To Trust A Cop

Beta: working on it
Warning: rape, drugs, abuse
Notes: I know some of you has been howling at me not to do anything too bad to our brunet. Sorry guys, this was planned a long time ago and is more or less vital to the story. I’m really sorry to put some of you people down and hope you don’t lose faith in me and the story.

As earlier, please heed the warnings!!


47

His first meal as a captive had been the worst meal of his life. It would have been bad enough to eat anything prepared by untrustworthy characters. Top it off with the towering, obtrusive older Almasy present and you had a right disaster.

The brunet had tried valiantly to refuse the food and drink as long as the man stayed in the room. However, the blond had a way about him that made a person obey when pressured enough. Squall wasn’t eased in the least that when he had finished the simple meal it took less than ten minutes for his limbs to go numb and then slowly his eyes felt heavy and at last his mind was overcome by the drug.

As the youth woke up, an undiscernibly amount of time later, he found himself naked and in bed. That had been enough of a shock to make adrenaline clear his head. His way too imaginative mind had concocted all kinds of horrible things, mainly him being molested while completely out of it. However, it was quickly and easily established that he had not been touched in any perverted way.

It made him ridiculously paranoid. After the second meal Squall felt that his paranoia was legitimate. The “master” of the house hadn’t been present, but the food had still been drugged.

Squall decided to live off of water. Like hell he’d eat drugged food. Who would be as naïve as to do that? Who knew what horrible situation he would wake up in next time? The plan of living off of water worked for one day, he thought. It was hard to judge time without a watch or windows.

Then he had an unnerving visit of the oldest Almasy member again. The man had calmly, while smirking that trademark Almasy smirk, told him that either he ate the prepped food or he’d get a shot. His choice. Squall chose the prepped food with less conscious personal contact.

Squall had no way of telling how much time had passed when he groggily woke again. It must have been days. The amount of time he was out of it was more than a normal sleeping period because he often woke starved and thirsty and from time to time the need to use the toilet had been so strong he had almost not reached the bathroom in time.

The youth slowly sat up. By now he wasn’t as freak out to find himself perfectly naked in the huge bed. Fortunately his pants had always been left on the chair by a table that had been brought in that first meal time.

Feeling the usual need to relieve himself and get a couple gallons of cool water in his stomach, Squall slipped out of the bed. He snagged his pants and stared foolishly at the empty chair. What the…? Then he cursed loudly and uncharacteristically livid for him. The bastard had snatched his underwear! The nerve!

He stood bristling and cursing the Almasy genes for a while. There was not much to do but accept cold facts, and his bladder wasn’t patiently going to wait for him to get to the toilet any longer. Squall had to resign.

As he washed his hands, without soap because there were none anywhere what he could see, Squall shot a glance in the mirror. And stared. He had to blink a couple times and then consciously seek out the pains that should have been in his battered body. His face was almost back to normal. Only a few discolored areas and at a touch they didn’t even feel sore. His cheek and lips was mostly healed and the scab couldn’t be scratched off. Squall quickly checked other sore areas. He could breath with only a slight discomfort and his hand…

The brunet looked at them and carefully moved the fingers. He could move them without too much distress. What the fuck? Just how long had they kept him off and on sleeping? His experience with beating told him that a week for the bruises to heal to what they now were, but the ribs and fingers should have taken more time than that. Of course, he hadn’t exactly known the extent of the injury to his ribs, but his fingers had been dislocated for crying out loud.

This new revelation uneased him. As if the drugs and meals hadn’t been enough to disorient his sense of time.

Squall made his way back to the bedroom and stood for a long time. After a while he found it strange that no one had come with a meal yet. His stomach complained slightly. This too uneased him. The youth decided to use the time to explore his surroundings. Something he hadn’t gotten time for earlier. Or rather, he hadn’t had wit enough to do it.

It was a quick exploration. Not to his surprise it had a nice surface but a hollow inside. The nightstand tables were empty. The drawer were empty. The promising mirror cabinet in the bathroom was empty. Not even a toothbrush. If something, that was torture for someone used to brush twice a day and use a toothpick now and then. It only reminded him of the bad taste in his mouth and Squall closed the cabinet with a disgusted sound.

There were no shampoos or soap or anything but there was a small terry towel. He tested to wrap it around him and it marginally reached him from chest to upper thighs and around him. Not something you’d want to get caught in.

Not that Squall had any urgent need for a shower. Although the spoiled part of him wondered what a really hot bath would feel like. How it would feel soaking in that full length bathtub until his fingers wrinkled. He couldn’t help but a feeling of being sweaty and dirty and bad smelling. He also knew that it was probably all in his head. One didn’t get sweaty from being unconscious.

