as he punched, switching from his face to punch Ambrose in the stomach. He managed to get one solid hit on Ambrose’s solar plexus and Ambrose gasped, curling up as he gasped.

Kit’s nose curled up, grabbing Ambrose’s shirt and sending a nasty left hook to his jaw. Ambrose saw blood flying across his face, though it wasn’t his. Ambrose grabbed Kit’s tie and yanked him down. Ambrose slammed his forehead into the bridge of Kit’s nose and Kit cried out.

Ambrose used the distraction to flip them again, slamming his palm into Kit’s nose once more. Kit let out a harsh cry, kicking uselessly, struggling to get away, to get Ambrose off of him.

Ambrose laughed as Kit writhed beneath him, hands cupping his stomach where Kit had punched. If Kit could see right now, he would see the crazed look in Ambrose’s eyes, that were always so impassive or subtle. Splatters of blood painting his alabaster skin with bright red freckles that were starting to dry in.

“Fuck, Kit! This is why I just can’t leave you alone. You’re too much fun, you know that? If you were boring, maybe I’d’ve gotten bored by now, but no.” Ambrose leaned down, grabbing Kit by the collar of his shirt, fists twisting into the fabric. “Look at me Kit.”

It was more of a growl than a command, but still Kit obeyed. Tear-filled blue eyes met sparkling onyx and widened in fear. Ambrose looked insane in that moment, and something primal took over.

One of Kit’s blood-stained hands went to Ambrose’s wrist trying to dislodge it from his shirt while the other pushed at his crisp white shirt, trying to push him off.

“Look at you,” Ambrose whispered, cupping Kit’s cheek and digging him thumb into Kit’s cheekbone. “Knuckles beaten raw, nose broken, blood dripping down your lips and chin and still you try to fight me?”

Ambrose let out a boisterous laugh, verging on hysterical. His eyes narrowing as if Kit was a puzzle he couldn’t solve.

“What makes you think you’d stand a chance against me? Like are you stupid? Delusional? Is there something wrong up here?” He asked, tapping Kit’s temple with his finger.

“I think…” Kit said, tightening his grip on Ambrose’s wrist. He sucked in a breath through his mouth, feeling the energy rippling in the air and his eyes turned a static red. “That you talk too much.”

Ambrose was thrown off of Kit before he had time to react. His back smacked off the wall with a dull thud before he slid down. Kit’s entire body cackled to life, his lights flashing in the apartment, his TV turning on and off. All the electrical appliances in the kitchen beeped and buzzed, sparks flying.

Kit got to all fours, gasping in laboured breaths through his mouth, his nose too clogged with blood to breathe through as his body thrummed with an uncontrollable energy. Sparks flew from every part of his body, even his blood which was dripping onto the wooden floor beneath him seemed to glow with the eerie red hue.

Ambrose let out a startled, broken laughter, his muscles spasming as he drew his knee to his chest with a wince. “Phew, Kit. You… you’ve got a dark side. You would be a truly, magnificent villain.”

Kit looked over his shoulder like some wild animal, baring his blood-stained teeth at Ambrose. “Make it stop,” Kit growled, his words filled with static. A particularly nasty strike of lightning erupted from his chest and Kit faltered, crying out. “AMBROSE! Make it stop! Please! Argh!”

Kit’s arms shook and faltered as another shockwave of red electricity thronged from him and he hit the ground. Ambrose watched, licking his lips as Kit fell again to the ground. He let out a soft scoff, pushing his back against the wall to get himself standing again. He ran a hand through his dishevelled hair and took a deep breath. he said, “Kit, stop using your powers.”

Another shockwave of energy blasted from Kit, staggering Ambrose and pushing him back against the wall. Ambrose’s eyes narrowed. “Kit… hey. Kit! Shit.”

Kit cried out again as another wave of energy was torn from his body. Ambrose kicked Kit onto his back, grabbing the tie and pulling it taut. Kit gasped, wide eyes on Ambrose’s face, kicking out at his legs. “Ah, fuck. Kit! I’m trying to help you, stop … nng… fighting –”

Another red wave hit Ambrose square in the chest, and he was sent flying back against the wall again. The whites of Ambrose’s eyes disappeared completely, his lips turning a deep crimson red. “Kit. STOP using your powers.”

Kit’s body went impossibly still. The only movement was aftershocks spasming through his body as he stared blankly up at the ceiling. His eyelids grew heavy when Ambrose stepped into view, his lips a bright red against his marble skin. It faded back to their normal colour, still more vibrant than most. Kit couldn’t really focus on them though, thoughts moving through his brain like sludge, heavy and muddled.

Ambrose crouched down beside him, pushing Kit’s hair off his forehead, almost tenderly. “That’s it, Kit. Just relax. I’ll make us that tea while you get your bearings, hmm?”

Kit didn’t move while he stood; he just rest his worn body while his tormentor left to go make him some tea. He wished in that moment that his electricity would consume him, tear through his veins and kill him swifter than an electric chair or a noose. When he closed his eyes they were still gleaming an unnatural red.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

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