Chapter 1: An Introduction of Sorts
Chapter Text
“Come to Italy.”
It only took three simple words and David was hopping on a plane to meet someone he hadn’t seen in years. Not even a week had gone by since what happened with Tristan and since then his life had been in swift decline. His heart ached, he was broke as hell, his drinking addiction only worsened, and he was so damn lonely. He was on the verge of doing something drastic when he decided to phone his old history professor.
They used to be close, closer than should have been allowed. The older man was intriguing, David couldn’t help but talk to him every moment he could back then… plus.. he was extremely attractive. The way his eyes would light up when discussing ancient artifacts was a sight to behold, his smile was like the sun itself. His voice was smooth like silk, his accent so incredibly pleasant. Everything about that man was breathtaking. Who knew what he saw in David, the Brit was opposite what he found attractive in a man. He was brash, “quarrelsome,” as he said, and not the best listener in the world and to add to it he knew nothing about ancient history. Why had they become so close back then; and why allow him to come visit him now? David would have to ask him when he arrived, he supposed.
The Italian had moved back to Italy only two years ago to take care of the estate he and his uncle used to reside. It was a rather rough change for David. They would see each other every weekend before then, the older man was good at persuading David to drink less. “The less you drink, the more of this night you shall remember, Orsetto.” He had said those words so many times they were basically carved upon David’s brain… oh, how he hopes he’ll hear them again. Often times he’d drink far too much in front of him just to hear those glorious words and feel the suffocatingly arousing touches that followed.
David had never allowed himself to sleep with the man, he was buried quite deep in self denial then and the Italian had always been incredibly respectful. This time though, he found himself praying there would be something more to their time together.
—————————————————————
The flight was only a wee over two hours but it felt like forever. David was excited, to say the least, yet that only made every minute in the air feel like an eternity. Can you blame him? He was about to be in the presence of the most beautiful man he knew; anyone could agree excitement was more than deserved at such a time.
Finally, they landed and went through the ever grueling process of unloading and luggage retrieval. David swiftly pulled out his phone as he walked towards the exit, shooting his friend a text.
‘Just landed and got my shite. Terminal B.’
Only a moment passed and there was the reply,
‘I await you outside. The car is the same as you remember.’
With every step he felt his heart begin to race, a little late to be getting nervous. There was no point in turning back now as he spied the car not twenty meters from him. Just as he said, it was the same frost blue metallic 1947 Cistalia 202 SC Cabriolet, roofless and still in pristine condition.
“Bloody surprised ya still ‘ave ‘er.” The Brit said as casually as he could manage despite his nerves when he arrived at the passenger side.
The unbelievably handsome silver-haired man flashed him a smile, getting out to open the door for the younger man. “I could never bring myself to do away with such a beauty.. not when she has served me so very well.” Before the older man could get out another word David embraced him in a quick but powerful hug.
“T-Thank ya for lettin’ me stay wit ya, Vitto.”
Vittorio let out a magnificently smooth chuckle, patting David on the shoulder as the hug was broken. “It really was no trouble, Orsetto~ you are always welcome in my home…” He then cocked his head to the side, “and my car.”
David flushed when he realized he was keeping the man waiting as well as the old nickname he used, “Aye, thank ya.” He immediately took his seat, putting his small suitcase in between his legs, perhaps he packed a tad too light. Vittorio lightly shut the door, David couldn’t keep his eyes off of him as he made his way back around the vehicle, retaking his seat at the wheel. Seconds later they were on the road headed to his old professor’s estate.
They road in comfortable silence, the car’s engine being the only sound aside from the occasional dove or gullie. The whole ride David had been in awe of the beauty of whatever city they were in, making the older man unable to keep a proud grin off his face. The architecture was incredible, there was greenery at every turn it felt like, the large river running through the town was glorious. Heck, this place almost felt like something out of a dream. This moment had to be a dream, soon he’d wake up in the ally of whatever bar he got himself wasted at. Just let me stay asleep a little longer… he begged over and over again in his head as the comforting wind blew through his hair.
“Welcome to Florence, Orsetto.”
—————————————————————
Calling Vittorio’s mansion of a home glorious would be a massive understatement. It was breathtaking. The estate was right on the edge of the city which surrounded all sides except one, which overlooked the Arno river. He had window boxes full of vibrant flowers of all different variants of blue. The roof was intricate terracotta which would have been easier to admire if the mansion wasn’t four stories high. How much money did this man
have??
“Fuck, please tell me ya don’t live here by yourself,” David muttered out while Vittorio pulled into his parking spot outside the building.
“But, of course not, Amore.” He elegantly exited the vehicle, circling the vehicle and opening the car door for his passenger. “You are here now, yes?”
David stared at him with mouth agape, “there’s no foocken way ya are able to keep all this shite clean, mate.” He tried to suppress his shock, taking the invitation to exit the beautiful relic of a car with his suitcase in hand.
“Do you doubt me, dear David?” He closed the door and like magic the roof of the car began to close, no way that was possible with such an old model. He must have had it modified.
“Hell yeah I do.”
“I am quite hurt.” The older man mocked sorrow, leading David up the stairs to the door of his mansion. “But alas! I did jest with you, Orsetto.”