Squall exited the bathroom and pressed his uninjured hand to the suddenly loudly growling stomach. Had he been forgotten or what? Hopefully they weren’t going to drug him again and maybe regular meals for captives weren’t on the schedule? The youth sat down by the table and leaned his elbows at his knees. It felt as if it was yesterday and a hundred years ago since he was taken from his apartment. How could a person so easily lose perspective on time and place?

Seifer popped up in his mind. Like some damn rabbit from a trickster hat. Where by Hyne was he? Seeing as this was his first chance of going through events, he used it to distract his paranoid mind from other things.

First to come to his mind was that comment about them fucking like insane rabbits for a year. Did that mean that Seraph had kept an eye on Seifer for that long? And if so, how had he avoided getting to know where the blond lived? And why couldn’t he just look it up in a registry? Was Seifer protected somehow through his work?

Secondly, had Serano known who Squall was that night in the bar? But why, in that case, attack him and alert Seifer if they had been looking for the blond already at that time? Or hadn’t they? How had they gotten a key to his apartment? It hadn’t been stolen from him and certainly not from Seifer. That only left one stomach churning, hate burning conclusion. His landlord. If, and it was improbably since he knew the sound of a key turning a lock, his door hadn’t been lock-picked.

In any case. His current situation concluded that Seraph hadn’t gotten his hands on Seifer. He hadn’t found the blond’s apartment, if he had one. There always was the possibility that Seifer didn’t have an apartment in his name. He could have one in a friend’s name if there was the threat of having a sinister brother knocking on the door.

Squall stopped his train of thought then because it wanted to venture down a dark, dark alley. Still a small voice whispered that chest aching, heart wrenching question. Why had Seifer disappeared and left Squall in the crossfire?

Squall tugged at his hair to counter his inner pain with physical pain. Fortunately he was distracted with the sound of boots and the jingling of keys stopping outside his door.

He rose as the door was unlocked and opened. He wanted to hold an arm across his stomach, but knew that posture for what it was. Defensive. A way of saying: “I’m insecure and afraid.” Knowing this he forced himself to straighten his back and shoulders and fisted the hand he could fist.

To his relief it was only a guard who entered. He had learned to recognize the man. It was either he or the eldest Almasy who came with a meal. This time though, the stiff robotic guard had a large bundle under his arm. Brownish, small eyes found him and dumped the bundle to the table.

The youth silently took the bundle of things with a mixed feeling of curiosity/excitement and apprehension. The little curiosity he had had quickly vanished when discerning what it was. Toilet articles and clothes.

“You’re to shower and get dressed. You will dine with the master this evening,” the guard said stiffly in a deep baritone that seemed to come from the bottom of his shoes.

“I will not,” Squall argued automatically.

“Master Almasy said that if the clothes isn’t in your taste he will personally come to see you fitted into something else,” the guard countered.

They stared at each other for a while. Then the stiff guard left and locked the door. Squall was fuming and bristling but more from a deep feeling of helplessness. He wasn’t as stupid as to refuse whatever the “master” of the house wanted. As long as it didn’t involve any touching. Squall was rather certain, but not a 100 percent, that he’d rather break his other eight fingers than let anyone touch him without expressed consent.

He glared at the door and then at the bundle. His stomach was knotting in more than hunger now. What was the man planning? Why have Squall eat dinner with him? There were a lot of different possible reasons but his mind was perversely focused on that one thing. That he would somehow be tricked or drugged or simply manhandled down into a position he vehemently did not want to be in. Squall shook his head. Bad thoughts. Bad, bad thoughts.

Instead he intensified his glare at the bundle on the table. He picked up one item at a time and spread them. Shampoo and soap, toothbrush and toothpaste, a larger terry towel and… attires to wear. He shivered at the sight of the clothes. Dark blue satin pants with a black silk belt. A blouse that at first glance looked to be for a woman but at second glance there was no womanly curves in the waist or chest area. It was in a deep purple color with an imbedded pattern of dragon like creatures all over it. You had to shift the fabric in the light to get a look of the creatures. The arms where long and flimsy and the ends so wide he could have fitted ten hands there. Hyne, was you supposed to be able to use your hands without destroying the beautiful garment?

The garments in themselves had been ok hadn’t it been for the jewelry. A necklace in the form of a golden chain. It had a looping lock like a dog chain. In the end of one of the rings a small diamond the shape of a drop hung. Bloody hell, he’d look like some damn tropical bird in this ridicules outfit. He noted sardonically that he wasn’t supplied with any footwear or underwear. To lessen his eagerness to escape? Or just for convenience? It wasn’t that the “master” of the house had a foot-fetish right?

