Captive

Beta by TrendyLindie ^_^


The snap of the cuff had a sense of finality to it that shook Zim to the core, and he couldn't help the momentary tense, testing to see if they had any give. They didn't.

"It's alright, Zim." Warm human lips pressed briefly at his wrist. His hands were already bare; it had been decided that the gloves would cause too much trouble. Then Dib checked the cuff once more, making sure it was tight enough to prevent chafing without causing pain.

"Easy to say when you're not the one being strapped down, monkey-pig." Red eyed narrowed, but Zim didn't try to fight the cuffs on his wrists.

This table was special and had been somewhat difficult to get, but being the son of the famous Professor Membrane had a few perks. The surface of it had a curved depression, just right for an Irken pak to fit snugly in. The metal was reinforced, preventing anything from emerging from the pak; it was the least invasive way Dib knew to neutralize it.

A strap went across Zim's chest, holding his back flush against the table, even as Dib pressed more kisses against the soft skin of Zim's neck, working his way up until he could capture the Irken's lips. That finally elicited a positive reaction, long, snakelike tongue pushing past his lips, pressing and teasing. He let himself be lost in the kiss for a while, a low moan building in his throat and his eyes slipping closed. It was the twitch of almost-smirking lips against his that brought him back to himself, realizing how easily he'd gotten sidetracked.

"Nice try." Dib ignored the frustrated sputters as he used his teeth to rip the ducktape and press it firmly in place. It was a little crude, but it would work.

Dib stood back a little to admire his handiwork. Zim was completely immobilized, all defenses gone, and completely at his mercy. He looked absolutely beautiful.

"I'm not going to hurt you." He reached out to lay his hand on Zim's chest, over his heart. He could feel the rabid beat against his palm, and the slight trembling of the other's frame. Slight guilt at his actions still gnawed at the pit of his stomach, but it was easy to ignore with the sudden intoxicating rush that he was the one in control here.

They both needed this - it had lingered between them for far too long, a sore spot avoided by mutual agreement. Years of threats didn't just vanish overnight. Though the hate behind all the words was long gone, the words themselves still lingered, faintly echoing all that they did. For so long Dib's life had revolved around capturing Zim, exposing him, hurting him.

Long after the physical wounds healed, the mental ones festered. It was unspoken that Dib was always the one to put his life in Zim's strange clawed hands. When they lay exhausted, limbs tangled and skin damp, it would only take a single thought for one of those spiderlegs to emerge to sever arteries and crush bone. It was in Dib's nature to throw himself into his beliefs without hesitation. He knew ghosts lurked in old buildings, he knew Bigfoot roamed deep forests, and he knew Zim wouldn't hurt him then.

Zim had no such beliefs to hold onto. He wasn't supposed to trust. He wasn't supposed to do a lot of things, but somehow trying to compare quitting a lousy fry job to learning to trust a human just didn't quite work out.

Please Dib had asked, begged, whispered. Had stroked hands over smooth green skin, traced his tongue over quivering antenna. Please, let me. He had sprawled helpless under Zim's claws and teeth and let him taste the pulse in his throat and finally the Irken had agreed.

Now Zim was the one to tremble as Dib lifted up the blunt ended scissors.

"I used to dream about this, when I was much younger. It was perfectly innocent back then, though. I found it perfectly normal to think about strapping you down to a table and taking your clothes off." Dib snipped at the slick fabric as he talked, watching each inch of green skin as it was revealed. He resisted the urge to lean in and taste it.

"I'm not sure if I could have gone through with it then. I was just a kid, after all. Sure, sometimes I wanted to rip you apart with my bare hands after some of the things you did, but pure blind rage is a lot different from cold, calculated destruction." He cut up to the strap that held Zim down, then set the scissors aside and gave into the urge to touch, tracing a fingertip up where the long abdominal cut would have been made. "I thought about it a lot though, cutting you open and spilling your guts so I could rub them in the faces of everyone who mocked me. I hated you when you wouldn't let me."

He kissed right where the navel would be, if Zim had ever had an umbilical cord to cut. Everything was out in the open, raw and painfully honest. Slapping a band aid on it wouldn't work, one little piece of colorful plastic and gauze over the wound he had made was just a mockery.

"It took me a while to realize that it didn't matter. I still didn't want you destroying humanity, but I couldn't blame you for its behavior. I could either care about what I thought and nothing about them, or I could change myself to make everyone else happy. Gaz always did say I was selfish." He slowly unfastened the black pants, tugging them down tenderly. "You were still in my head though, under my skin. I still thought about catching you, only I'd keep you all to myself."

With the pants pulled down as far as the ankle cuffs would allow, Dib stroked his hands up Zim's legs, fingertips pressing lightly at his hips to feel the bone under the skin, a reminder of the similarities they had, in the face of all the differences.

"Then I realized I'd never have you that way. I might have a captive alien body, but not you. Not Zim." Even as his thumbs stroked soothing circles over Zim's hips, he leaned in to slowly lick up the sheath that held his member. It really made more sense to keep things inside until you were ready to use them. Dib smiled as he felt the flesh twitch in response, and kept up the slow licking, pausing to suck lightly right at the base of the sheath. He could hear Zim's muffled moan and took it as encouragement.

He wanted to speak, but couldn't, not without stopping what he was currently doing. He wanted to make sure Zim knew how much he loved this. He loved exploring and mapping and memorizing every bit of him with lips and tongue, and hearing the sounds Zim made, moaning and screaming and yelling things that made even less sense than his most worked up rantings. It made him regret the tape, but he couldn't let Zim distract him. He would say something, Dib would argue, and then they'd be yelling about who-knows-what while the sore spot was left alone once more to fester.

Dib stroked the fully exposed organ from root to crown before letting the head slip past his lips to suck firmly, tongue seeking out the nerve cluster under the second ridge. The slightest touch had Zim's hips bucking up and trying to shove the rest of the length down Dib's throat, obviously frustrated with the restriction of his movements. He rode the movements easily, eyes closed so for just a moment he could pretend he wasn't hunched over a hard metal table trying to prove something; instead he could be half in Zim's lap, the Irken's hand fisted in his hair, threatening to yank out his scythelock and promising certain doom should he dare stop.

The ducktape could stop Zim from making any intelligent sounds, but it couldn't do much more than muffle the scream that resulted as Dib fought to swallow around the sudden flood that washed over the back of his throat. He pulled back to catch his breath, peppering Zim's hips with sticky kisses.

"I knew I'd never capture you. The only way I could hope to have you is to let myself get caught and hope you kept me." Dib's voice was a little rough, his jaw a little sore, but he hoped it was worth it. He started with the leg cuffs, then the chest strap. Finally each wrist cuff was removed, the skin underneath gently massaged to check for bruising. Zim lay fairly passive, still caught up in the post orgasmic rush, until Dib got the gel, working it under the strip of ducktape to dissolve the adhesive before pulling it off.

Then he laid his head down on Zim's chest and waited for judgment.

It was probably best for Dib's nerves that judgment wasn't long in coming. Clawed fingers stroked through his scythelock with a certain amount of tenderness.

"You're a filthy, moronic, loud, infuriating, demanding, horrible, funny looking pig-monkey, and you have a freakishly large head." The handful of hair was tugged lightly. "But you belong to ZIM."

Dib smiled.