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Title: Lungs
Character/Pairing: Theodore ‘T-Bag’ Bagwell
Prompt: 048. Punishment
Rating: R
Summary: “Someday I’m gonna strip all your skin off and see what it looks like inside…”
Author's Notes: I’m alive! Gasp! This is my first fic in… ages I think. Sorry. *Is Ashamed* I was uninspired and then in Barbados and such… but I have returned it would appear. And I have fic to make up for it. Art ‘verse fic! Taking place after Mutinies, a little of T-Bag and Loot. It's short and I don't particularly like it, but whatever. Rated for T-Bag describing a lot of gore and a bit of swearing I believe.
“Someday I’m gonna strip all your skin off and see what it looks like inside. Think you’d be pretty lookin’ in there, boy?” He asked Loot lazily, lying back and staring at the ceiling of the cell, his fingers gliding across the wall tracing the road to hell that he was on, first class. “I could peel it back an’ check out all them bones hidin’ just behind the surface. Count ‘em all. How many bones are there? Somebody told me once in science class, but I forgot.”
“Two hundred and six.” Loot supplied. He sounded more dead than ever since he’d been caught out in his little double-crossing plan. “In an adult human.”
T-Bag laughed and leaned over so he could look at Loot not looking at him. “Two hun’red an’ six? That’s nice. Ain’t it?” He lay back flat again, chuckling. “Lot o’ things you could do wit’ two hun’red an’ six bones, ain’t there, boy?”
Loot was silent. He’d been getting damn good at that lately.
“See, that’s how I’m gonna punish you. I’m gonna gut you. Gonna break your rib cage and use them little bones to carve your lungs out. What d’you think that’d look like? What’d it be like? Little sacks?” He sighed and tussled his hair a little, thinking of itty bitty Mona and Johnny and all their little parts he didn’t take long enough to study. “Never done that ‘fore. Would be damn fine though, huh? All that fine blood all over? Bottle it up and drink it.”
“You’re just gonna extend your sentence.” Loot’s voice was low and controlled like he was just trying his best to keep hold of himself. He kept getting closer to that breaking point since poor little Carly Brown turned up dead. Wonder why? “Killing me is just going to keep you in here longer. You’re what? Eighteen? Nineteen now? Do you really want to spend the rest of your life in here?”
This kind of hot patch rose up in the back of T-Bag’s throat and he wondered how long he’d have to hold tight to Loot’s pretty little neck before he suffocated. But he couldn’t because that was too easy. “Ain’t you the clever one?”
Loot just kept quiet and stared off into whatever there was to look at in a place like this.
“Tell you what, y’know, you’re right. I cut you up into all them tiny pieces, I’m just gonna end up in here for the rest o’ my life. An’ they sure wouldn’t want that, now would they?” T-Bag laughed and ran his hands over his face, his nails pulling at the skin just a little bit to make it sting. “I ain’t about to compromise my gettin’ outta here, boy, and you of all people should be fully aware of that.”
The sound of Loot shifting awkwardly on his bunk floated up and T-Bag couldn’t resist laughing at him. All anxious like that. It was always best then.
“But, I see no issue with takin’ a bit o’ an interest in when exactly you get outta here, boy.” He laughed some more because it was funny being on top of someone in this sort of way for once. Not getting beat up outside the school ‘cause he looked funny or smelled or any of that shit. Actually being in control. It was nice. “After all, now you got nothin’ worth gettin’ out for, do ya? Wife’s in the ground… put to ashes I s’pose’d be a better term.” He loved listening to Loot flinch. “Ain’t got no kids… I’d know if you did…”
Sometimes it was too easy. “Are you trying to scare me?” It would’ve been a hell of a lot more poignant if poor little Looty-boy’d been able to keep his voice from shivering like he was in pain already.
T-Bag couldn’t hold back the laugh. It shuddered around the cell like the condemning last rites. Our Father who art in heaven… All them old priest words coming back to haunt him here where they served no purpose. “Boy, I don’t have to try…”
The sound of breathing. In and out through pretty little lungs, just begging for him to come up and open up Loot’s skinny white chest to just breathe in those lungs and taste the air in them. See if the air there tasted like it did in him. Did different people have a different taste like they had a different look and a different smell? Different animals of the same species didn’t.
He licked his lips and pressed his hand flat on the wall, his voice falling low into the realm of absence and longing. “I don’t have to try to make you scared, boy, when you already are…”
All the breath going in and out like promises of worse things to come.