Squall cursed and fumed over the way too gay clothes for his tastes. He still knew that his anger was just a way to subdue the anxiety building up. It seemed impossible for him to stop imagining those two forcing him into something he didn’t want. The brunet clenched his jaws hard. Maybe that was what Almasy wanted? To have him nervous and anxious and afraid of such a violation? After all, the man had yet to hurt him. Though he very well remembered those fingers stroking and touching as they shouldn’t have. Who knew just what he had done to an unconscious body? Squall shivered as a livid imagination made pictures he didn’t wish to remember.

With a hiss of frustration he grabbed the things and entered the bathroom.

The water was hot. Hot and wonderfully warm even after a long soak. His body eased considerably under the hot spray. He was almost content enough that dressing wasn’t a big issue. Until he realized just how skin tight the pants were. Was he supposed to sit in them? Move? Without proper underwear he felt almost naked in the thin material.

When he was done, Squall had to reluctantly admit that he looked good. In a feminine/masculine way and he wouldn’t ever dress like this on his own accord. But still… he looked rather good. The necklace was heavy and he quickly gave up in getting any leeway with it. The diamond, if it wasn’t just plain glass, weighed the chain down and strung it taut around his throat. Not suffocatingly so but discomfortably.

Then he waited. And waited.

He paced around nervously and fiddled with the necklace. It was disturbingly how quickly he made a habit of it. When the guard finally came Squall had worked up a good nerve tingling agitation. The stiff faced man grunted something that Squall took as move out.

He didn’t fight the hand clasping one of his arms. He didn’t try to struggle when he was dragged along either. Though he wondered why the idiotic gorilla had to wrench his arm so hard.

They returned to the entrance hall and continued up the long marble stair. It split half way up into a stair left and right. They walked left. Squall couldn’t quite not ogle all very expensive things in the mansion. Most of it was art in different forms. He smelled food in the air once they had turned down a couple corridors and stiffened. He was led to a wooden door and shoved inside the room once it was opened.

It wasn’t quite what he had expected. He had morbidly expected some kind of fairytale absurdly huge dining hall with a high ceiling and a long table where you’d have to use a telescope to see the other side.

But the room was a… well smaller dining room. There was a section by an open fire faced with sofas and a coffee-table. The dining table was large but not overly so. It could hold ten people but only the left side was in use.

The door closed behind him and green eyes looked up from some paper the man had been reading. Squall wanted to take one of the heavy looking draperies by the windows and hide in. Even more so as those dark, lewd eyes traveled along his body as if touching him. It made the hair on his arms stand and his spine stiffen.

They were alone and the table was already set with covered trays of food. Stop staring at him, it was bloody rude! He couldn’t make himself face those dark, dangerous eyes. In a way they resembled Seifer’s in the beginning of their… relationship. But the difference was still huge. The youth couldn’t easily discern it or explain it. He just knew that while he had been able to push Seifer around to a degree he just couldn’t muster enough courage to stare down this older man.

In the end he had to tug at the blouse that tended to ride up and show a sliver of his stomach.

“Sit down, or do you usually eat standing?” Seraph grinned but it was the sort that held no warmth whatsoever.

Squall slowly advanced. Almasy was seated at the short end and Squall closest at his right hand. Not even the width of the table to separate them. He blanched a little at the tableware. Shiny. Expensive. It looked like artwork and not something you was supposed to eat from. There was at least two too many plats and sets of glasses and knives and forks and spoons.

On the table was too many covered plates and bowls and stuff for what even four men could possible eat in one go. To say the least the youth was a bit intimidated by the settings. That the blond man with hard green eyes kept staring at him didn’t ease matters. As Almasy rose the brunet flinched and took a hasty half step from the chair he had been standing beside.

Stupid reflexive move. The man withdrew the chair and Squall very well knew he was meant to sit down. Like some damn lady. The tall blond had that smug expression.

“Are you going to stand there the whole evening?” he asked calmly.

“I can sit down on my own,” Squall countered and the man tilted his head.

“Can you? You seem a bit confused to me,” Almasy smirked.

Squall glared in anger and had he had fur it would be bristling across his back. The reaction made the older man chuckle. The first time Squall had heard it and it grated on his nerves.

“My brother always had a taste for the livid ones, in fact it’s something of a family trait,” he grinned and those eyes swept Squall’s body in a lewd manner.

“Your brother learned the meaning of no very quickly,” Squall growled.

That wasn’t entirely true but Seraph didn’t need to know that. A blond eyebrow arched.

“Really? I have a hard time believing that. Now sit down,” the man ordered and there was a subtle change in his voice.

