Marcus and the Mirror (Fanfiction)

“Why the fuck do you think I’d get off looking at myself,” Marcus snarled, as Theodore stood behind him, forcing him to look at his reflection. “I’m not a narcissistic dick.” He’d tried to struggle, but Theodore was much taller and stronger than he was and it was much easier to just do as he was told. Sort of. He tried but it just made him so angry.

“Marcus, when you calm down, you’ll enjoy this. I just want you to see how beautiful you are,” Theodore didn’t get angry, his voice still gentle.  No matter what Marcus did he only seemed to elicit mild irritation at best.

“This is fucking creepy, you know.”

“Language, Marcus.”

“Fuck you. You’re going to rape me and you’re worried about my language.”

“If you don’t watch your tongue, I’m going to have to get the gag and you won’t like that at all,” Theodore said.  

Marcus glared angrily at his reflection but did shut up.

“There’s a good boy. You’re so sweet when you do as you’re told. I promise you’ll like this. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Marcus kept scowling when Theodore touched him. He could only tolerate it for a moment.

“I hate this. I hate you.”

“Don’t be silly, your body seems to be liking it a lot. Just look at yourself, how beautiful you are, how flushed your cheeks are, how much you want it…”

“Fuck this!” Marcus forced all his weight backwards onto Theodore, taking the man by surprise, at the same time he kicked out, both feet aimed at the mirror. There was a loud CRASH! as it toppled to the ground, and Marcus with it. Pain, and so much blood, and the guards ran in and everything spun and Theodore was still speaking and Marcus was on the floor, surrounded by glass, and blood and the worst thing was it didn’t make the slightest bit of difference.

Marcus’ feet were cleaned and bandaged, as were his hands. He couldn’t even remember slicing them up as he had scrabbled amongst the broken shards.  And all that moment of fury meant was he was stuck in bed, forced to listen to Theodore’s oh so patient voice, filled with gentle concern. He was always so nice, and Marcus had been convinced he’d be beaten, or given away only neither of those things had happened. Instead he’d just to listen, and lie in Theodore’s own bed, and be pampered and taken care.  It was Theodore himself that hand-fed him his meals, and raised the cup so he could drink, even though he could have done that even with bandaged hands. And the only saving grace was that the replacement mirror hadn’t arrived by the time Theodore took him for the first time.