Drabble: Catching His Breath

Raphael's POV

It's funny. Now that I watch him all the time, I see things that I didn't before. He's exhausted--from being so high strung, I think. He keeps himself under such tight control that the stress is tearing him apart. He even controls how he breathes, a steady rhythm even when he's fighting. Sometimes I'm surprised he didn't fall apart before I started this. Whatever this is.

It started out as a control thing. I was sick of him always calling the shots, always telling me how far we could go in a fight. Just once I wanted to control him, tell him how far it would go. It was just about control. And it felt good to pin him down and control everything he did. Better than even I expected.

He gave up utterly to me, and it only tasted better because I defeated him.

But I won't hurt him. I won't. I want him to fall to pieces in my hands. I want him to wince and whimper and struggle not to make a sound when I touch him. I want him to let me use him.

I mean it when I say I won't hurt him. I can't hurt him. I won't. I don't know if the others have noticed, but I don't snap at him like I used to. He's been acting like he could fall apart any minute now, and I don't want to break him by saying the wrong thing. No, breaking him's gotta be deliberate. Methodical. Too fast and he'll pull away in fear. Too slow, he'll take it as weakness and push me away.

When I break him down, when I touch him, it's when we're alone. That's for me, no one else. I want him around me, losing to me, unraveling in my hands, giving himself up to my control.

Press his wrist to the ground hard enough to bruise, and his control cracks. Straddle his waist, dig my knees into his sides, suddenly he can't breathe right anymore. The rhythm falters. Pull his mask back to expose his throat. The rhythm completely falls apart. His breath turns ragged.

I love biting him. I'd draw blood if I could. I think he'd let me. I swallow reflexively with the rush that thought gives me. I think he'd let me do anything to him when he's lost like this. I'm the only one who's ever done this to him. I'm the only one who could. When I force his head back even farther, so much that I hear him wince in pain, I know I'm the only reason he can let go even this much.

When I whisper I won't hurt him, his breath catches. Then I bite, and the shock gives him permission to breathe out again.