That change made Squall move. His chair was pushed in and then the towering man sat down too. The trays and bowls where uncovered and it was really food on every single one. The youth felt lost. What was he supposed to do? Chose a dish and then a plate? What did he need all these forks and stuff for?

He reluctantly decided to imitate the confident man who spooned up a small amount of soup in the first plate. Squall’s stomach growled angrily at the further delay when Squall hesitated. Reaching across the table would be awkward with the ridicules arms. Seraph solved that issue by serving Squall too. After that the man raised a beautiful carafe and poured deep red wine in one of the glasses. As he reached for Squall’s glass the youth quickly snatch his glass out of the way.

He got a stare that made him blush furiously. As if he had done something not even a five year old would have. Admittedly, the reaction was a bit childish but…

“I don’t drink alcohol,” he mumbled and looked away from that intense stare of dislike.

“To this food you will,” Seraph argued firmly and kept holding out his hand for the glass.

“I’m not drinking that,” Squall just as firmly denied.

Like hell he’d willingly eat or drink anything that would muddle his brain and slow his reflexes! He got a new stare. A dark, dangerous stare that made one look away and squirm.

“Give me the glass boy,” the man ordered in a low voice.

An intense and low voice that managed to underline the difference in age and power between them without actually saying anything of the sort. Squall handed over his glass. It felt as if years had been stripped from him and he was no more than the scrawny teenager he had once been. How could that be? It wasn’t as if the man had said or done anything specific to have Squall in a nervous twit.

Grey-blue eyes widened as something distinctly powdery was put in his glass before the wine was poured. The bastard hadn’t even tried to hide it! The glass was put down and the blond arched his eyebrows at Squall’s bristling anger.

“I’m not some damn fool. I won’t drink that,” he hissed indignantly.

Seraph slowly smirked. He’s eyes took on a dark amusement and the way they narrowed reminded Squall of a particularly big feline.

“Don’t fret so. It’s not narcotics,” he said calmly.

Like that would make a difference!

“Then what is it?” he growled.

“Hopefully something that will bring a good income,” the man purred.

Squall stared, not quite knowing what to make of that comment.

“That didn’t tell me anything,” he pointed out and made the man chuckle.

“That in your glass costs more than what you make in a year so show some appreciation and drink it.”

“Hell no,” Squall growled.

Angry for real now. Damn arrogant bastard. As if Squall would swoon in gratitude to be given some suspicious substance to drink. Then the man leaned forward slightly and stared the youth straight in the eyes.

“Don’t make me force you, if I have to you will beg Serano to break your other fingers,” the man purred as if sweet talking a girl.

Squall stared into the green eyes. He stared for a long time not quite believing what he saw. This man had just gotten something in his eyes that the brunet had never before seen. He couldn’t put a finger on it, or pin point the feeling he got. Was this man… truly insane? Psychotic?

The brunet found his mouth dry like sandpaper and his palms had turned clammy. Seraph leaned back and it felt as if Squall could suddenly break away from a mesmerizing spell. He took the glass and drowned all of it as if it was medicine. Maybe a bit alcohol wasn’t too bad. Whatever was in it was tasteless and currently the fear of the unknown substance was far inferior to the instinctual fear this man had just awakened in him.

They ate. The atmosphere was oppressive and the man didn’t look away from him if not absolutely needing to. Those eyes followed the spoon every time it dipped into the soup and returned to Squall’s mouth. To his chagrin Almasy soon took his glass and refilled it with powder and wine. The man then pointedly sat it down close to Squall’s elbow. The youth stared at it wondering just what it was.

Some experimental drug? Was he used as a guinea pig? What was supposed to happen? Or was it a truth serum? Did the man think Squall had lied when saying he didn’t know where Seifer was? He ruled out poison since killing him would work against Seraph’s goal right now. Squall didn’t ask and didn’t argue though. He downed that glass also and gave the man a pointed glare. Thankfully he could fill his own glass with water after that.

It was silent between them. Once his immediate hunger had been sated Squall was hard pressed to eat anything more. What with Seraph staring so at him. It made him awfully self-conscious. He kept tugging at his clothes in a vain attempt to cover more skin. He couldn’t breathe properly and his heart was steady in a heightened pace.

Squall shifted in his chair and imagined feeling sweat trickle down his back. Those eyes felt like hot hands caressing his body. Why couldn’t he just ignore the man? Just stop thinking about it. It was too hard though as it felt as if he was being undressed and fucked right there in the chair. Had the man been Seifer this situation wouldn’t have been so bad even though Seraph wasn’t unattractive. Like his younger brother he had that which made people look twice.