A laugh rose low in his throat and he succumbed to it, arching his back and feeling it ripple through him like everything. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so alive outside of prison walls. Something in her air he thought.
“You’re out of your fucking mind.” Loot grunted, getting up from his bunk and stumbling over to the far wall, trying to make it look like nothing but T-Bag saw through it to the bony core of what he was. That deep dark pit of unease. “Do you ever stop chattering?” Loot pushed his hands through his pretty hair, staring away through the bars. He’d be out in four weeks or so now. Or he wouldn’t be.
“Nope.” T-Bag replied when his head had stopped bubbling with all the laughter in the fucking world. There was so much to laugh at inside. Everyone was all the same there, and if they weren’t then the world was lying. “You ever stop rationalizin’ an’ shit?”
Loot curled a lip like he was king of the world. “God…” It seemed to be all he could manage and he stared away into the oblivion.
T-Bag laughed out in the silence, hopping down off the bunk to run the back of his thumb against all that soft skin around the throat where you could feel everything and still it was like numb. If he pierced the skin right there the blood would be all over the place. He could feel the pound of Loot’s heart and the pace of his breath, moving swiftly through him. Faster at the touch, whether or not he meant it the way it was taken. A soft chuckle, brushing against Loot’s jaw. “Watch your back boy… I’m always there right behind you and right in front of you an’ watchin’ you all around…”
Loot pulled away and T-Bag let him. Enjoy the freedom in their little cage.
Instead he stared out across at Roach, standing there staring back at him, and licked his lips at the figure there, full of himself and full of everything. Worms of ideas slipped through his mind and he sniggered, turning back and slipping back onto his bunk, letting the worms grow.
“What are you thinking about?” Loot asked after a second, his voice low and worrisome like he was questioning some kind of god. T-Bag liked that note in his voice. It’d be nice to hear it more often.
T-Bag laughed and looked down at him, standing there in the cell where he’d be for the rest of his life, and Loot would leave in time. “You know me better than that, don’t you, boy? Ain’t never thinkin’ in here.”
He lay back again, breathing deep and hard, letting the worms just get deeper.
Got me a plan boy.
He rolled on his side and let it fester in the back of his mind, a grin breaking his chapped lips as he traced the words on the wall in some foreign symbols no one but him could understand, that disappeared seconds after he saw them.
It was all a bit more secretive that way.
Character/Pairing: Theodore ‘T-Bag’ Bagwell
Prompt: 048. Punishment
Rating: R
Summary: “Someday I’m gonna strip all your skin off and see what it looks like inside…”
Author's Notes: I’m alive! Gasp! This is my first fic in… ages I think. Sorry. *Is Ashamed* I was uninspired and then in Barbados and such… but I have returned it would appear. And I have fic to make up for it. Art ‘verse fic! Taking place after Mutinies, a little of T-Bag and Loot. It's short and I don't particularly like it, but whatever. Rated for T-Bag describing a lot of gore and a bit of swearing I believe.
“Someday I’m gonna strip all your skin off and see what it looks like inside. Think you’d be pretty lookin’ in there, boy?” He asked Loot lazily, lying back and staring at the ceiling of the cell, his fingers gliding across the wall tracing the road to hell that he was on, first class. “I could peel it back an’ check out all them bones hidin’ just behind the surface. Count ‘em all. How many bones are there? Somebody told me once in science class, but I forgot.”
“Two hundred and six.” Loot supplied. He sounded more dead than ever since he’d been caught out in his little double-crossing plan. “In an adult human.”
T-Bag laughed and leaned over so he could look at Loot not looking at him. “Two hun’red an’ six? That’s nice. Ain’t it?” He lay back flat again, chuckling. “Lot o’ things you could do wit’ two hun’red an’ six bones, ain’t there, boy?”
Loot was silent. He’d been getting damn good at that lately.
“See, that’s how I’m gonna punish you. I’m gonna gut you. Gonna break your rib cage and use them little bones to carve your lungs out. What d’you think that’d look like? What’d it be like? Little sacks?” He sighed and tussled his hair a little, thinking of itty bitty Mona and Johnny and all their little parts he didn’t take long enough to study. “Never done that ‘fore. Would be damn fine though, huh? All that fine blood all over? Bottle it up and drink it.”
“You’re just gonna extend your sentence.” Loot’s voice was low and controlled like he was just trying his best to keep hold of himself. He kept getting closer to that breaking point since poor little Carly Brown turned up dead. Wonder why? “Killing me is just going to keep you in here longer. You’re what? Eighteen? Nineteen now? Do you really want to spend the rest of your life in here?”
