<span style="color: #80BFFF"><span style="font-weight: bold">”Which of your teeth would you miss the least?”</span></span><br/><br/>Kian rolled his hips, tilting his pelvis towards the taller man to indicate the metal zipper of his jeans in an obscene gesture.<span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #00BF80">“How about one from my fly?”</span></span>He said with a crooked grin.<br/><br/>Later, when he looked back, there’d be a lot of shame over the amount of time it took for him to realize just how serious the situation was. It was only when the heavy pliers advanced upon him that his smirk started to fade.<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #00BF80">“Hey, woah.”</span></span>Kian licked his lips nervously, taking a hesitant half-step back.<span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #00BF80">“Come on, I was kidding.”</span></span>He reasoned, eyes following the swing of the pliers as they were directed at Thomas, transfixed the way a mouse is to a snake pre-strike.<span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #00BF80">“Seriously man,”</span></span>Kian scooted himself further back, reaching the end of the length of his chain and the full extent of possible retreat.<span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #00BF80">“I can shut up, really, I-”</span></span>Fingers that felt more accurately like steel claws tangled in his hair, applying pressure slowly to pull his head back.<span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #00BF80">“No, quit it man. Stop it. N-”</span></span>His protests ended with a gasp when the steel trap snarled in his hair suddenly yanked, drawing his head back as far as it would go. Kian had backed himself up to the point that he was no longer balanced - the shackles around his wrists cut into the thin skin and his shoulders felt overextended from trying to aim his face as far away from the pliers as possible. The unexpected tug on his hair unbalanced him entirely, his sneakers kicking out from beneath him to leave his weight burdened entirely upon his shoulders and the grip on his hair. The muscles of his back and neck screamed in agony, his feet scrambled to find purchase again on the concrete floor. The pliers loomed above him.<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #00BF80">“NO! NO NO N-!”</span></span><br/><br/>Swift and sudden the blunt instrument was forced into his screaming mouth, clipping a canine and pushing, probing into the back of his throat as his attacker fumbled to find purchase on the tooth of choice. Kian gagged as the taste of metal flooded his mouth. Frantic, he kicked out wildly, desperate to rid his mouth of the instrument but unable to get back to his feet. Over his own muffled screams he could hear Lydia sobbing, Thomas’ low whimpers of horror. His eyes stared wide into the face of his attacker as the grip of the pliers found their way around his back left molar and secured their hold. Kian didn’t have time to move. With a sharp jerk, pain exploded in his jaw.<br/><br/>His vision went white and Kian roared.<br/><br/>His feet finally found level ground, legs sprawled as the sockets of his shoulders cried out with relief. The receptionist’s fingers were still twisted into his snarl of hair, exposing Kian’s face. Kian spat blood.<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #00BF80">“YOU SICK <span style="text-decoration: underline">FUCK</span>!”</span></span><br/><br/>The overwhelming taste of copper was everywhere, blood dribbled down his chin as he sucked in a ragged breath and tried not to swallow.