Colour

When I look at a theater

I see what some others do not

I don't see just an empty stage

With curtains, drapes, and equipment

And I don't just see a black box

With chairs arranged so neatly in a row

Or an open field

With green grass as the seating

I see an empty canvas

For pictures being painted upon the stage

The light bathing it

The set as the canvas

And people as the palettes of color

Painting out the story

Imagination is flowing forth

As the story swells and rises

The colors and strokes morph and change

To make the story clearer

Not one color

Can paint a pretty scene

On an empty stage

Multitudes are required

To evoke the feelings of

Sadness

Pain

Love

Happiness

And anger

For the canvas

Cannot rely

On one color alone.

Where there is light

There is dark

Where light is shone

A shadow is cast

And where there are people

To watch

And interpret

The story

Then all is right with the world

All the world is a stage

But the stage always needs

Colour

Scream and Shout, Let it Out: Part One

In terms of it being a high security facility, Doctor Bates did not expect it to hold highly unstable figures. As a guard led him down the bleak stone corridors, lined with mangy cells, some empty, and some filled with individuals in strait jackets, or muzzles in some cases, or some just in rags. But as he passed each cell, the eyes followed him, like those of a portrait in an old mansion. He came into view and immediately the individual in the cell raised their head, stopped their nervous ticks or brooding and stared. Their eyes bore into him. He was a stranger to them. Someone new. Fresh meat. But Dr. Bates had no fear of these people. He'd spent years studying extreme cases of psychological problems in experiments, not that he condoned the practice of human experimentation, but felt that studying it would give him a way to help. He even glanced to the individuals as he passed their cells. Once he was out of view many of the patients in the cages crept up to the iron bars and tried to stare after him. He glanced back, a small warm smile on his face before he was lead through a steel door to another part of the facility. They watched as the door shut then slunk back into their respective corners or chairs.

"This part of the facility holds the more docile of the patients, they are still highly unstable but none of them are animals like those in the dungeon." The guard explained as they passed by steel doors with small windows. Dr. Bates merely nodded slowly as his lips tightened into a line at the comment.

No human being was an animal. And being treated as such was a crime against humanity. At least in Bates' mind that was how it went. But he never let it show. He remained silent as he was lead down to a cell at the very end. The guard took a step to the side, standing rigid as if he was anxious about something. Bates glanced to him raising a brow.

"Anxious there Private Donaldson?" He inquired. The soldier swallowed but shook his head. The swallow gave away everything Bates needed to know. He made no further comment as the door was unlocked for him and he stepped inside.

In the corner was huddled a man, a young looking man, with shorter messy dark brown hair, his grey eyes glancing out of the window as his arms were protectively circled around a young brunette female who clung to him as if he were a life raft. Judging by the redness of her nose and the puffiness under her eyes the young lady had been crying. There were bruises on both of their arms, near the crooks of their elbows. The bruises seemed to not bother the man but they seemed to cause the female pain.

"She is going through withdrawals." Muttered the man as he glanced to the female in his arms. There was a very neutral tone to his voice, something he probably practiced.

"And judging by the way you are holding her, she is special to you."

Grey eyes, like those of an overcast day, shot over to Dr. Bates. His face held no emotion whatsoever but everything in those eyes told Bates what he needed to know.

"Sister I'm guessing." Bates commented. He caught the very brief expression of surprise on the man's face and smiled a little at him. No one had been able to guess that the two were related up until now. The woman flinched, her nails digging into the patient's skin and she cried out.

"It burns!" She exclaimed as she clawed at his bare arm, leaving red marks in her wake. He in turn tightened his hold on her a hand going to her tangled brown locks and stroking them whispering to her:
            "Scream, shout, let it out." He repeated in a slow monotonous pattern. And that is exactly what she did. She screamed at the top of her lungs, a shrill scream that sent shivers up the spine of the good doctor. It was agonizing to listen to hear. It was not a scream of fear or anger but anguish.

A woman screaming in anguish was something the good doctor did not condone.

The brunette violently thrashed in her brother's grip as she screamed and clawed, and shouted in sheer agony. It felt like fire was surging through her veins, burning every inch of tissue in her being. Throughout the fit he held onto her, tightly, still repeating the same phrase over and over again in a low voice. While his face remained unchanging Bates noticed a tear slip down his cheek. Even he felt the young woman's pain. Her thrashing died down as she fell limp in her brother's arms. He rearranged her in them to make her more comfortable, ignoring the claw marks she had left in her wake. More tears began to streak her cheeks as she wept. Bates had a hard time masking his emotions, but nonetheless he did not want to hint how much it disturbed him that humans were being treated in such a manner.

"Are we alone?" Bates asked. The question was simple enough but his tone asked more than what he let on. He needed to know if there were cameras or any bugs in the room. The man raised a brow at him as his eyes narrowed.