This kind of hot patch rose up in the back of T-Bag’s throat and he wondered how long he’d have to hold tight to Loot’s pretty little neck before he suffocated. But he couldn’t because that was too easy. “Ain’t you the clever one?”
Loot just kept quiet and stared off into whatever there was to look at in a place like this.
“Tell you what, y’know, you’re right. I cut you up into all them tiny pieces, I’m just gonna end up in here for the rest o’ my life. An’ they sure wouldn’t want that, now would they?” T-Bag laughed and ran his hands over his face, his nails pulling at the skin just a little bit to make it sting. “I ain’t about to compromise my gettin’ outta here, boy, and you of all people should be fully aware of that.”
The sound of Loot shifting awkwardly on his bunk floated up and T-Bag couldn’t resist laughing at him. All anxious like that. It was always best then.
“But, I see no issue with takin’ a bit o’ an interest in when exactly you get outta here, boy.” He laughed some more because it was funny being on top of someone in this sort of way for once. Not getting beat up outside the school ‘cause he looked funny or smelled or any of that shit. Actually being in control. It was nice. “After all, now you got nothin’ worth gettin’ out for, do ya? Wife’s in the ground… put to ashes I s’pose’d be a better term.” He loved listening to Loot flinch. “Ain’t got no kids… I’d know if you did…”
Sometimes it was too easy. “Are you trying to scare me?” It would’ve been a hell of a lot more poignant if poor little Looty-boy’d been able to keep his voice from shivering like he was in pain already.
T-Bag couldn’t hold back the laugh. It shuddered around the cell like the condemning last rites. Our Father who art in heaven… All them old priest words coming back to haunt him here where they served no purpose. “Boy, I don’t have to try…”
The sound of breathing. In and out through pretty little lungs, just begging for him to come up and open up Loot’s skinny white chest to just breathe in those lungs and taste the air in them. See if the air there tasted like it did in him. Did different people have a different taste like they had a different look and a different smell? Different animals of the same species didn’t.
He licked his lips and pressed his hand flat on the wall, his voice falling low into the realm of absence and longing. “I don’t have to try to make you scared, boy, when you already are…”
All the breath going in and out like promises of worse things to come.
A laugh rose low in his throat and he succumbed to it, arching his back and feeling it ripple through him like everything. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so alive outside of prison walls. Something in her air he thought.
“You’re out of your fucking mind.” Loot grunted, getting up from his bunk and stumbling over to the far wall, trying to make it look like nothing but T-Bag saw through it to the bony core of what he was. That deep dark pit of unease. “Do you ever stop chattering?” Loot pushed his hands through his pretty hair, staring away through the bars. He’d be out in four weeks or so now. Or he wouldn’t be.
“Nope.” T-Bag replied when his head had stopped bubbling with all the laughter in the fucking world. There was so much to laugh at inside. Everyone was all the same there, and if they weren’t then the world was lying. “You ever stop rationalizin’ an’ shit?”
Loot curled a lip like he was king of the world. “God…” It seemed to be all he could manage and he stared away into the oblivion.
T-Bag laughed out in the silence, hopping down off the bunk to run the back of his thumb against all that soft skin around the throat where you could feel everything and still it was like numb. If he pierced the skin right there the blood would be all over the place. He could feel the pound of Loot’s heart and the pace of his breath, moving swiftly through him. Faster at the touch, whether or not he meant it the way it was taken. A soft chuckle, brushing against Loot’s jaw. “Watch your back boy… I’m always there right behind you and right in front of you an’ watchin’ you all around…”
Loot pulled away and T-Bag let him. Enjoy the freedom in their little cage.
Instead he stared out across at Roach, standing there staring back at him, and licked his lips at the figure there, full of himself and full of everything. Worms of ideas slipped through his mind and he sniggered, turning back and slipping back onto his bunk, letting the worms grow.
“What are you thinking about?” Loot asked after a second, his voice low and worrisome like he was questioning some kind of god. T-Bag liked that note in his voice. It’d be nice to hear it more often.
T-Bag laughed and looked down at him, standing there in the cell where he’d be for the rest of his life, and Loot would leave in time. “You know me better than that, don’t you, boy? Ain’t never thinkin’ in here.”
He lay back again, breathing deep and hard, letting the worms just get deeper.
Got me a plan boy.
He rolled on his side and let it fester in the back of his mind, a grin breaking his chapped lips as he traced the words on the wall in some foreign symbols no one but him could understand, that disappeared seconds after he saw them.
It was all a bit more secretive that way.