Before Vittorio could open the door it swung open itself, a large man greeting them. His long black hair flowed down over his well-toned shoulders like a waterfall of darkness. The man was dressed in a strikingly exquisite black suit with crimson and ash coloured accents. His face was intimidatingly handsome, perfect jawline, pale skin, complete with a neatly trimmed van dyke beard. Silver eyes met David’s browns, “Welcome,” the commanding voice bellowed, surrounding him; he swore his heart skipped a beat. He cleared his throat to speak- however, Vittorio beat him to it.
“Orsetto, May I introduce to you, Tarhos Kovács.”
The man standing in the doorway, bowed “Pleasure, Mister King.” There was something so charming about his accent, it was not too far off from Vittorio’s but it certainly was not Italian.
“Nice tah meet ya, mate.” David assumed Vittorio had mentioned him to the much taller man ahead of time, that must have been how he knew his name.
“Come now, the day is still upon us, let us not waste it here, yes?” Vittorio lightly brushed his fingers along Tarhos’ bicep after he granted them entry. “We have quite a multitude of topics to discuss.”
David quietly chucked at the way Tarhos tensed at the lord’s touch, shaking his head as he followed suit.
—————————————————————
Hours had passed, the first two floors of the mansion were toured as David caught Vittorio up on the events that led him to such a lowly state of being. Tarhos had remained quiet, following them through every room and hallway without complaint; silently listening to their friendly conversations. David couldn’t help but wonder what he was there for at all. What was the Italian’s relationship with such a hauntingly handsome man? Even though he did not yet know the answer he had to admit they fit well at each other’s side, their opposite aesthetics adding to their magnificence. He could feel his own eye twitch, some other feeling he did not know the name of boiling within him; David King was not the jealous type. He knew it must have been something else but decided to brush it off for now.
“Sounds to me like this life has treated you quite unfairly, Orsetto…” they were in the extravagantly decorated dining hall now when Vittorio turned on his heel to face his guest; Tarhos taking position behind the older man. “You are my friend, David… you can remain in my home as long as it pleases you. I only ask that you refrain from venturing to the third and fourth floor. My archives are on the third and they must not be disturbed. Dear Tarhos has full reign of the fourth.”
David nodded in understanding, bowing in a playful manner, “oh how I thank thee, most gracious lord~!”
Vittorio laughed almost royally at the display, “It is my utmost pleasure, darling boy~ nothing brings me greater joy than seeing you happy.”
David could feel the heat arise to his cheeks at the older man’s kind words. He knew they were overly dramatic, yet they still brought him back to better times. It was good to be in this man’s presence again. He would have to think of a way to repay him for all that he had graciously done for him.
“Ya too kind tah me, Vitto. Don’ deserve ya.” Tarhos released a deep noise, the nature of it David could not determine.
“My lord,” He bowed and excused himself.
David and Vittorio both watched him in his departure. David turned to the Italian as soon as Tarhos was out of earshot.
“Are ya two sumthin’ special,” He asked with no shame, locking eyes with the man for the first time since he arrived. Good Lord… he had forgotten how mesmerizing his eyes were.
“Now, why would you assume such a thing as that, Bellissimo?” He fearlessly maintained eye contact, closing the space between them, seemingly searching for something within him.
“Fit bloke, that.” He stood his ground, the other man mere inches from him. His heartbeat pounded so powerfully in his ears he feared that if the Italian spoke he would be unable to hear him. Thankfully, that was not the case.
“You are not so bad yourself, Orsetto…” his eyes fell to the other’s lips. “I do quite like this,” he ran his ring-clad thumb across the Brit’s upper lip, outlining the mustache that resided there. The Italian could not restrain himself any longer, he leaned in to steal his prize…
“W-Wait,” David turned his face away, cheeks flushed beyond reason. WHY THE HELL DID I DO THAT?!?!? WHAT THE FUCK!!! His inner voice screamed at him as Vittorio’s hand retreated from him.
There was a painfully long silence before the divine man spoke, “I sincerely apologize, David.” He took a step back, putting distance between them, “it is far too soon, I should not have done such a thing.”
“N-No…” he stammered, “I-I..”
Vittorio stopped him with a finger placed on his dry lips, “Fa niente. It changes nothing, Orsetto.” He removed his hand once more giving him a beautifully, comforting smile. Before David could explain himself the Italian let out a sigh, “it seems to have gotten late… I hope you do not mind if I retire for the evening?”
“Blimey…” Despite himself, he nodded. “G’night, Vitto.”
David watched the man’s every step as he crossed the dining hall, stopping suddenly at the door, turning back to the Englishman. “Oh, do help yourself to whatever you desire in the kitchen. I am sure you must be quite famished.” He then took his leave, disappearing into the darkness of the hall beyond.
David had completely lost whatever appetite he had developed, his shame fully enveloping him. He had just ruined what could have led to the best moment of his life. Bloody fuckin’ hell. After retrieving his suitcase from the entry hall he made his way to the room Vittorio had prepared for him. Way too elegant to feel completely comfortable in. The room was decorated in antiques imported from Rajasthan, Vittorio had explained; almost every square inch was covered in exotic beauty. He stripped down to nothing but his boxers as he admired the intricacy of his surroundings. The older man did have impeccable taste in decor, the complete opposite of his colourless flat back home. He moved the covers back, slipping into the soft bed; swiftly getting situated. It took very little time for him to drift off to sleep.
