Dark In My Imagination

There are times when Shadow is violently reminded that the blood flowing through his veins is in fact alien.

TAGs: Creator Choose not to use archive warnings, established relationship, dreams, dark desires, sadism, violence, domination, Shadow struggles with his alien side, character study, psychological, this is not a happy fic, this is a very dark fic, I am not kidding, do not read this unless you are ready for that, angst, so much angst, alcohol consumption

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from the Sonic the Hedgehog franchise.

AN: So, most of you're probably thinking along the lines of 'What is this and where's the next chapter for Deepest Desire'? Unfortunately, I haven't had the time to write that one yet and probably won't have for next month either. So, sorry but you'll have to wait a bit longer for that one. Though I assumed you'd appreciate having something else to read in the meantime so...have fun. ;)

Chapter 1: Surrender to Reason

"Just look at yourself." Shadow roughly grabs his captive's chin, tilting it up, easily overpowering the other when they try to resist the move.

How could he not when the other has not slept or eaten properly in days?

"You're so pitiful."

Green blood-shot eyes glare at him from the normally so cheerful-looking face that is now twisted in a pained grimace as his captive stubbornly tries not to let their pain be heard; even though it is obvious to the naked eye from their body-language, the lithe body leaning heavily for support against the stone wall.

"You still can give up, you know. You can submit and stop the pain," Shadow offers, watching as drops of blood dribble down from his captive's torn lip onto their already red-stained thigh before trickling down to the ground into the crimson puddle that has already formed there.

He looks up, brushing his thumb over the other's injury. His expression and tone remain impassive even when his captive hisses in pain and tries to recoil from the touch—unsuccessfully; he's holding on too tight. "Get a meal and your wounds treated."

For a long moment, the other only silently stares at him, eyes darting across his visage as if searching for something.

Then, when the other apparently finds it, their fawn lips pull into a smirk and the other lets out a hollow laugh.

"You'd like that wouldn't you?" His captive's voice is hoarse as they speak, their features twisting in pain briefly as even those few little word hurt their already abused throat—all the days without any water and hours of screaming in pain have left it raw and aching.

Green eyes open once more to meet Shadow's gaze. They are a bit glazed over because of the other's exhaustion but Shadow can see the fire of rebellion is still burning deep in their depths.

"N-no freaking way."

Shadow watches the other for a long moment, waiting to see if their determination will not falter. However, when that does not happen and the other only continues to stare at him with those rebellious eyes of theirs, he concludes the other's attitude is not just a false bravado.

Shadow snorts in amusement, feeling both exasperation and excitement at the knowledge his captive's spirit remains unbroken even after all this time.

He has chosen well.

A smirk spreads across his face.

"Have it your way then."

Before the other even can prepare for the blow, Shadow roughly grasps the other's head and forces his captive to bow down, the sudden move pulling on the other's stiff cold-stricken muscles, making them shout out in surprise and pain. "GAH!"

"I wonder," Shadow starts, shifting his hand to avoid injuring himself on the other's bristling quills that have raised themselves in response to their owner's sudden flare of pain, "how much I can push you before you fall apart."

He forces the other even lower until their nose is touching the ground, ignoring the pained yelp they give out.

"What is your breaking point?" he continues to wonder aloud, watching as slender arms shake in tension, metal hand-cuffs keeping them close to the wall and forcing them to stretch uncomfortably as their owner remains bowed forward, the rest of body soon starting to tremble too, the position uncomfortable even for someone as flexible as his captive is. "When will you give up?"

He shifts his grip and instead of forcing the other to remain down, he forces his captive to upright once again, hearing as the moment the spiky head collides with the wall with a thud once more—not with enough force to break open the skull, but enough to momentarily daze his captive.

"Will you ever beg me to stop?" Shadow's hands curls around the other's throat just as unfocused emerald gaze lands on him. First glimpse of realization and fear flickers in the green eyes and Shadow's mouth curls at the sight, a wave of excitement coursing through his being as he tightens his hold on the other's throat. "Or would you rather let me destroy you than let go of your pride?"

