will be at a con (sort of) today so no warm-up, but ☝️ i do have more friend oc fic from a while back
"This is insane," Rudi mutters. His hand trembles where it hovers over Mars' abdomen, the scalpel mere millimeters from his skin. "You're insane."
Mars only smiles at him, a curl of his lips that—as usual—doesn't reach his eyes. "Time's ticking, Morris. Do you want to save me, or not?"
Rudi levels him with a flat look. Mars knows full well that he intends to kill him at the end of this—
But he also knows he can't, yet. For now, Rudi needs him alive—and that means playing along with Mars' stupid game.
"Better hurry," Mars taunts. "Who knows how long you have until the vial dissolves?"
The vial. The vial with poison that's somewhere in Mars' body. A poison that will kill him, if Rudi doesn't get it out in time.
It's tempting. A not insignificant part of Rudi wants to let this sick game run its course. He wants to let the vial dissolve, wants to watch as the poison spreads throughout Mars' body. He wants to watch it kill him.
It's a struggle to remind himself that Mars can't die yet. Rudi can't let him die yet. It would ruin everything.
And Mars knows that. That smile of his stays in place, smug and knowing. He meets Rudi's eyes, then looks meaningfully down at the scalpel hovering above his abdomen. A silent taunt, or a command.
Fine. Fine.
Rudi grits his teeth, tightens his grip on the scalpel, and makes the first incision.
Mars gasps when the scalpel starts slicing through his skin. It's too subdued of a response for somebody undergoing abdominal surgery without anesthesia, even if he is hooked up to a morphine drip. Mars' stomach is being sliced open. He should be in unimaginable pain. He should be screaming, thrashing, trying to get away—
But that gasp is the extent of his reaction. Other than that he stays quiet and perfectly still as Rudi continues cutting him open.
Rudi lifts the scalpel once the cut is long enough. A trembling breath tumbles from Mars' lips, colored with—something. Not pain. Rudi knows what pain sounds like, and this is… It's—
He looks at Mars' face. There's a flush high on his cheeks. His mouth is slightly open, lips shiny with spit. He's gazing down, though Rudi can't tell if he's looking at the scalpel in his hand or the long, deep cut on his abdomen. His pupils are blown wide, the gray of his irises just a thin ring.
Freak.
Rudi clenches his jaw and lowers his head, focusing his attention on the incision. He lifts the scalpel again to make two horizontal cuts at either end of the incision. When he's finished, his eyes flick up to Mars' face again without his consent.
His expression has shifted subtly, containing an edge of excitement.
Rudi sighs and sets the scalpel aside. "I haven't washed my hands," he points out. "You're going to get an infection."
Mars finally tears his gaze away from his stomach to meet Rudi's eyes. One corner of his lips curls up, his eyebrow twitching along with it. "Then it's lucky I have you there to nurse me back to health." His voice doesn't contain a single hint of irony. If anything, he sounds almost fond, like he actually thinks Rudi is looking out for him willingly.
Rudi's fingers twitch. He's glad he's no longer holding the scalpel; if he was, he might have plunged it into one of Mars' eyes, consequences be damned. As it is, he brings his hand to Mars' abdomen and digs his fingers into the edge of the incision. Blood instantly seeps from the wound, slick and hot; Rudi's fingers slip as he attempts to get a solid grip. It's a struggle, made all the more difficult by Mars gasping again, that same soft sound of not-pain.
After a few seconds of fumbling, Rudi finally manages to get hold of Mars' skin. There's a wet sucking sound as he peels it back. The inside of Mars' skin is pink and glistening with dark red blood. Rudi stares at it, a wave of nausea crashing through him. He swallows thickly, bites the inside of his cheek to ground himself and takes a deep breath—
—and gags at the smell in the air. Blood, metallic and sharp. Raw meat, too; it reminds Rudi of being in a butcher's shop, of getting served a rare steak with dinner. It's almost pleasant—which somehow makes it more disgusting.
Mars grunts, the first actual sound of pain Rudi has heard him make during all this. "You might want to get a move on," he says, voice tight. "I think I just felt something."