But unlike Seifer, Seraph had that strange thing about him. That which made you think danger in a whole different meaning than the cop. Soon enough the youth was beyond his limit of endurance. He gave the man a sullen glare which was answered with raised eyebrows.

“You’re staring,” he said just below snapping.

“Yes,” the man admitted.

They were silent and Squall ground his teeth.

“It’s impolite,” he then snapped.

Almasy quirked his lips before sipping his wine.

“Why do you think I gave you those clothes if not to look at you in them?”

The answer, delivered in an almost condescending tone, prickled Squall’s nerves. It also made his pulse pick up another notch in anxiety, his breathing had been heightened for a while now. Apparently the man noted the shift of nervousness and canted his head. Green eyes took on a darker glint, the sly mouth quirked like the smile on a predator. It made Squall want to go far, far away. It made his already tense and hyper alert body tingle even worse.

“I find it quite amazing that you’re not a prostitute,” the man suddenly stated.

Squall clenched his hand and jaw in anger. Why by Hyne was that so amazing?

“Then again, if I know Seifer he has you on your back whenever possible,” the man said calmly as if mentioning the increase of traffic control.

Squall felt his face heat up from anger and surprisingly embarrassment. However, he looked away from dark green eyes. Don’t take the bite. Just ignore the blond since he was obviously trying to make Squall angry. The man tilted his head.

“Or perhaps you enjoy a good ride? No?”

Squall was wondering what the man was getting at. Seraph leaned back and eyed Squall as if he was trying to see through the youth’s skin.

“No, you’re the protesting kind. You’ll say no but when you’re held down and fucked you’ll still moan and beg for it,” the blond purred.

Squall glanced over angrily. It was a mistake. So what if he sometimes was like that? Almasy chuckled.

“What do you enjoy most; cuffs, ropes or being bent over and held down?”

“Even if I liked any of that it’s none of your bloody business,” Squall hissed angrily.

Mistake, mistake, mistake. Green eyes where dark and glinting. He was toying with Squall and the brunet didn’t know how to break it or take any kind of control over the rapidly declining situation.

“I’m making it my business since I intend to find out just what has Seifer so infatuated with you,” the man purred and Squall froze solid.

His heart was beating harshly and he could feel an oncoming flood of adrenaline. That didn’t mean what he thought, right? The damn bastard only tried to scare him? However, as the blond man rose to his feet, so did Squall. Get a grip. He was a hostage and a hostage was supposed to stay unharmed, right? Or only stay alive?

The smile resembling that of a shark didn’t lessen his mounting fear.

“Shall we leave?” Seraph purred and held out a hand.

Squall took half a step back and released the chair as if the hand would burn him.

“What do you mean by finding out?” Squall breathed/hissed.

He really didn’t want to hear the answer.

“Isn’t that quite obvious? I’ll see what that body of yours can do and if it’s your moaning or ass that has my brother hooked,” Seraph Almasy calmly purred.

Squall had a moment where he was absolutely sure his blood turned to ice around a hard ball that had been his stomach. He fully understood the words spoken but he had an odd sense of his brain refusing to register the meaning. The hand stayed outstretch which Squall found odd. What was he waiting for? Did he honestly believe Squall would willingly go with him? Did the bastard think Squall eagerly slept with anyone or did he think the youth was so scared that he wouldn’t protest?

“Like hell you will,” Squall growled and glared.

He wouldn’t go down without a fight. If the bloody idiot wanted to fuck him Squall wouldn’t make it easy. The look he got fully twisted his insides. He had issued a challenge the man was fully prepared to take on. Those green eyes turned into sly slits and Squall could imagine him purring in dark content.

“Perhaps it is that naughty mouth he enjoys so much? Should I start with that do you think?” the serpent smirked.

As he advanced Squall backed away. He stormed his brain for a plan. An escape route, but this wasn’t some bar or even the sidewalk of a shady street where you could take flight from. This wasn’t a man that flinched at his glares. When Seraph finally pounced, Squall’s body reacted out of reflex. He dodged left since there was a table at his right. He used the move to drive his fist in the man’s stomach, with absolutely no effect. He could practically feel his knuckles meet hard, resilient abdomen muscles. He wasn’t even earned a grunt in pain.

In retaliation he got an elbow in his neck. It sent sparkling stars to his eyes. It hadn’t been hard enough to do damage or have him fall more than to all four though. Squall hissed in pain as his hair was fisted and used to bend him backwards until he could meet dark green eyes. Hyne, there was distinct arousal there, what else could it be?

“Don’t make me hurt you, your body haven’t fully healed yet has it?” Seraph purred.

Squall glared.

“Then leave me alone.”