The peach mouth opens to hopelessly gape for air, the lithe body now thrashing in his hold, trying to escape the constant pressure on their trachea. However, Shadow holds on tight, not letting go until the very moment the other seems about to faint.

Coughs and gasps for air follow and Shadow only watches.

"I think I've been going too easy on you until now," he muses aloud. "I ought to do something more drastic," he continues as he once again grabs the other's head, twisting it to the side, another pained moan escaping the other before they can stop it.

Green eyes open to glare at him the moment they can.

"What do you think?"

Unsurprisingly, his captive remains stubbornly silent.

Shadow lets out an amused snort. "I thought so." He shifts his hold on the other's head, his touch almost caressing as he guides it to tilt up instead of forcing it, his thumb gently brushing over the other's jawline. The other's gaze flickers to his hand and then back to his face.

For the first time, green eyes stare at him with uncertainty.

Shadow feels something twist in his gut at the sight; but he quickly squashes the feeling, letting the wicked excitement fill its place once more as he tugs the other to his body and leans lower—closer.

Unease replaces the uncertainty in the green eyes.

The smell of fear fills the air.

"You know—" A feral smirk stretches across his lips. "—there's always been something much more satisfying about using my teeth to bring pain rather than my hands..."

And then he leans down, not taking notice of the ear-splitting cry of agony the other lets out as his teeth sink into the his captive's flesh, warm blood filling his mouth as he twists his head to the side and—

...

With a jerk, Shadow sits up, dread and horror brought on by his own actions flooding his system as the gruesome images linger before his mind's eye. However, it is soon after that he realizes that his hands are in fact holding onto nothing and that there is not even trace of the telltale metallic taste of blood on his tongue. The room also feels much warmer than the humid dungeon he had been in just moments ago.

What...? That... It takes him a moment to put the pieces together. ...That damned dream again... Tan lips twist into a scowl again and Shadow huffs as he lets himself fall backwards onto the cushions, rubbing his eyes tiredly, the horror of his imaginary-self's actions washing away and instead being replaced with frustration once again.

Angrily he throws away his bedding and gets up, heading straight for the bathroom like all the other nights before. The moment he sets a foot in the shower, he turns on the faucet to the coldest temperature possible, not even flinching when the icy cold water hits him with full force—he's done this too many times already for it to affect him anymore.

So many times...

Gritting his teeth in anger, he hits the wall in frustration, uncaring when the tiles crack under the force of the impact; he's too angry and tired to care for such an unimportant thing like the decor of his bathroom.

Growling in frustration, he hits the wall once more, not caring even if this time he actually shatters the tiles into pieces; not even though he cuts his hand on one of the sharper edges when he draws it back to his side.

It is a mere reflex that makes him glance at the injury. However, he regrets the action just a moment later when the sight of blood triggers the memory of his today dream—and the dozens that came before it, for once hating himself for having such a great memory.

He curses under his breath and does all in his power to push the images—and the emotions they bring—away.

He is in no way new to nightmares; for months after his release from the cryogenic chamber, he'd dream of Maria's death in vivid detail—night after night. He had hated witnessing Maria's death over and over again and it had felt incredibly liberating when those nightmares finally stopped.

But then...this dream has began.

The dream is not the same each time, but the most important elements remain constant—him, his prisoner and their...interaction.

Shadow feels disgust fill him at the mere thought of that.

Before he has never thought that he'd ever wish for the nightmare of Maria's death plaguing him each night to return, but it is a nightmare that he'd accept with open arms eagerly if it meant this one would stop.

This...this...this ugly mirror into his own abhorrent subconsciousness; the side of himself that the more he tries to turn a blind eye to, the more it seems to grow in strength.

Even right now he can feel it at the back of his mind. These thoughts...this wickedness...fighting to be heard, to be listened to, to be obeyed...

He shakes his head to chase away the feeling; to force it back from wherever it has emerged, not willing to give up control.

He glances over his shoulder at the hedgehog that is still soundly sleeping in their shared bed, the other completely oblivious to his inner turmoil and struggle—how Shadow preferred him to be.