—————————————————————
The day that followed was filled with exploring the beauty of Florence. Vittorio was as giddy as a child as they toured countless museums, ate at multiple cafés, and just made up lost time together. It was impossible to be bored with the older man, his knowledge of this world was unlimited. David never found history interesting unless he was explaining it, he found himself getting lost in talks of the ancient battles he described; mesmerized by the artifacts he mentioned. Was there really a magical side of this world he could not see? Nay. Ancient gods don’t exist. Runes and magic were a thing of fiction… and yet, Vittorio had a way of making him believe in anything.
“Welcome back my lord,” Tarhos greeted them when they arrived back to the estate, holding the door open for them to enter.
“Cheers, mate.” David grinned as he followed Vittorio inside, Tarhos quietly shut the door behind them.
Turning to him, Vittorio held out a neatly folded paper bag towards the raven haired man, “We got your favourite~!”
“Thank you,” a deep hum resonated from within the tall, well-built man as he took the bag. “I will eat it later.” Tarhos’ face remained cold but his eyes conveyed his gratitude as he bowed before taking his leave.
“Orsetto…” the silver haired lead the Brit up the massive marble stairs in the center of the entry hall. “Tarhos and myself have somewhere we wish to take you this evening. I know it is something you shall greatly enjoy.”
“Yeah? It a fuckin’ pub?”
“Something along those lines, yes… but, far more exciting.” He stopped at the top of the stairs, turning to smile at him, “do wear something nice.”
“Bloody ‘ell, whatcha gettin’ me into?”
“It’s a surprise.”
Chapter Text
This is probably the nicest David had ever dressed, they were not even his clothes, but he filled them out well enough. Vittorio had rummaged through the luggage David had brought, desperately trying to find something suitable for the evening. The poor man came up empty handed, there being nothing but sweat pants, gym shorts, and t-shirts. It was no matter, the Italian had a magnificent time searching something to dress him in.
David’s muscles much larger than Vittorio’s, his back far more broad, it was not easy finding a shirt for him to fit into. His friend settled on a satin white button down tucked into black dress trousers, and black oxfords. Thankfully there was only a slight difference in their shoe size.
On the ride to this mysterious location, David rolled up the sleeves to sit right above his elbows. He then unbuttoned three of the top buttons, revealing more of his defined chest; these minor changes made the outfit more him. The man next to him was quick to take notice, whistling with a grin, “magnifico~!”
David scoffed playfully, turning his flustered face as far opposite the man as he could, “ya got me lookin’ bloody toff.”
“It suits you quite well, Caro~. I rather like seeing you in my clothes.”
“Piss off.”
“Mi fa molto piacere.”
David did not care to know what he said, Vittorio wasn’t the type to curse him anyway. He kept his back to the driver, gazing out into the night beyond. The city was somehow far more beautiful now than in the daylight. The soft glow of the street lamps and nearby windows danced along the river separating the city. If he was still a child he would not have hesitated to convince his mates to jump in. Now though, its stillness was breathtaking… yet, it unsettled him deeply. Perfection was unnatural.
Without warning Vittorio sharply turned down an alleyway, darkness enveloping them aside from the pale headlights. “Oi! Give a bloke a warnin’ next time!” The Italian only giggled at his surprise, actually bloody giggled. It was the most delightful sound that had ever met David’s ears, he could not maintain his anger for even a second. “Forgive me, Orsetto. I was lost in my own mind and almost missed the turn completely, quite embarrassing that is indeed.”
“It’s bugger all…” the Brit couldn’t help but wonder what had the older man so distracted, that was uncharacteristic of him.
They drove for only twenty minutes longer, the alley seemingly going on forever. “Ah~ we have arrived!” Vittorio discovered an open parking spot on the street, pulling in and withdrawing from the vehicle; David did the same. The man locked his incredible automobile and gestured for David to follow him. “Tarhos should be awaiting us within, I asked him to secure us a table.” They walked side by side down the dark cobblestone pavement. A moment later Vittorio lead him off the path, towards a tunnel made of stone, “mind your step, Orsetto.” David nodded, walking with more caution than before as they descended the roughly carved stone stairs.
They reached the end of the staircase, being greeted by bright, blood red double doors. Two intricate lanterns hung on either side of the rather gothic looking door frame, making the doors themself look wickedly ominous. Vittorio sighed happily, pulling out his leather wallet, the chain attached jingling softly as he searched for something within. He walked forward, withdrawing a silver card from the leather, scanning it on a hidden keypad beside the door. With a click, the door unlocked; it took no time for the Italian to open it for his friend.
“After you, amore~.”
“Cheers.”