He only got a toothy grin in response. Squall was dragged to his feet and when his injured hand was grasped, ghost pains shot up through his arms. Not even chains would have made him easier to lead. Like a docile, stupid goat he followed the man while clutching the wrist of the hand holding his. Spirits, if the blond only applied a tiny bit more pressure Squall would be in a world of pain. He didn’t realize until that moment just what that abuse of his hand had made to him.

The will to struggle loose just vanished. Instead he could hardly breathe from fear of that excruciating pain.

They returned to the stair and ascended to the opposite side. Squall would have needed a map to live in the huge mansion. After a couple turns and twists and down a few corridors they arrived at the master bedroom. There was no arguing the secure hold on his damaged hand.

Before Squall could orient himself, they entered a dark room and the door closed behind them. Seraph Almasy’s bedroom wasn’t as overflowing with expensive art as the rest of the house. It was big with a walk in closet and an adjoined bathroom, both doors stood open. Mostly it was open space and a huge four post bed. Why was such beds manufactured anyway? You could fit ten people in a bed like that.

He was surprised to not feel any panic or overwhelming fear which he had on other occasions. Had he resigned himself then? Had he already accepted what seemed inevitable? That thought made the brunet almost growl. He was dragged towards the bed and tried with all his strength to stop the forward momentum.

“Damn it, I don’t want this!” he growled.

Seraph halted and insanity made Squall bend over and bite down hard in the hand holding his. He was rewarded a growl of pain, then pain so bright and clear it made his brain go numb assaulted him. Squall was screaming/wailing in pain and clawed at the hand that had suddenly started to crush the damaged fingers.

The man hunched down to Squall’s eyelevel since the youth had fallen to his knees. The brunet clenched his jaws brutally to stop his howling in pain. It didn’t lessen the agony that shot up through his arm, out in his shoulder and chest, down to his toes and up in his brain.

“What insanity made you think that was a wise move?” Seraph asked darkly and his face and voice had changed.

It wasn’t so amused any longer. There was anger there and it was the first time Squall had sensed anger in the man. It scared him.

Then his hand was released and he bent over it, clutching it to his chest and willing the pangs of agony to subside. A hand suddenly fisted his hair. He was kissed and pressed his lips together so hard they went numb. Maybe he should have allowed the bastard to use tongue? That way he could have maybe bitten it off. The blond withdrew and looked down with that predatorily expression again.

“I see I’ll have to correct you to truly appreciate this evening. He did a bad job with you, didn’t he?” the man smirked.

Squall glared but held his tongue. His hand still pulsated in pain. Seraph reached for his hand and Squall made the childish thing of trying to curl up around it as to not have it taken again. There was a short, silly struggle between them that only had one outcome. The brunet managed to not make any noises as he was dragged towards the bed, his hand encircled by that much larger one again.

“I don’t want this, why do you force me?” he breathed.

Squall didn’t really want to class it as a plea. More like a question.

“You say that now, but we both know you will be moaning and begging before this night is over,” the blond smirked.

“As if!” he hissed at the spark of anger the comment made.

However, the anger was useless in the face of the fear of that blazing agony. At the edge of the wide bed, Squall could just stare as the man easily hauled down a chain with cuff from each post and cuffed Squall’s hands widely spread. Was it normal to have chains permanently fastened in your bed? No, it wasn’t.

Almasy left him there to enter the walk in closet. It was lit and the light spilled over to the bed. Squall’s stomach knotted. He distinctly saw the chains at the head of the bed too. Then he saw the array of tools laid out on one side. Dildoes in different shapes and… a Hyne damn whip and paddle. The first true fear started to curl inside of him.

Squall started as the light went out and the man returned. A lamp at the nightstand table was lit instead and the youth had his first sight of the completely naked man. Seraph was in no way inferior to Seifer. He had the built. That broad muscular chest, straight hips, strong thighs. He might have been a little leaner than the younger Almasy, but otherwise Squall couldn’t find much difference between them.

Both had a hairless chest and that bronze tone in their skin. Both pranced around stark naked as if they weren’t. Both were blond down there to and both… Hyne, if they weren’t the same size Squall would go check his eyesight. He couldn’t deny the attractiveness of the older man. He couldn’t deny the odd acceptance his brain had made. All other times people had force themselves on him he had reacted with anger fueled by fear and panic. So why did his brain not send out those signals now?

Then the man picked up something long, steel gleaming and pointed. Squall’s whole body froze in panic/fear at the sight of the knife. His mouth turned dry like a sandpaper within seconds as the naked man approached him.

“What are you planning?” he croaked and twisted to try and keep sight of that gleaming steel.

