Infusion|| Emerie/Hemlock one-shot
Description: Emerie wants to learn more about torture methods and asks for a hands-on lesson.
This one-shot is not technically nsfw, but I will include a content warning for: + needles + IV + other medical references
I don't know if there's a term for "consensual torture", but it's pretty much that.
Emerie didn’t know what to expect; she wondered if she had made a mistake asking for this, but she didn’t want to back out now. As far as she knew, the anticipation was part of the experience, and in any case, it was something different from the scheduled monotony of her day to day. Still, she couldn’t fight back the anxiety creeping up on her. She was visibly tense and shaking slightly, hardly a surprise, given her attire. Despite the room’s frigid temperature, all she had on was the sleeveless undershirt and shorts that typically served as her underwear.
The temperature of the room somewhat complicated the otherwise simple procedure of placing an intravenous line in her arm. It took a slow couple of minutes of Hemlock’s fingers attentively searching the soft underside of her arm for a decent vein before he finally found one he had confidence in. Emerie winced as his needle sank into her flesh, but she knew that minor sting was nothing compared to what was coming. She turned her head to watch him clamp the tube and move on to prepare the syringe, moving as though the whole process came to him as naturally as breathing. In a way, it felt reassuring to know that she was in experienced hands, but it also led her to wonder how many times he had done this. This exact thing, she thought, probably never.
When he set the large syringe down on a sterile tray beside the table she was laid out on, she let her gaze linger over it. The fluid inside had no color or viscosity that she could easily detect; for all she knew, it could have been anything.
“Whenever you want it to stop…” He reminded her, pushing a plastic bulb into her open hand. Her fingers curled loosely around it and her thumb toyed with the cord it was attached to in an attempt to seem unbothered. Hemlock moved around her to secure the restraints around her limbs. As each was pulled tight, her grip on the bulb in her hand became more rigid. He paused beside her head and repeated what he’d told her before they had begun, “You don’t have to do this. If you back out now, I won’t think any less of you.”
“It was my idea.” She answered evenly. It was an idea she wanted to see through, not only as an act of stubbornness, but as an educational experience. She had been given brief lessons on methods of enhanced interrogation, but had no first-hand experience with it. If it was something she may be expected to assist with, she reasoned, she should have some understanding of what it felt like. Stubbornness had only become a factor over time, after Hemlock had initially dismissed the idea. Now she had to do it. If he didn’t think less of her, she would think less of herself if she gave up now. She wanted to do it. It wasn’t for him, it was for her.
He didn’t make any further attempt to dissuade her, simply secured the final restraint and moved on to make the injection. From the corner of her eye, she saw him deliver a few sharp snaps to the side of the syringe and saw a shimmering drop of liquid well up and spill out of the needle hub as he held it at the ready. She heard him unclamp the tube and briefly detected the flush of saline in her throat.
“I’m going to go slow.” He told her as he fitted the syringe into the access port. Slowly, he depressed the plunger, sending half of the solution into her already tense body.
Emerie didn’t have to wait long to feel the effect. It began as a stinging sensation at the infusion site. Before she had time to register the initial burn, it had shot up her arm and was overtaking her entire body, searing its way down towards her core. Her lips parted to gasp for air and the sound that escaped her was a strained cry of shock; she had somehow believed that the pain would come on gradually, not all at once like a bolt to the chest. She fought to regain her composure, if only she could breathe then maybe she could steady herself. As she exhaled in a series of short, heaving breaths, she was acutely aware of the serum sizzling in her veins like battery acid.
Amidst the blinding pain, she felt something warm press against her wrist and looked to see Hemlock checking her pulse, seemingly untroubled by her initial reaction. The contrast between the waves of pain traveling through her body and the soft, albeit impersonal, human touch was confusing in a way she couldn’t quite put her finger on. The confusion itself intrigued her and pushed her to keep going. Struggling to take in another breath, she did her best to flex her hand toward the half-filled syringe.
“More…” She gasped out. Even through her strained and blurry vision, she spotted a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips as Hemlock turned back to the syringe and unclamped the tube once again. His gaze lifted to watch her intently as he, very slowly, depressed the plunger all the way.
Although Emerie had believed that the second round would be easier, she was once again shocked by the white-hot pain that rocketed through her body. This time, she didn’t even try to disguise her reaction, groaning through gritted teeth and pulling against the restraints as her body tried to thrash and twist away from the unseen source of its distress. She tried to pull in another breath, but each of her lungs felt as though it was held in a vise. Her chest barely hitched with a shallow gasp, followed by another and another as she tried to drink in as much oxygen as her panicked body would allow. She began to feel lightheaded, even as thousands of electrified needles stabbed at her nerves, and she could feel something effervescing at the edges of her consciousness, something she couldn’t identify that sparked as intensely as the pain surrounding her.