Before he could even enter, a hypnotic smell invaded his being, cigars, cologne, and something tangy he could not quite determine. Excitement instantly took him captive as Vittorio lead him onward, walking at a leisurely pace so he could fully take in his surroundings. The lounge was incredibly vast, mahogany velvet curtains draped along the walls, framing the exquisite wallpaper in an elegant manner. The colossal ceilings held black crystal chandeliers suspended by chains, their live candles flickering calmly. Tables upon tables of well dressed gentlemen caught in quiet conversation filled the room, all either dining or gambling, cigars in hand. David’s gaze cast to the bar almost immediately, looking like a little piece of heaven in itself. “No, no, no, not yet, Orsetto.” Vittorio took hold of his arm, pulling him towards a table in the opposite corner of the room, earning him a disappointed grunt from the Englishman.
Tarhos was already seated at the table, nodding to the two of them in greeting as they took their seats, sliding both menus he acquired. “Rég nem lattam.” The candlelight from above cast an intimidating shadow on his face, defining his features in an appealing way.
“I apologize that we left you waiting for so long, I can trust you were not too bored?”
“Impossible to be bored here, my lord.”
David tuned out of their banter as he scanned the menu, eyes flicking back to the oh-so seductive bar occasionally. He flipped the menu, the back being split in half to section off cigars and wines. It had been years since he smoked, it wouldn’t hurt to have just one. His eyes then drifted to the top of the page, reading the elegantly written words, ‘Blake & Lamb’…so that is what this place was called. Interesting, he had certainly not heard of it before.
“Well, well, well… if it isn’t Lord Toscano.”
David jumped slightly, startled at the booming voice above him, he had not heard anyone approach. He looked to the man standing before their table, muscular- absolutely chiseled like a god even. Everything about him was HUGE, his skin was tanned and adorned with partially healed scars. He was bald but it was most definitely not from age, he could not have been above thirty.
“Ciao~ it has been quite some time, mister MacMillan.” Vittorio regarded him fondly. “To what do I owe this rare pleasure?”
MacMillan chuckled darkly, “Father decided it’s best I work in-house today. Suppose he thought I needed a little excitement. Though… you being here is truly the most exciting thing that’s happened thus far.”
“Flatter~” he winked at the beast of a man.
“Unfortunately though… and I do hate to inform you..” *he placed his large hands on the table in front of the Italian, leaning over him, “Your usual is not available this evening.”
The lord pouted, leaning on his propped up hand, eyes locked with the man above him, “Whatever shall I do~ I suppose I’ll have to settle for more… exotic cuisine.” The word was said almost seductively, a small smirk working its way on the edge of his lips. David subtly looked to Tarhos, flushing immediately when he realized the man was looking to him too, his silver eyes piercing his soul. His pale face was as emotionless as always, whispering something David could not hear over the soft music flowing from invisible speakers. Mister MacMillan retook their attention effortlessly, “Are you not going to introduce me to your guest?”
“Oh, where are my manners?” Vittorio waved his free hand in an elegant manner towards David, “This is David King, someone I hold in quite high regard.” His turquoise eyes studied the large man’s face, awaiting a certain reaction before he spoke again, “This is his first time in a place such as this, I am certain.” Vittorio slipped something unseen into the large man’s suit pocket, “now that you are here I know he is sure to have the grandest time~!”
Mister MacMillan grinned handsomely, tilting his head towards the Brit, “What’s your drink of choice, mister King?” His presence was overwhelming, David would have surely sunk in on himself had he not been, well, David King.
The Englishman perked up immediately at the question, perhaps answering a little too fast, “Ya got Boddingtons Bitter?”
“That.. we do not.”
“Pint o’ Heineken’s fine.” It was worth a shot.
Mister Macmillan nodded, pushing himself off the table carefully, heading to the bar to fulfill the man’s request. After waiting a only a few seconds David, turned to Vittorio, “Who the ‘ell was he?”
“That would be Evan MacMillan, Orsetto~” the greying man leaned back in the luxurious lounge chair royally, crossing his legs and tossing his head back; a random man placing a large cigar in the Lord’s mouth as he walked by. “He and his father own this wondrous establishment,” he continued, sliding guillotine cutters out of his pocket. Tarhos was swift to pull out a lighter, lighting the lord’s cigar for him after he cut it.
“He a Scot?”
The Italian hummed, “he does not hold such an accent… but it could have slipped away, he has been here quite some time.” He took a few puffs of the cigar, holding it towards the larger man seated next to him as he exhaled.
“His father’s accent is rather strong,” Tarhos added, taking what was handed to him.
“You have met his dear old father?” Vittorio asked unable to hide his shock.
Tarhos nodded in response, going silent.
Before either of them could press further Evan returned to the table, balancing a few drinks on a platter with one hand as if they were nothing. “Here you are, mister King.” He placed the frosty pint in front of the Englishman, receiving a wide smile in return. “I brought you something as well, lads- hope you won’t let them to go to waste.” He sat a brightly coloured cocktail in front of Vittorio and what appeared to be a martini in front of Tarhos. David couldn’t help but catch the look Evan gave the long-haired man at Vittorio’s side, something almost along the lines of a glare.
“As thoughtful as always, Mister MacMillan. Grazie~!” He retrieved it from the table with grace, tasting it with a small sip. “My, my~ your bartender has gotten better.”
“I’ll let him know you said that.”
David thanked the man, downing the cold lager in a matter of moments. “Bloody ‘ell,” he licked his lips, removing the large glass from them.