He jumped as a hand pressed against his shoulder blades.

“Hush.” Warm breath puffed over his neck and ear.

Squall stood perfectly still while his heart was making a tantrum in his chest. Almost did he jump at the feel of the cool blade against his hip. It glided under the pants, followed the waist of them until the knife was at the small of his back. Then it cut down and the tight pants slipped of his legs like water. Squall found himself breathing harshly and his legs felt weak. Then the blade cut through the back of the blouse until it licked his neck and he reflexively hung his head. The knife followed his arms as if it was a finger caressing him. First right, then left. The blouse soon fell to the floor.

A warm, large hand stroked his back from his neck to his buttocks in one firm move and his skin rippled with odd reaction. The hand traveled up again and down along his side. The knife was thrown to the bed and both hands were stroking him. Squall was clenching his jaws so hard they started aching. He was pressing his legs together harshly and tensing his buttocks and abdomen. In short his muscle started shivering from the strain.

Then one hand cupped a buttock before fingers glided between them and stroked. Squall tensed up even more. The man was persistent and when his neck was bitten softly the youth jumped and tried escaping forward but coming up short in the chains.

“Seifer should at the least have taught you how to relax,” the man purred, his voice gone quite huskier.

“You’re not him,” Squall growled through clenched teeth.

Seraph chuckled and stepped around to the tools on the bed again.

“No, thank Hyne for small miracles,” he grinned and picked up a couple leather cuffs.

Squall hissed and struggled when his ankles where caught one after the other and cuffed to the posts. He got a sharp bite to his thigh and almost gasped at the sharp flash it sent through his nerves. Then a hand stroked his shin, thigh and up to his hip before continuing up his ribs. The hand circled to stroke his pectorals and the other hand squeezed his buttock again. Squall re-clenched his jaws as his neck was sucked to bruise and fingers slipped between his buttocks. A nipple was found and as it was tugged a second flash of harsh sensation made Squall short of breath. The fingers continued to twist and tug at the increasingly sensitive nipple while the other fingers stroked the cleft of his ass.

“That’s much better. Don’t you think?” Seraph purred as the fingers stopped to only stroke across that puckered entrance.

“No,” Squall growled in response.

He expected the rapist to force his fingers inside the tightly clenched tunnel. Maybe even drop the act of foreplay and go straight to the matter. He didn’t expect his nipple to be abandoned and the hand to stroke down his stomach to his flaccid penis.
He tensed up in preparation of pain or something other sadistic thing. However, as the large hand covered his flesh and kneaded, a flash of pleasure so strong it made him arch shocked him.

The hand kneaded harder and the pleasure pooled from Squall’s groin, through his stomach out in his body in rippling waves that left him gasping and trembling. As he was fisted and stroked he gave a shuddering, protesting moan. What by Hyne was going on? His body felt aflame. His groin felt aflame and aching and he grew hard and full from just a few strokes.

The free hand on the man stroked Squall’s heaving stomach up to peeked nipples. As nails scratched one, Squall jolted and arched back against the man. Hot, hard sensations flashed through his spine straight to his groin and head.

Fear started to mingle in the insane, sudden pleasure. The onslaught was so sudden and strong the youth could barely form any question beyond how? His oversensitized nipples where left alone and the fingers traced his shivering body to his buttock. The man wetted the fingers before two pressed inside. Squall stifled a moan as the sudden spreading of that entrance just heightened the unnatural pleasures.

“You’re tighter than I expected, or is it because you tighten up on me? It will do you no good you know?” Seraph mused and moved the finger.

“Stop,” Squall gasped as the fingers rocked and his body turned to a shivering jelly construction.

It was not possible. What was happening? A hot mouth sucked his neck hard enough to leave another mark.

“I would if you really wanted to, but we both agreed you’re one of those sluts who get off by being forced, did we not?” Seraph huskily murmured.

“No, what did you do?” Squall gasped as he managed to focus past the sudden assault of pleasure.

It was that powder doing this, wasn’t it? It had been some damn narcotic after all!
He was suddenly released. Squall had thought that distance would ease things, but his cock was rock hard and his groin and stomach a hard coiling pool of molten lava. His body was shivering and he couldn’t control his breathing.

“I gave you the most potent aphrodisiac on the market. Quite enjoyable, isn’t it?” Almasy purred as he was picking up some of the toys on the bed.

Aphrodisiac? Wasn’t that just a hoax? Squall had thought such things didn’t truly exist. Obviously something existed because the thing running through his nerves was not natural. It was a raw pleasure. It felt as if every erogenous zone he ever known he had was lit on fire. He could feel his heart beat inside his chest, thrumming against his ribs.