"Why do you want to know…"

Bates glanced to the door to see the guard peer in, shot him a dirty look then crouched on the floor near the man and his sister. The man hugged his sister closer to him protectively, and she in return huddled into his body for comfort. Her hands clung to his bicep and his shirt. Bates noticed and kept his voice low.

"I want to help you."

The man growled slightly, his upper lip curling into a snarl.

"Bullshit."

But Bates shook his head. His blue eyes held nothing but honesty. If anyone could tell what he was thinking or feeling they would have to take one look at his eyes.

"My name is Gerard Bates. I am supposedly the staff psychologist here, only to give my opinions on a patient's behavior."

He wasn't telling the whole truth. The man knew that. He could tell just by the inflection of a voice when a person was concealing something.

"You're lying…" he sneered.

"Only telling half-truth. That isn't lying."

"You're just like them…"

Bates only smiled at him but heard the door open.

"Dr. Bates."

A young man dressed in a nurse's uniform peered into the room. He appeared to be about the patient's age, and his deep blue eyes held a look of worry for the patient and his sister. Bates glanced up as well just smiling.

"The head doctor would like to speak with you and have you observe a procedure…" He sounded as if it was something abominable. Bates caught the worry lines in his brows but nodded and glanced to the patient before rising to his feet.

"I will be visiting you again."

With that last statement he left the room leaving the nurse alone with the patients. He shut the door and quickly rushed to the side of the two.

"He didn't hurt either of you did he?" Blue eyes glanced from the man to the woman but the man shook his head glancing to the door where Bates had exited.

"He looked like he wanted to help us…"

The woman whimpered a bit. Both men glanced to her but it as the patient who began stroking the side of her face gently.

"Shhh Lotte shhh…" he soothed.

"She's not taking well to the injections…"

"No."

The male nurse gave the man a worried look.

"She'll get sent to the dungeon with the wild ones if there isn't any improvement."

"They'll destroy her down there…you know that…I can't let that happen…not to my sister…"

"I know Jack…I know…"

Jack grasped onto the nurse's arm a frightened look in his eyes.

"Don't let my girl go down there Jonathan…please. Don't let her go down there."

Jonathan grasped his hand tightly.

"I'll do my best to make sure she doesn't end up down there. I promise."

drabble

There were nights where the shack was frigid as the arctic, and then there were times where it was as hot as the fires of hades. That night however it was not to hot and not too cold but it was very humid. Rain had begun to pour down and Leon could only sit gazing out the window, clutching a blanket around his thin frame. The shack wasn't horribly bad and his companion wasn't all that unagreeable. But he did wish for the companionship of his twin brother, and his younger sister. A sigh left his lips as he watched the droplets cling to the hazy window and slip down the pane. A tear mimicked one of the droplets as it dripped down his face.

"Thinking about your siblings again Leon?"

Leon was woken out of his daze when he heard the low voice of his companion beside him. When did he get there? Blue eyes held concern for Leon; it was reminiscent of Alex's gaze when Alex was worried about him. But Leon closed his eyes and glanced away curling into himself even more. He flinched when he felt a hand on his shoulder but relaxes when it gave his shoulder a gentle reassuring squeeze.

"We'll be leaving soon. Can't stay in this shack for too much longer."

Leaving the shack. Was it possible?

Mine

I needed some nitty gritty BDSM between John Sheppard and Ronon Dex.

He did not expect this.

He was bound to a chair, ropes confining his wrists to the back of it, a silk blindfold concealing his eyes, his legs spread apart and tied to the legs of the wooden chair he was seated upon.

He was also naked.

The chill breeze drifting into the room from the far window didn’t help either.

All this and he could care less.

If it made his lover happy then by god he would submit to this.

A hiss passed through his teeth when he felt the sharp slap of leather against his thigh. A brief pause and then another. Then a succession of three more alternating between his thighs. Pain wasn’t something he minded. In fact he enjoyed it. The leather belt began to work its way up his stomach and torso, leaving welts in its wake. Each strike just made his cock grow even harder. He let out a small groan and opened his mouth to speak but it was quickly filled by a cloth gag tied around his head. The organ was throbbing now even as he heard the heavy footsteps of his lover walking around him. He began to anticipate what he would do to him next. His lover always had surprises for him and he constantly concocted new ways to tease and torture him. It was what kept their sex life alive and full of life. A shudder quivered down his spine as the cool leather of the riding crop brushed against his cheek.

“You look so pretty bound and gagged like that Sheppard. I should tie you up more often.”