“It was to your liking, I take it?”
“How the ‘ell did ya make it taste bettah than it usually is, eh?”
“It seems our bartender must be on to some magical shit tonight,” the man joked. He paused, pulling an envelope from his back pocket, “well, I must leave you gents be for now. Enjoy your drinks.” He looked to David, “I shall have one of the boys bring you another beer.” After handing the blood-red parchment to Vittorio and taking up David’s empty mug, he bowed, departing from the table once more.
Humming to himself, the Italian opened the letter, examining the card within as he released it from its confines. David watched as the man’s eyes lit up, taking in every detail of the paper in his painted, jeweled fingers. “Orsetto,” he addressed him without looking to see if he was acknowledged, “do you have a certain type?”
“W-What?”
“In men, amore.”
“I…” he contemplates the question for a moment, weighing the similarities of Tristan and the much handsomer man before him. “Nah, I don’t.”
“I see,” Vittorio shifted in his seat, sitting up to reach over the table, handing the card to the Brit. “Tell me, Orsetto… of these fetching gentlemen, which do you fancy the most?”
The Englishman felt his heart stutter at the question, his gaze falling to the card now between his fingers. He was met with portraits of unfamiliar faces, Roman numerals under each. Every man featured was vastly different, however each wore the same emotionless expression. David’s eyes flicked between them, studying their features till his eyes landed on one towards the bottom of the letter. The man was young, certainly not over the age of twenty-five, his round face looked so fragile, his pale skin unmarked and flawless. His big brown eyes were like that of a puppy, framed with thick black glasses, holding nothing but innocence. “Twelve,” David replied simply, handing back the parchment.
“Is that so? I suppose I can understand the appeal~.” The older man retrieved a pen from the inside of his suit, circling two numbers on the letter before sliding it back into its envelope. He handed it over to Tarhos who was still silently enjoying the cigar, his martini finished long ago.
“The ‘ell ya doin’?” David watched anxiously as the man arose, leaving the two of them alone without reply.
“Leave him be, amore.” Stirring his drink, the Italian gave David a comforting smile, “I only wish to spoil you.”
He felt heat spread throughout his whole body at the words, feeling ten times hotter than he was before. “I… don’t nee-“ he trailed off, the world around him seemed to shift slightly, numbing coldness frighting to overtake his senses. He desperately tried to blink away the fog creeping up upon his vision, yet it only worsened.
“Blimey…” leaning forward, he buried his face in his hands, his fingertips tingling from the numbness. He could hear worried, muffled words beyond him, but nothing made sense. Had that beer been too much for him? Hell no… he’d go through six of those at a time on regular.. why was he feeling this way? He should be panicking and yet his heart remained uncomprehendingly steady, almost too slow.
—————————————————————
The next thing he knew he was stumbling down a corridor, the red lights above far too bright for his liking. There was a weight on his shoulders, an enormous muscular arm guiding him onwards, trying so very hard to keep him steady.
They stopped. Though for David the world kept swaying.
There was a jingle of keys.
The click of a lock.
The creak of a door.
Quiet sniffling.
A noise of impact.
A yelp.
More mumbled words.
Then the Englishman felt all weight remove itself from him as he fell forward, landing on something soft and silky. With a groan he sluggishly flipped himself over, lying on his back to try to see where he had found himself located; just more clouded shades of red and black. He turned his head slightly, delicate words drawling his attention. A blurry pale figure resided next to him, leaning over his form, hair short and black. David lifted a hand, placing it on the figure’s chest- this was no woman.
Soft hands caressed his face, velvety lips planted loving kisses along his neck and the exposed parts of his chest for what felt like hours. He felt a light weight lower upon his hips, the figure now being directly before him. With much effort, round doe eyes became visible to him, scanning David’s body nervously; his hands hovering above the buttons on David’s shirt.
No.
He had to get out of here.
He wasn’t ready for something like this.
Gritting his teeth, David tried to muster up as much strength as he could manage, balling up his fists. He swung with all his might, the impact hitting directly, sending a thunderous crack echoing throughout the room. The man above him jolted, but it was not enough to remove him from his position. He brought a trembling hand to his deeply reddened cheek, tears beginning to stream down his round face, blood dripping from his nose onto David’s shirt below. The stranger’s body began to shake as he cried in earnest, curling in on himself above the Englishman.
David couldn’t help but feel a small pang of guilt as the man cried, he tried to reach out to comfort him but his numb limbs finally failed him. “‘ey… ‘m sorry…” He slurred out, even his mouth wouldn’t do exactly as he wished. The smaller man proceeded to sob before him, hands covering his precious face to muffle the sound.
There was a sudden commanding voice coming from a place beyond sight, making the small man tense.
“Continue.”
The still blurry man frantically tried to regain his composure, wiping his tears and blood away as best he could with his arm. He then began working at the buttons on David’s bloodied shirt, opening it to fully reveal his toned chest but not trying to remove it completely. David closed his eyes tightly, shaking his head as the man above him lifted himself up, undoing David’s belt and trousers. “D-Don’t…” his pleas were ignored, his cock soon being released from the confines of his boxers.
