Chapter Text
There's something in his mouth.
He can feel it, anyway, the weight on his tongue, the long thin shape of it. If Teylan tries, he can plot out an image of it in his head, like visualizing the guts of a computer, figuring out what's wrong with the holopad before he's gotten the casing off, and Mercer will clap him on the back and say--
"Breathe," and the voice is all wrong, too deep for Mercer's, a stranger's accent. "Breathe, Sarentu."
Don't call me that, Teylan would scream if he could. That's a bad word. That's a dangerous word. It isn't safe, you'll get distracted, start thinking of things you shouldn't, gotta stay focused, there's work to be done, Pandora needs us, Pandora needs you, kiddo, needs--
"In through the nose, out through the mouth," the voice orders--So'lek, it's So'lek, of course it is, no wonder he sounds so calm, he knew Teylan would crack eventually. "In through the nose, out through the mouth. Do you understand?"
But there's something in his mouth. There's something in his mouth. And he can't...he can't spit out, or move his head away, because that would be dangerous. Bad. Rude. Inconsiderate. Just a little longer, now. Patience is a virtue, remember?
He remembers. He remembers every. single. one. of his lessons. He's good like that, a good student, a good boy. Good...
Blur of motion at the corner of his eye and he flinches back, nostrils flaring. A figure over So'lek's shoulder, small, but Sky People are good at looming even when they're small. Teylan just has to get smaller and smaller and smaller and--
"What happened?" So'lek rests a hand on his chest and Teylan wants to arc into the touch, make it turn into a caress, but his body is all locked up and still.
"I was just, I was just," a low, shaky breath, she (Priya, her name's Priya, Priya Chen, remember when he comes, he'll want a full report) sounds more nervous than usual. "I found some pine freshener in a desk, you know, old crap, from way back when, I wanted to show Teylan how it worked, I--"
He can smell it now. Pine, sharp and crisp. Sprayed over Mercer's desk, over a clump of green and red plastic. Meant to be mistletoe. Hand stroking his hair, a laugh. Get in the Christmas spirit.
Christmas spirit. Get in. Get on it. Get on your--
There's something digging into his back, pressing in around him. Too small, too close, he hates small spaces, he'd almost cried getting into that stupid cryo tank. It had always been too fucking small under that desk, even when he was small, too, left him bruised all over and aching when he walked.
Jaw aching too, of course, from having to hang so close, so careful, mustn't cause damage, mustn't bite--mustn't suck hard enough to distract Mercer from his work, either. He can feel his mouth doing it again, drooling threatening to pool and pour, even as his lungs twist in on themselves. Too small, too small, not enough air, not enough.
He's asking too much of Mercer, of course, too little of himself. He's never been balanced quite right, has he, not for anyone, not ever. Can't even breathe properly, not when there's something in his mouth. Something in his mouth. Something in his mouth. Something in his
Hands on his shoulders and he knows this, he does, he's settling forward on his knees, face tilted up to give Mercer better access. But instead of Mercer's soft sigh of approval, there's a surprised grunt, a rustle of a body adjusting its position.
"Steady, Sarentu," and So'lek's voice is louder now, closer, buzzing through his bones, like the toy that Mercer made them build, the one that-- "You got away from him, you all did." Liar, Aha'ri blood is in his mouth, mixing with sweat and cum. "He can't touch you anymore. He will never touch you again. He isn't here, and he will never be here."
Liar, liar, liar. But Teylan's shoulders heave, a sob ripping through him, and he feels his mouth forced upon wide. Air strings the back of his throat, great breath of empty space, and his mouth aches with the hollowed-out grief of a wound.