No need for the hero to know that he is the main star of his twisted dreams—dreams that are getting more and more frequent, more and more vivid, intense and most of all...enjoyable.

Terrifyingly enjoyable.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he turns away from the other and sharply turns the faucet to its full power, letting the ice cold water seep into his fur, onto his heated skin, letting the freezing water drain all the warmth from his body until it shivers from the cold.

Only if he could so easily deprive himself of those dreams like he can deprive his body of its warmth...

Taking a deep breath, he leans against the damaged wall, determined to withstand the bite of cold on his already cold skin and the icy waterfall that is still drenching him from head to toe for as long as necessary for it to numb his body and rid him of the proof of his shameful enjoyment of his appalling dreams.

He clenches his fists and takes another deep breath, willing his blood to stop boiling, shouting at him...

Destroy enemy...

He shakes his head to chaste the invasive thought away, instinctively raising the mental walls he'd learned to build during the Black Arms' invasion when Black Doom would constantly try to use the Hive mind to force him into doing the overlord's bidding.

But how can a defense like that keep outside something that is attacking from the inside? From his very core?

When he was younger, he had always thought his desire for power and utter destruction of his enemies was a side-effect of his GUN training. He had been controlled and abused since his first days; it had been something he taught himself to silently endure as any resistance would mean his termination and a delay in Professor's search for a cure to Maria's illness—disobedient weapons were useless to the GUN, they had made that clear the moment his training started.

He isn't sure if it had taken days, weeks or months of training for him to start developing the desire to harm and control the scientists and GUN officers in the same way they abused him. He might have never acted on his desires in his days aboard ARK, but the yearning to control and the craving to hurt have always been at the back of his mind, over the time growing stronger until they became an integral part of his personality—a part he has always tried to hide from those he cares about.

After finding out about his true heritage, he, however, realized these desires are something that has always been a part of him and have been just woken up out of slumber—this wickedness has always been in him.

It is not something brought on by GUN; he has been a monster long before he first opened his eyes.

The desire to destroy, hurt, and dominate others are things that are encoded in the very DNA of Black Arms; the fact they have never been concerned with anything beside their own survival and shedding the blood of others has showed that—they are a war-seeking species first and foremost. He felt it for that very brief moment that Black Doom managed to link him to the Black Arms' Hive mind—this overwhelming self-centeredness and blood-thirst...

Of course, these traits are not exclusive to only Black Arms; some Mobians could easily match them in these aspects. Though what is unique to Mobians is the ability—the need—to care for someone beside themselves—the desire for companionship.

To the Black Arms' companionship is a foreign term—in mind, Black Arms are one. To them, every other species has always automatically been either an enemy or food; someone they should hurt or kill—and enjoy doing that.

The Black Arms' way and the Mobian way of life are just two distinct life philosophies that just don't match together; it is no surprise he has turned out as an bizarre amalgamation of the two.

Sighing, Shadow rubs his eyes tiredly. His whole body is already mostly numb from the cold water but he doesn't make a move to step out of the shower yet or at least close the water off.

There are very few things he has ever felt bad about—has been ashamed of. These desires are one of those few things, because no matter how much he tries, he keeps failing to fully...suppress them.

Until not so long, he and Sonic would brawl regularly; he had enjoyed those sessions greatly while they lasted—they allowed him to actually get violent with Sonic without having to worry about causing any bad blood between them—he'd always made sure to tone himself down, made sure to keep himself in check so he wouldn't hurt Sonic too much, but once...once he lost control and actually broke three of Sonic's ribs with a single blow.

What is even worse about it is how he felt during it.

The feeling of Sonic's bones breaking under his knuckles was just...thrilling. He didn't feel any regret about causing Sonic harm; he felt pleased with it.

Of course, when he came back to his sense and realized what he had done, he felt disgusted with himself—he still is—and thus he's since declined all of Sonic's request to brawl.

As expected, Sonic was confused by this sudden one-eighty and assured him he knew the last time was just an accident and that he was in no way mad at him—but Shadow still refused to spar with him as he didn't want to accidentally hurt Sonic more.