Slightly numb pleasure began to course through him as the stranger worked him to hardness, moving his soft yet firm hand in expert motion. Tears prickled at the corner of his eyes when he felt the man shift, beginning to align himself when his hardness satisfied him. Against David’s will his member twitched against the wet, prepared hole in anticipation.
“Please forgive me,” the man above whispered before lowering himself onto the Brit’s cock slowly.
David could not contain the pleasurable noise that escaped him, his body savoring the warmth and tightness of the other man as it fought to regain its senses. The stranger released a sound close to a whimper as he began to find his rhythm, moving his hips just enough to let David feel every part within him. He started off slow, pleasing himself at a leisurely pace as his body adjusted to David’s large member. Once he was sure in his confidence, he placed his soft hands on the larger man’s chest, steadying himself as he picked up his pace, obscene noises leaving his throat. David himself was a flushed, groaning mess beneath him, he had never experienced something so wrong.. or anything that had felt so good. What he would have given to be able to flip the younger man over and ravage his delicate body in turn. He wondered to himself, would he be the type that would cry out and beg for more?
His pleasure unexpectedly amplified, the man having leaned down to swirl his satin tongue on one of David’s nipples, his pale fingers pinching the other as he rode him. It was all become too much for the Brit. He could feel himself reaching completion when the tongue was abruptly replaced with teeth, biting down on the sensitive area. Extreme rapture seized him at the act, his numbed body seizing from the overwhelming pleasure of his release. He panted beneath the other man, finally opening his eyes to look at him.
David’s cock remained inside of him, softening as the pale man lay on top of his heaving chest, his face hidden. Some things were still a blur but little by little details came back into focus.
He just had sex with a man…
And it was magnificent.
No.
It shouldn’t be.
He was just RAPED by a man.
Aye.
It wasn’t his fault. He wouldn’t have done something like this had it been his choice.
Right?
He wouldn’t have fucked Tristan, would he?
He’d never allow himself to have Vittorio.
Why did he suddenly feel so guilty?!
“A-Are you okay?” The soft voice broke him from his thoughts. His eyes met the concerned ones in front of him, seeming to squint at him as if he couldn’t see. David eyed the deep purple bruise he had given the man and the dried blood caked under his nose.
Yeah. He did his best. He tried to stop it.
“What d’ya bloody think?” He growled, his voice still wavering as his breathing calmed. God, he just wanted to sleep… maybe he’d wake up and this would have all been a nightmare… or… a dream?
Then man was silent a moment- then, without warning, the damn broke and he was right back to sobbing disarray. He clutched at David’s shoulders, holding on for dear life as he cried, forehead against David’s chest; apologizing over and over and over again.
David simply sighed, closing his eyes once more, “ ‘s fine. Just shut up and let me sleep.” After a moment the smaller man obeyed, sniffling as quietly as he could as the Brit drifted off.
Future David could deal with whatever the fuck this was.
Notes:
I have obviously never written smut.. this shite is arse. Ah well, I canny help what the Deftones has done tae me.
Chapter 3: A Desire To Return
Notes:
Tarhos would %100 be intae crusader metal in the modern world… and he would play a paladin in World of Warcraft
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The blinding sun pierced his eyes as they attempted opening, its heat scorching his skin. Lifting his hand, he shielded his face from its unrelenting gaze, using nothing but his abs to sit upright. His head pounded with the most intense headache he had ever experienced, provoking a groan to fall from his chapped lips. “W..where the ‘ell…” he held his throbbing head with his free hand, trying to make out his surroundings.
The river sparkled before him, the sun dancing off its surface like golden fairies. His mind went blank, continuing to stare at the peaceful waters, he knew not how he got here but he was certainly in no rush to leave. The water was almost hypnotizing, begging him to enter its depths. David arose from the grassy earth, giving into temptation as he stepped towards the edge.
“There you are.”
David turned swiftly towards the voice, wincing at the increase the sudden movement gave his headache. Above him, leaning against the black iron rails that separated the street from the river’s bank was Tarhos, holding back the hair threatening to blow in his face. The man was dressed far more casually than David had seen him in before, sporting a Sabaton tank top, jeans, and black converse.
“Toscano has been frantic, David. Where have you been?” His voice showed little concern, remaining the same pitch with each word.
David just stared at him, he had no answer. He had no idea where he had been, how he ended up here, or even how long he had been gone. Tarhos picked up on his disorientation, sighing and gesturing for David to join him on the wall. He swiftly obeyed, walking over to the other, hoisting himself up over the brick wall and climbing over the railing.
Tarhos’ silver eyes scanned him, “what happened to your clothes?”
“Huh?” David looked down, sure enough his clothes were a wreck. The satin shirt was stained with random splotches of reddish brown, barely tucked into the black trousers which were covered in mud, his shoes- no where to be found. “Blimey…musta been bloody plastered…”
Tarhos looked around, then quickly started walking away from the man. “Come on, let’s get to the estate before too many people see you.”
“Aye.”
—————————————————————
David stood outside exquisite carved double doors, listening. The man within was yelling something in his native language, evidently in a foul mood. He considered leaving it be but, if what Tarhos said was true his disappearance was the reason for the man within’s rage. It would be better to get this conversation over with now.
