GET YOUR ROCKS OFF, BABY.

｡♥ FREAKY.

Static.
Nothing but static, static, static, filling up his brain, clouding his vision, forcing his lips to close into a straight line, enveloping every inch of his body from the tip of his toes to the top of his head. Screaming in his ear. Crying out to his bruised elbows and knees and his aching hands and wrists and his newly split lip and his ever-worn bones and his old soul.
Static there in the form of an elegantly gloved hand pressing against his arm and his face and it FEELS like too much, it feels venomous, it feels like there’s something IN HIS BLOODSTREAM that he simply can’t cut out, that he can’t be cured from – Frank’s voice, his words, his meaning, is IN HIS SKIN, and it feels like VIOLATION.
He’s hit. It feels like lightning. Falling on the ground is the sinister rumble of thunder rippling through his brain.
Aforementioned aching hands press against the ground, and soon it’s his forehead that’s on the ground as he’s attempting to twist away from the other’s looming figure, without much success – he’s like a STUBBORN CHILD refusing to meet the gaze of the accusing parent, only this time the consequences staring him in the face are much more apparent.
(He hates this part. He wished he had more STRENGTH to defend himself, even to SPEAK – to say OF COURSE I LOVE HER, SHE’S THE ONLY THING I’VE EVER LOVED, YOU COULD NEVER HAVE THE POWER TO TAKE HER AWAY FROM ME, SHE IS AS UNSHATTERABLE AS A DIAMOND, UNLIKE YOUR FRAGILE EGO, UNLIKE YOUR GLASS BONES; I BELONG TO NO ONE, I MADE MY OWN DESTINY, I PAVED MY OWN PATH, YOU ARE THE ONE WHO STOLE ME AWAY, YOU HAVE ALWAYS BEEN MY NIGHTMARE, YOU HAVE ALWAYS BEEN MY NIGHTMARE.)
(But lord, he was so tired. So sleep deprived. Overworked. Hurt. Angry. Upset. So many emotions and not at all. It was too much. Far too much happening all at once, inside and outside just one man.)
Instead, there he lies. Arms wrapped over his head. Face hidden in the tacky carpet, that of which is surely being dotted with the red from his lip. He’s as still and unmovable as steel. He does not greet Frank’s physical or verbal abuse with the groveling cries that Frank might desire; in fact, he does not even grant the prince a response at all.
He’s just lying there.

_{reptilian eyes burn invisible holes into the servant, && words, like FANGS dripping with poison, rip and tear at the man in frank’s grasp. now, he can CEASE ; now, he can set riff raff free – after all, this SUBMISSION had been his goal all along, hadn’t it ? but that agony, SWEET like the blood of virgins, glistening in the handyman’s eye calls the scientist’s name, tugs at his very soul. MORE, croons the devil in frank’s black heart. MORE, whispers his boiling blood.}

_{but those eyes, MISERABLE & PLEADING, are then hidden in the rough fabric of the carpet beneath them, and somehow their absence fans the FLAMES of the furter’s wrath. frank is silent as he rises, shadowed lids heavy, gazing upon the servant’s WILTED form. this is his rightful place. this is his only purpose.}

_{one diamanté HEEL is forced into the man’s back, an almost preparatory gesture before the prince draws back && KICKS, not only once and not only twice, but THREE TIMES does he strike. ‘ you are weak. ’ frank tells him, GRIMACING upon his helplessness. ‘ you are weak, GENERAL, weak ! oh, you sicken me. i should never have brought you along – you or your wretched sister. ’}

_{again he kicks, just once more. ‘ remember who your MASTER is, general riff raff. remember that you are here only to SERVE ME. ’ the prince turns, && heels click about the room, the same noisy shoes that had only just been BEATING & BRUISING the servant. sweating, mind buzzing from the ECSTASY of power, of dominion, the furter pours golden liquid into a chalice of pure transsexualian crystal. the glass is cold against his plump, painted lips, & with a glance back at the handyman, still ever so quiet, ever so motionless, the doctor SCOFFS.}