Somehow that knowledge gave him a weird mixed feeling of relief and agony. He couldn’t control his reactions. It wasn’t even truly his own body betraying him to this stranger. At the same time he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from responding or crying out in pleasure or even from coming in this bastard’s hands.

The man had returned to stand behind him.

“Bastard,” Squall growled.

Seraph chuckled as large hands stroked Squall’s shivering sides.

“I can give you that one for free, but you realize that I can drive you far enough to snap your mind with pleasure? It is possible you know, I’ve seen it happen,” the man purred and soft lips caressed Squall’s ear.

Squall twisted away. He didn’t argue, he believed the man and the prospect scared him. He gasped as large hands encircled his penis and balls. Squall almost cried out as a nasty restriction was clasped around balls and cock. The leather completely enclosed both and it hurt almost too much for him to stand it. He was gasping and twitching once the immediate pain subsided.

Something thin and long and vibrating was stroked between his buttocks and teased his entrance. He almost knew what that was. At that moment he also realized there was a form of torture that had nothing with pain to do but would have the same affect.

The head of the vibrating thing teased inside the puckered entrance. Twisting, rolling, vibrating and forcing shuddering gasps from him. Fingers stroked his lips and Squall tried snapping after them too late. His ear was bitten hard in retaliation, the pain only heightened other sensations.

“I’ll play with you for a while, when you’ve had enough we’ll fuck,” the man murmured.

Squall swallowed hard. The vibrator slowly pressed inside. Deeper and deeper and the vibrations where enough to make him shiver and gasp. The crooked head of the thing found that elusive spot and Squall was crying out and arching.

The insane pleasure was borderline torturous pain. Lights danced in front of his eyes, his whole body twitched, jolted and spasmed. Every nerve was on fire. The device was shifted and thrust as deep as it could. It didn’t stop anything, it lessened that sharp, agonizing pleasure. It made his head reel and he was breathing as if having been running like mad.

The vibrator was withdrawn, and thrust in. The crooked head was stroked along his insides hard or soft. As it returned to once again torture his prostate Squall sobbed and cried out. Seifer. He found himself repeating the name like a mantra in his head as his body was brought to heights of pleasure he thought not possible.

A large hand fisted Squall’s enclosed cock. It was lubed and started stroking. As a finger swiped over the sensitive head and the vibrator pressed down on his spot, Squall’s mind went white.

He stopped thinking as the white, raging blaze of pleasure overtook him. Now and here or then and there stopped existing. Any thought process was cut off, the awareness of self dissipated in face of the overpowering ecstasy. He was coming and yet not.

*****

Squall became dizzily aware again. It felt as if no time had passed and still it had. He was on his stomach on the bed, arms locked behind his back. He was on fire. At first he didn’t realize he was moaning and humping the bed. When he did he couldn’t stop. He was aching so badly he didn’t know what to do.

His hair was plastered to his forehead, his body glistening in the soft light. Then hands were on him and he was moaning and squirming like a cat in heat. Each place the hands touched felt aflame. His hair was twisted to arch his back. Fingers dug into that hot hole and Squall gasped and groaned. It was itching down there, clenching and unclenching and he wanted. The need to get fucked had never been so overpoweringly strong.

“You’re quite ready to get fucked, or what do you say?” the man purred huskily.

Squall moaned. He wanted to scream yes, but his mouth just couldn’t form words. Especially not when the restriction was released around the inflamed area between his legs. He was crying for a long while. Not from pure pain, but from the insane pleasure.

His hips was raised and somehow he stayed on his knees. Some deep part of him was still coherent enough to make him understand the situation, but there was no care for it. Even less as he was spread around the straining girth of the man.

Squall was gasping loudly with each breath. Hips bucking back on the large member so easily entering him. Once as deep as it could go, it withdrew and thrust back in. Squall gasped and squirmed. Good. More. Harder. Hyne above, make him come.

The man was thrusting harder and faster, hands firm around bucking hips. The youth didn’t know if he just thought it or voiced his plea for harder thrusts. He got it in any case. He was rammed so hard it smacked and shook him. At some point something was brushed and finally. Finally his spine arched, toes curled and eyes rolled as the orgasm was ripped from him much like the sudden explosion of a violent volcano.


Author’s Note: About this time my re-reader and best friend started yelling at me to get Seifer back ASAP. *lol*
Be calm, everything is minuscule planned and we will see our dear cop again.


Sorry if I offended someone in my reader response in the last chapter. It was not my intention but by pure principle I will not go back to previous chapters and change stuff. Instead I will carry with me the tips and ideas and make future chapters better.

It’s a way for me to see how much I “evolve” :p