Her hands, still bound at her sides, flexed and gripped the edges of the table as she managed to pull in a deep, shaking breath. The plastic bulb rolled off the table and dangled limp from its cord as she exhaled in a breathy wail, weak enough to almost be a sigh. Hemlock took this as a signal that she’d had enough and detached the syringe, wiping the port clean before flushing it again.
“It will be over soon,” He assured her, disposing of the empty syringe. “Give it a moment to clear your system. Talk to me when you’re able to.”
Gradually, Emerie felt the pain begin to subside; as it faded, it left behind it a pleasant feeling that she had only felt in passing a few times before. Not a feeling of pleasure, but the relief that comes with the sudden absence of pain. Breaths began to come more readily as her body relaxed, and she savored the ease with which she filled her lungs. Her momentary bliss was disrupted when she felt something warm roll down her neck.
“Am I bleeding…” She muttered, her voice coming out hoarser than she had expected. Hemlock stepped closer and examined her, undoing the restraint that held her head down and turning her face from one side to the other.
“Sweating.” He corrected her, this time doing a slightly better job at hiding his smirk, although she still spotted it. He set to work on releasing the rest of her restraints. Puzzled, she lifted her now free hand to her face and wiped the moisture away from her skin. It was indeed sweat.
“But it’s freezing in here…” She pointed out, still staring at her hand. “Isn’t it…? ‘M shaking…”
“I can see that. Here,” He returned to her side with a towel, which he used to lightly dab at her brow before handing it to her so he could take her arm and ease her off of the table and onto her wobbly legs. “I’d like to hear what your findings are.”
They were sitting side by side on her bunk. Emerie had a blanket wrapped around her and a cup of juice held in both hands. She was still shaking, but her voice had returned and now she was describing her experience with exuberant fascination.
“I thought if I could just keep pushing through, eventually it would get easier…more manageable, at least, but it never did, it just kept going on and on and on and-”
“Careful.” Hemlock warned her gently, supporting her hands with his before she had a chance to spill her drink all over both of them.
“-and on…Yes, thank you.” She smiled sheepishly and took a sip of the electrolyte drink. It tasted like artificial fruit with an underlying saltiness that would be immediately recognizable to anyone who had ever consumed potassium powder. “How long was it, altogether?”
“From the first injection, nearly five minutes.”
“Only five??” She nearly choked on the bright orange liquid and hurried to cover her mouth with the back of her hand.
“Nearly five.” He corrected her. “It’s still very impressive. And you didn’t even confess to anything, so I’d say you held up well. Or well enough for nearly five minutes’ worth. At a low dose.”
“I don’t have anything worth confessing…” She said with a weak little laugh, dipping her head to hide the warm bloom of pink that crossed her cheeks as she said it.
“Not everyone does. Most will come up with something, though.”
“Well,” Emerie lifted her head and sat up straighter, taking on a more academic tone. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.” Hemlock’s brow raised in what seemed to her to be genuine surprise.
“‘Next time’? I think once is enough.”
Emerie deflated a little bit; she was confident she could do better if she tried again. Of course, the experience itself had been excruciating, but she felt there was still so much she could learn, about the process and about herself, given enough time. Besides, the way she felt now, radiant and weightless, somehow sparkling in spite of her messy hair and threadbare blanket and the bruise developing in the crook of her left arm, made the pain worth it.
“But I’m sure I could hold on longer next time,” She insisted, clutching her cup tightly in both hands. “You could even increase the dosage or…I don’t know…what about gradually increasing levels of intensity? I think that could be interesting.”
“It could be very interesting.” He agreed, slowly nodding along to her suggestions. “But not tested on you.”
“Why not on me? You test on yourself all the time.” She tried to look resolute, but with her blanket cloak and her cup of juice she ended up looking adorably pitiful. Hemlock exhaled an amused scoff and brushed a few limp auburn strands off of her forehead.
“There are some things you shouldn’t get used to.” He told her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her affectionately to his side. He pressed a kiss to her temple and mumbled. “We really should wash your hair, though.” She laughed and playfully kicked at him as he stood and offered his hands to help her up. Although the conversation was seemingly settled, she couldn’t resist one final retort as she leaned against his side on the way to the refresher.
“Next time I’ll make it to six.”