He did not bother to knock, opening the door quietly to let himself inside the man’s private study, making sure to lock it behind him. The older man was pacing by the large window, the setting sun outlining his body in golden light, making the long indigo silk robe that adorned him glisten like sapphires. His face was etched with worry as he spoke to the person rather brashly over the phone, his yelling having calmed slightly. David had never seen him in such a state, it was strangely euphoric.
Gathering up his nerves, the Englishman approached, clearing his throat to get the other man’s attention. Vittorio turned with a glare, which softened immediately on recognition, “A-Amore!!” Phone slipping from his grasp he closed the space between them in a blink, cupping David’s face in his partially calloused hands. “Where have you been, Orsetto?! I-It’s been..” He swallowed thickly, not allowing himself to weep, “it has been days!”
“Days?!” David stared at him in shock.
The older man nodded rather frantically, “Sì! I have not slept! I have had everyone I know searching for you!” His grip tightened faintly on the Englishman’s face, their eyes locked, “I-I.. feared you dead.”
In an instant, David wrapped an arm around Vittorio’s waist, pulling him to himself, his other hand cradling the man’s skull. “I feel like part o’ me is dead.” His fingers brushed through the man’s wavy, silver hair. “Sumthin’ is missin’.”
“What do you mean, Orsetto?” His voice filled with concern, “what has happened to you?” His hands having drifted away from the Brit’s face, landed on his chest. That’s when he took notice of the small dark bruises speckled along the Englishman’s neck, trailing downwards.
The room filled with uncomfortable silence for far too long.
“Ah. So you did have a bit of fun,” his eyes darkened as he traced a finger along the hickeys. “I was told you had gone home.”
“I beg your pardon?” David gaze fell to his own body, trying to see what had caught the lord’s attention. He was able to see a few of the small bruises that marred his skin. “What the bloody ‘ell??” He released the man, pushing him away carefully, before walking over the large mirror situated between shelves of books and antiques.
His appearance was in absolute shambles, his blood running cold at the sight of the bruises, he could not for the life of him remember how he obtained them. Combing his fingers through his messy hair, he examined himself further; desperately searching his memory for answers. The last thing he remembered was the lounge, the cool beer, the red envelope… “Vitto.”
The tired man came up from behind him, leaning his head against David’s shoulder, “Sì, amore mio?” His expression was unreadable, transfixed on David’s form in the mirror.
“Who told ya I had gone home?”
“Dearest Enzo, the bartender. I knew he would be the one to ask… you were practically making love to him when I saw you last.”
He remembered the bartender, they had shared a glance when he first entered the club. David never really favored gingers.
“I would not be surprised if you two snuck away together… it would be quite the clever move on your part, Orsetto.” He let out a sigh, bringing his hand up to fiddle with the fabric of David’s ruined shirt. “I truly just wish you would have phoned me to let me know… would have saved me from the worry.”
Is that really what had happened?
Had he snuck off to fuck the bartender?
Surely he would have remembered… and would that have taken days to recover from?
“Sorry…” he turned towards the older man, head bowed in shame, eyes averted from the other’s. “I don’t remember shite.” He did feel dreadful, mostly from not know why he neglected to call him.. he prayed his memory would return to him so he could apologize properly.
“You know I’ll always forgive you, amore.” Lifting David’s chin with a single finger, he placed a wee kiss on the man’s cheek, “maybe you shall even find a way to make it up to me.”
Flustered beyond reason, David went to react but was swiftly stopped by the other. “Not now though, Orsetto. You dreadfully need a shower and a meal, are you not famished?”
He was indeed extremely weak as if he had not eaten for quite some time.
He nodded, “bloody starvin’.”
The lord turned from him, heading for the door, luxurious silks trailing behind him elegantly, “I shall prepare you something of substance, you go clean yourself up. Do take your time.”
“Cheers, mate.”
—————————————————————
Innocent, teary eyes looked back at him in a pleading manner as the pale, bound body was rocked back and forth below him. David had a firm grip on the man’s hair, holding his head down against the mattress as he thrust into the piteous man’s arse at an unrelenting pace. His fingers dug into the man’s hip in an attempt to steady him, blood pooling around his fingertips, dripping down the puppy-eyed lad’s bruised sides. Perhaps David should feel bad about hurting this man in such a way, but he didn’t. In fact, he felt the opposite.
He relished in it.
Much earlier David had been a comfort to the man as they beat him, something for him to grasp onto, scream into. With every lash they inflicted he would attempt to bury himself deeper into the paralyzed man at which he held. He had begged uselessly for him to stop them, but what could he have done? The American is the one who inserted the syringe all those hours ago, injecting whatever had rendered his body useless once more. He could only watch in horror as they punished him, made him pay for the unknown sin he had committed against them. Those vile, well dressed strangers were still here. Watching the way David fucked him mercilessly. For some reason, that seemed to spur him on.
Although the Englishman did not fancy the mystery drug they decided to shove down his throat he was grateful to finally have control of his own limbs. It even felt like he had been given more power than ever before.
He tightened his grip further on the man’s hair yanking his head back suddenly, pulling him against his body. His dick disappeared fully inside of him, the sensation mind-numbingly incredible. The man screamed hoarsely through his gag as the rough rope he was bound in scraped against the scabbing wounds on his back with each and every thrust.