Rudi raises an eyebrow. "And you don't think that might be related to your skin being peeled back?"
Mars laughs, breathless. His stomach shakes with it; Rudi has to tighten his grip to keep hold of the flaps of skin. "Something inside."
Rudi's eyes move from the flaps of skin to the organs he's just laid bare. Another wave of nausea hits; this time he actually gags, worried for a moment he's going to throw up. He lets go of Mars' skin; the flaps fall back down, though they stay curled away enough that Rudi can still see the bloody mess of his insides, yellowish sacks of fat and dark red organs that almost seem to be pulsing—
He looks away, gagging again. His head swims, vision blurring. There's no way he can go through with this. This, finally, will be the game that breaks him. The game that Mars wins.
"Rudi." Mars' voice cuts through the ringing in his ears, sharp and sudden. "Look at me."
The previous tightness in his voice has disappeared. It's steady, commanding, and Rudi obeys in spite of himself.
Mars raises his hand, slow and deliberate. When he's sure Rudi is watching, he folds his thumb into his palm, then closes his fingers around it and squeezes. He nods at Rudi, a silent encouragement for him to do the same.
Rudi does, copying the motion. Miraculously, he stops gagging. The nausea is still there, but he no longer worries about throwing up.
He opens his mouth to thank Mars—then snaps it shut when he notices the smug smirk plastered on his face. No way he's feeding his ego even more.
Rudi stays like that, breathing deeply through his mouth until the nausea passes. Only then does he relax the grip he has on his thumb. He grabs one of the flaps of skin with his left hand, pulling it back until the wound is big enough for him to stick his right hand inside.
He moves quickly. If he waits, if he hesitates, there's a chance he'll chicken out again—so he doesn't. As soon as the wound is wide enough, he sticks his hand inside.
It's—warm. That's the first thing he notices; a warmth like a fever, like one of Adi's hugs. It's almost painful, how not wrong it feels—
Until Rudi finally becomes aware of the wetness, the squish of Mars' organs around him. He can feel his blood pumping through his veins, a thrumming against his own skin. It reminds him, undeniably, inescapably, that his hand is currently inside of Mars' abdomen.
Lastly, he notices the sound. Mars' heavy breathing, occasionally trembling with—
With a moan. There's no mistaking it, this time—the something Rudi noticed earlier is pleasure, no doubt about it.
"You're disgusting," he says, voice shaking with barely restrained rage.
Mars chuckles. Rudi can feel the vibrations, the way his insides shake with it; he wants to pull his hand out, but—
"But you'll do what I want anyway," Mars says. "You have to."
Rudi grits his teeth. He hates that Mars is right. No matter how much he wants to, he has to do this.
"Go on." Mars tilts his head, an amused tinge to his voice. "Have a look around. Or did you forget there's a purpose to all this?"
"I—" Rudi snaps his mouth shut, teeth clacking together hard. The more time he spends arguing with Mars, the longer he has to stay inside of him—and he'd like for that to be over as soon as possible.
He gets to work exploring, gently moving his hand through Mars' abdomen. It's disgusting, even more because Mars continues to moan softly while he works. At one point Rudi has to take another break, squeezing his thumb hard against his palm to keep from throwing up—but eventually he finds the vial nestled between the folds of Mars' intestines.
As soon as his fingers close around it, Rudi pulls his hand out. He stands up fast enough to get a little dizzy, the vials clenched tight in his hand—then whirls around and throws it hard against the wall.
The vial—what remains of it, at least—shatters, the bright yellow poison inside splattering against the plaster. Rudi stares at it, unblinking, until his vision starts to blur. His chest heaves with his breaths, harsh like he just ran a marathon.
"Congratulations," Mars says. "You win. Although you should probably sew this wound closed, if you don't want your hard work to be for nothing."
Rudi snaps his head over to glare at him. Mars just smiles in response—and for once, for just a second, it almost seems to reach his eyes.
Fucking freak. Rudi growls, hands balling into fists as he works to fight down the instinct to just leave the bastard like this—and once he manages, stalks over to the first aid kit that contains the sutures he'll need to stitch Mars' wound closed.