Unfortunately, not engaging in fight with Sonic is not enough to stop him from accidentally hurting the hero as there are other types of exertion during which one might get a bit carried away.

Unsurprisingly, they both like to participate in those too.

And, from time to time, Sonic decides that if he cannot bring Shadow to battlefield, he's gonna bring the battlefield to him.

It always happens after a fight with some of Dr. Eggman's weaker robots—an easy fight that leaves Sonic only with minor injuries but running high-on adrenaline, and thus craving more action. At these times, their fore-play is usually short-lived or filled with well-aimed verbal jabs that soon sends them tumbling onto a bed—or another appropriate surface—and performing to what other people would most likely look like a wrestling match—and for the most part really is.

Shadow is ashamed to admit that these times are what he enjoys the most.

It is not often that Sonic lets himself get manhandled in this way; however, every time he's sure to come out of it covered with lots of hickeys and bruises—as, under the onslaught of sensations and emotions, even Shadow, sometimes, unfortunately, loses the control of himself—or his strength—for a few moments.

He glances to his sleeping partner once more, one of such dark marks possible to be seen above the hero's collarbone—a mark that is a couple of days old already.

Sonic is able to handle a lot of pain—is used to it thanks to the years of fighting Eggman's robots—and is never mad about Shadow accidentally injuring him and usually just teases the agent about losing his composure when they're done.

The hero is completely oblivious to the war that is going on between Shadow's heart and instincts—a war Shadow is afraid his heart will lose one day.

Sighing, Shadow closes off the water and begins to towel his fur dry, ignoring the heavy feeling in his arm muscles as he forces them to work against the gravity and the shivering of his own body as his muscles desperately try to produce more heat and compensate for the loss of warmth the cold shower has caused.

Once sure his fur is dry enough, he throws the used towel over the side of the bathtub, uncaring if it actually lands there, and steps back into the dark bedroom. For a moment, he just stands at Sonic's side, watching the other sleep soundly, without any care in the world for the few short night hours.

Slowly, Shadow moves his hand to pet behind Sonic's ear—a spot he knows Sonic very much enjoys. The sleeping hero leans weakly into his touch just a moment later, a soft pleased sound escaping past the peach lips.

Shadow smiles mournfully; Sonic is a great person—kind, loyal, caring; the perfect combination of what one would wish in a partner and a friend.

And yet...deep down in Shadow, there is a loud voice that calls for the destruction of this amazing being.

Tan lips twist into a frown. There is no doubt that he does not deserve Sonic; he only keeps causing him pain. Sure, Sonic usually has fun during it, but that doesn't make it right in any way. There could be a time where he would simply lose control over himself completely and...and...

Shadow shakes his head to chase the thought away, pulling his hand back to his body and one dark ear flicking at the quiet whine Sonic gives in his sleep at the caress suddenly ceasing. The corners of Shadow's lips briefly lift up in amusement at the sound—of course, Sonic is going to complain about not being paid attention even in his sleep.

However, the amusement leaves Shadow's body with a sigh, the agent now staring at Sonic longingly.

He loves him. Oh, how he loves him. Adores him. But Sonic deserves better than him. Better than a twisted creation of a desperate genius...an abomination of science that deep down desires to see him broken.

Sonic deserves better.

Taking a deep breath to pull himself back together, Shadow leans down to briefly presses his lips against Sonic's, stealing for himself what he knows will be his last kiss with Sonic.

Three heartbeats pass and he can feel Sonic weakly try to kiss back in his sleep. However, Shadow pulls away at that very moment, his lips pulling into a thin line that hides the pained smile that wants to show instead.

It is only a few hours until the moment Sonic wakes up and he'll have to tell him that he wants to end their relationship, see how Sonic's face will make thousands of different emotions before settling on pained confusion and his mouth will open to let out a stream of questions; questions he won't be able to give truthful answers to if he doesn't want Sonic to see him as the monster he truly is.

Shadow straightens his back once more and with long strides and a heavy heart leaves the room, not daring to look back at what—who—he is walking from; he cannot allow himself any second-guessing.

After all, this is the only right thing to do.