1 . Name: Anonymous @ 2009-06-01 11:07

Every repost is a repost repost. By Novichok.

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Scout thought he was about to bite straight through his own lip - no way was he going to let himself scream.

It was hard not to, considering Spy seemed remarkably good at hitting the same place twice. Hot pain spread up from his backside, and he blinked back the tears - he wouldn't give the sick bastard the satisfaction he wouldn't - but each blow stung more than the last and he could barely keep in the squeaks that escaped, taking in a desperate gulp of air and trying to distract himself from the sting of whatever it was he was getting lashed with. Something thin. A cane? A whip?

"Barely a sound, petit! Obviously I'm not being harsh enough."

Oh god. That one hurt. Most likely broke the skin, and a choked squeal came from him as he tugged at the rope binding his wrists in desperation. His legs writhed in pain but his ankles were bound to the legs of the bench that he was forced to lie on, and he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

"You fuckin' sicko I'll fuckin' kill you- aah!" He was cut off as another sharp strike hit his ass and he screamed, mouth open wide and back arching in shock. He couldn't see Spy, but he could practically feel the smirk, heard the light, smug chuckle. His face burned red and he ducked his head down in shame.

"What was that? Ah, je suis desole," Scout could feel something cold and thin press at his red raw skin, his hips squirming to move but a warm hand on his behind gripped him threateningly - not enough to hurt, but enough to remind him he could do bugger all in retaliation. His breath had turned into ragged panting now, his eyes squeezed shut and a few tears staining his cheeks. "But it does suit you. Have you had enough?" A finger felt the raised marks now scarring his backside, something warm and wet streaking - he'd hit hard enough to yield blood, Scout realised, dripping in nervous sweat.

When he opened his eyes, the suited bastard was towering over him, holding in his hand something long and sharp and - fuck, is that a rapier? No wonder it felt like his ass was in shreds. Where the heck did he get that thing from? "J-Jesus..."

With a quick movement (he could hear it slice through the air, quick and sharp) the tip was right under his throat, trailing up his face - Spy laughed and watched as his wide eyes followed, going crosseyed before he pulled away. "He's not here at the moment. May I take a message?"

"F-fuck you, you pervert-"

"Did you enjoy it? On the roof?" Oh God. His voice is thick with something malicious.

He's not happy.

"Wh-what?"

"With the convict."

"Th-the-?"

"Sniper, mon petit tapin," he cooed gently, wiping some of the tears away softly with his thumb. A look of frightened realisation formed on Scout's face, and Spy could only grin. Now he gets it, doesn't he?

"Fuck ya talkin' about-"

"Hahdah, Snipah!" Spy said, that shark-like smirk widening as he mocked the boy's accent, watching that blush deepen and his eyes flicking downwards. "Y-yeah, right theah!"

"Fuck you, you fuckin'- g-gah!" Another smack of the rapier across his ass, leaving yet another thin red welt over the cheeks. Scout struggled to hold back the tears from the fresh, sharp pain.

"Well, I hope you enjoyed it. And to think, mon petit," the cold metal grazed against his lower back, as though he were examining a cut of meat, "I trusted you. Trusted you! Ahh. What a disappointment."

"You fucking asshole, it's none of your goddamn business who I- f-fuck!" Another lash. Evidently, Scout was a slow learner when it came to this sort of thing, but Spy sensed he was beginning to get the message. A gloved hand grabbed his jaw, twisted his neck awkwardly.

"It is every bit my business, mon petit tapin," he whispered, "and I hope you're going to apologise. I'm deeply hurt." Oh, the irony.

Scout didn't want to risk any more injury than he already had, and with a hesitant stutter, "I-I'm sorry."

"I didn't hear that."

"I'm sorry!"

"Once more, for good measure?"

"You son of a bitch-nnghhahh!" A hand had gripped his backside, squeezing the sore and tender flesh, his finger digging in like talons. "Ah-hh! Ah, please! I'm sorry! Sh-shit, I'm sorry!" He'd discarded all pride and arrogance by this point, sobbing and panting and begging, nails digging into the meat of his palms.

Spy finally let go, dropping the rapier with a relieving clang onto the cold tiled floor. Scout reluctantly opened his eyes again, only to see him make his way to the door, not a glance back to him. "H-hey! Hey, where you goin'? Hey, fuck you! Fuckin' untie me!"

He didn't turn round, simply pulled out his keys, nonchalantly examining them, his back still to Scout. "I think, petit, you need some time to think about what you've done."

"Wh-what-"

"I won't be too long."

And the door slammed shut with a click of the lock.