Page 33 of He Who Sleeps

"Good. Because if one of us has to come to the hospital because you're septic, you don't wanna know the kind of punishments we'll rain down on you," he told her. She was about to say something else when there was a knock on the door and Plague slipped in, without waiting for an answer. "Right on time," Stitches said, setting down his pen. "I just finished marking her up."

"Nice. Although if I'd been here earlier, I could have photographed the blank canvas without the marks."

"Not my problem, dude." Stitches shrugged. "I told you what time she'd be here. Just do your thing while I do mine." Plague lifted his camera and snapped some shots of her back as Stitches reached for the first needle, peeling open the packet with a small plasticky crinkle. "You ready?" he asked her.

“Yes.” Closing her eyes, she waited, wondering about Plague. How would he react to all of this, to her being so accepting, so familiar with Stitches...and what would it mean for them?

"So how did it go with Snake?" Stitches asked as he pinched a section of skin and slid the needle through it.

She breathed out, the slight pain of the pinch sending heat through her body. “I... I think it went well. He...we need to work some things out,” she said finally. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Stitches; she just felt that what had happened with Snake was between them, and she didn’t know if Snake would be okay with talking about what happened to them.

To her surprise, he blew out a sigh of relief and she could see Plague giving a small nod. "Well that's good," he said, placing the next needle opposite the first. "Working stuff out means he's open to it. Did any of the others tell you that we talked about petitioning the Elders?"

“Snake mentioned it. Which is why he wants to work things out,” she offered and winced slightly. “Ghost...” she smiled. “He didn’t say much, but then he never does. Not even after...” she shook her head. “Well, he didn’t say much after I got to look him in the eye.” She looked to Plague, to see how he would take that information.

"And Devil?" Stitches slid another needle home. "We told him about your little mask-pulling stunt, by the way. Neon and I. He knows you've seen our faces." Plague didn't say anything, moving silently around the room, the only sound he made being the shutter on his camera.

She giggled. “Any time with Devil is worship. He fucked me over his altar, making me wear his mask, then let me see him.” She smiled as she closed her eyes and felt another shard of metal slide through her skin.

"I thought he might do something like that." He sat back to study his work for a second before reaching for the next needle. "You need a break?" he asked as he pinched her skin again. "We're about a quarter of the way through."

“No.” Gods, it felt like foreplay to her, and she knew without a doubt that she would never feel like that about this with anyone else. Not Ghost, or Snake or Goblin... Just Stitches. It was just for them...a man that understood something about this she didn’t. She was safe with him, at least in this, and it was heady to know.

"That's my girl." He sounded smug, pinching another piece of skin and sliding the needle through. Plague ghosted around them, taking dozens of photographs from every angle, while Stitches worked methodically from her upper back down toward her pelvis, the needles getting closer together the lower he worked. The sharp scratches and the adrenaline were buzzing in her blood, filling her with endorphins to the point she felt almost high.

"Done," he said finally. "You were such a good girl, I'll let you choose the ribbon." From the second tray down on his little rolling table cart, he pulled out a wooden box and moved around to stand in front of her. Cracking it open, he displayed neatly rolled balls of satin ribbon in every color of the rainbow.

She looked them over, choosing a sheer and velvet in black, and looked to him. “Can I choose two?”

"If you want. It'll hurt more," he warned. "The lacing with two is more complex."

She considered it. “The pain isn’t the worry,” she said finally. “I just thought if there are pictures, I wanted them to be something special. Since this would be a first.” Not only, first.

She also knew that Plague liked to shoot in black and white. He'd mentioned it to her once. It made capturing photos of flames a challenge and a wonder. The black ribbon would stand out starkly against her skin.

"It'll look spectacular," Stitches assured her. "Maybe Plague will even give you one of the pictures."

"Maybe," Plague said, still distant as he snapped photos. He had to have taken hundreds just in the short time Stitches had been working. She'd love to know more about his process and how he chose which ones to print, but that was probably a thing to ask during her session with him, instead of taking up Stitches' time.

"You ready?" Stitches was again sat behind her, waiting for her consent to go ahead and lace her up.

She nodded and turned her head, seeing him out of the corner of her eye. “You ready to finish this?” After it was done, he was going to be ravenous for her and she was already ready for him.

"I was born ready," he chuckled and set to work. This time he worked in silence, concentrating on what he was doing.

She hissed, the threading nothing, but the pulling...it tugged on her and while it felt good, there was that burn she wasn’t sure she enjoyed.

"You okay?" Stitches paused. "The first ribbon is on. You can take a break if you need to."

She shook her head and gasped, her body thrumming, nipples peaked and rubbing on the leather of the chair. “I’m pretty sure I’m ruining the seat...”

"It'll clean." He sounded amused as fuck and even Plague chuckled. "Cream away, Sweet Cheeks. Just keep still so I don't tear one of these out by accident."

“It’s the tugging that’s making me squirm, and not because I’m in pain,” she gasped. “Fuck...”

"You still have to sit still, my sweet little pain slut." He pressed a quick kiss to her spine between her shoulder blades. "Get your shit together."

The contact had her focusing, all movements ceasing. His lips left a burn on her skin, beautiful and throbbing, almost as much as her back. A steadying breath had her nodding to Stitches to proceed.

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