Colonel Sheppard could only quiver as the deep growling voice of his lover breathed into his ear. He had the riding crop in hand and felt the sting of it against his face. Again…do that again Ronon. Don’t go easy on me tonight. He thought to himself. The crack of the crop against his other cheek made him hiss in pleasure. His cock twitched, throbbed and began to ache. He knew Ronon noticed as well. The Satedan could be rough, almost brutal some nights. Lord knew Sheppard needed it tonight, after another conflict with the wraith. They almost lost each other in the skirmish so Sheppard needed something to distract him from the fear and pain in his heart. Another sting of the crop on his body, and another. They became more violent with every strike and soon the strikes were not even from the crop itself. Ronon had switched to the nine-tailed whip. The lashes left deep welts on Sheppard’s pale skin, and they would remain there for a long while. He endured another hour of this pleasurable torture and soon enough he felt the gag removed from his mouth and his limbs released from their bindings, but the blindfold remained in place, even as he limply sat in the chair. He caught Ronon’s scent when he felt a hand cup his chin and the hot breath of the six foot five Satedan male in his ear.

“I’m going to fuck you into the bed.”

There was nothing gentle in his tone of voice but his motions were the opposite of his words. Dexterous fingers stroked John’s welted cheek and then his lips were captured by Ronon’s mouth. Hot and moist and unyielding. Just the way John liked it. He eagerly submitted to Ronon’s hungry kisses, parted his lips when prompted and dared to fight his lover’s tongue for dominance. As Ronon suckled upon John’s tongue his calloused hand gingerly trailed down the chest and torso of his lover until his fingers curled around the hot throbbing organ between John’s legs and began to stroke it. A whimper escaped John's lips as he leaned towards the bigger man. You bastard…don't make me wait now…he thought to himself as the strokes became faster and the kisses turned into sucking on his neck. Sheppard writhed against Ronon as his hand slowed its stroking.

"Please…" John begged.

"Please what. What do you want Sheppard." Came Ronon's reply. He was never known to call John a slut, a bitch or a whore. While John may have enjoyed sex and submission he was none of those things. He was so much more to Ronon than a slut.

"Fuck me into the bed."

Two seconds later John found himself thrown down upon the bed in the room, but the moment he tried to get up on his elbows he was pressed down against the bed. Ronon was too strong to be pushed off but it's not like Sheppard minded anyway. It was always a turn on when he was manhandled. Ronon's body pressed against him, he could even feel his lover's cock press against his ass. A shudder and a moan jolted through Sheppard as Ronon grasped his hips in his large hands. Without warning Ronon entered him roughly, his teeth enclosing on the pale flesh of John's shoulder.

"Yes…" John groaned as he pushed back against Ronon. Knowing the Satedan, he would be sore as hell in the morning. Ronon's pace was brutal, his grip tight on John's hips. Nails dug into his flesh, as Ronon's lips showered kisses and nips along Sheppard's shoulders and neck. He was damned determined to leave a mark, and he always did. Faster and more brutal came the thrusts and Sheppard had a hard time holding back. Until Ronon gave him permission, he was not allowed to come. It drove him wild. He was so close it was painful.

"Ronon….please…" he panted.

"Hush princess."

Ronon was now slamming his hips into John's, causing the bed to creak under his movements. His body loomed over John's, hands still gripping onto his lover's hips tightly. John almost couldn't take it, but upon feeling Ronon's hand curl around his organ once more he almost lost it but it was code for John coming whenever he needed to. As Sheppard groaned low in his throat, he released his seed, Ronon milking every last drop from him. At the same time Ronon pulled John to him, holding him there as he released a low growl as he came.

It wasn't long after both collapsed upon the bed, side by side. Taking a moment to catch their breaths Ronon pulled the smaller male to him in a warm loving embrace. Lazily, John accepted it and smiled quietly to himself. He was definitely going to be sore in the morning but he didn't care. If Ronon was the one dealing the blows, John would be sore for the rest of his life. It was part of their game, part of their agreement of Dominance and Submission. Outside of a scene Ronon and John were always equals and treated each other as such. Anything they did behind closed doors had been spoken of in great detail and great length. If there was something John didn't agree to, then it never was played out. And if John ever got uncomfortable or couldn't handle something, all that was spoken was the safe word and Ronon would stop to make sure John would be alright. That is how it was between them. John trusted Ronon with his life whether or not he was tied up.

"Mine." He heard Ronon whisper before feeling his teeth nip the shell of his ear. John was so tired from the romp all he could do was mutter an mmhmm before shifting so he could face Ronon. As soon as he shifted, he curled into his lover's warm and protective embrace, inhaling his scent and fell asleep.

Ronon drew the blanket over the two of them, keeping a muscled arm around John and heaved a heavy sigh of relief. John was safe, and so was he. That was all that mattered. Before he closed his eyes, he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of John's hair and muttered a small "thank God" before falling asleep, his lover protected in his embrace.