“Choke him,” one of the stranger’s voices demanded. David was more than happy to oblige.
The hand on the lad’s hip removed itself, sliding up his soft, malnourished body. The man cried out in panic as it snaked around his throat, but David did not keep it there. He instantly replaced it with his bicep, his other hand releasing his bloodied scalp as he put the man in a headlock. It did not take much force for the boy’s airflow to be cut off. Pathetic noises escaped him as he fought so desperately to breathe, the display would have broken David’s heart had his mind not been clouded from the pleasure it brought him. With every attempted struggle the man tightened around his cock, causing his thrusts to become erratic, his pleasure reaching its peak.
But no.
Not yet.
He loosened his hold slightly, allowing the man a moment to breathe. Tears flowed freely down his partially reddened face as he coughed from taking in too much air at once, the other half remained purplish blue from where David had socked him. His whole body trembled in David’s arms as he balanced on his toes to keep himself on the Englishman’s level.
David breathed heavily as he brought the man closer to himself, whispering into his ear, “cum for me… let’s give these posh fucks a bloody show.” Chills ran throughout the American’s body, David’s stubble tickling his ear as he nodded in reply.
“That’s a good lad.”
In an instant David abruptly flexed his bicep once more, leaning back slightly he lifted the man from the ground as he savagely fucked up into him, hitting the spot he learned would usually make the man moan the loudest. The dimly-lit room filled with David’s almost pornographic noises as he reached his climax, filling the choking man with his seed. As he did so, he felt the doe-eyed lad constrict around him, his body shuddering as he came onto the concrete floor below.
Slackening his hold and lowering the man back to the safety of the cold floor, he pulled himself out as he caught his breath, watching the bound man sink to his knees on the concrete. The Italian men seemed to be star struck at the spectacle but not a single word they said soon after reached David’s ears. The battered lad had his full attention. With his back facing the larger man he trembled on the floor, head bowed as he tried to collect himself.
David knelt down behind him, grabbing ahold of the ropes digging into his fragile skin. The American stiffened, slowly looking over his shoulder towards the man behind him, eyes wide with anxious fear. David remained quiet as he released the lad’s purpled, bloodless hands, beginning to work up the rest of his rope-burned arms. Before he could loosen another knot the younger man made a muffled noise through the gag.
There was no time for David to process his warning before there was a cold sting in his neck, “….sod off.” He sucked in air through his teeth as he whipped his body around, grabbing ahold of the suited man’s wrist. He gripped it with his full strength then pulled the man down towards him rapidly, giving him a devastating Glasgow kiss. The sound itself was enough to make him wince. The man’s body fell to the ground with a thud, the syringe following shortly after.
He sighed, swaying as arose from his kneeling position, was his lack of balance from the impact or the drug? He looked upon the remaining spectators with
out-of-focus vision, all of them wide eyed and oozing hesitation.
“Bloody.. gormless pricks.. the lot o’ ya..”
—————————————————————
He awoke with a gasp, hand instinctively flying to his neck. What the hell was that.. a nightmare…? A… memory? Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
It was so incredibly fucked…
And yet…
So unimaginably hot.
He slammed a fist against his forehead trying to block out the scene playing on repeat in his mind’s eye. He growled to himself in frustration as the details only became more vivid.
“Are you always this violent when you first awaken, Orsetto?”
David jumped at the man’s voice, turning his head far too fast to look at him. Vittorio lay beside him in the elegant bed he didn’t recognize, his robe only partially on, framing his perfect body.
“How the ‘ell did I get in ‘ere?”
“That is quite simple really…” the man turned over on his side, propping himself up on his elbow to lean over the Brit slightly. “I do believe you walked.”
David gave him an unamused look.
He let out a pleasant chuckle, “after you ate, you and Tarhos decided it would be a laugh to see who could the most before blacking out…”
“Who-“
“I was the victor,” Tarhos popped his head up from the other side of Vittorio’s body, his face almost fully concealed behind his dark locks. There was a wee sense of pride in his voice.
“Nah! That’s rubbish! Ya couldn’t beat me even if I-…” it finally registered. “WHAT THE BLOODY FUCK?!?!” He practically jumped out of the bed, face flushed crimson. Both of their gazes followed him.
He took a moment to calm down before turning back towards them, brows furrowed in concern. “W-We didn’t….” he stammered, “Ya know…?”
Vittorio blinked innocently, “whatever could you mean, amore?”
“Shag.”
The Italian smiled brightly, “but of course not, Orsetto~! I do hope that would be something you would remember.” His beautiful eyes drifted downwards, spying David’s very obvious bulge straining against his gym shorts. “Though… that idea does appear to interest you, yes?”
Tarhos hummed behind the older man, biting his neck possessively- eyes locked with David’s.
The tension in the room reached astronomical levels as he sized up the rather large man a moment, wondering how easily he could overpower him if he desired to. He knew pressure points well if things got t-
“I will not have you two fight like bambinos over me, I find that quite unattractive.” The man flicked Tarhos’ forehead getting him to release his hold on him.
“Be you so afraid of entertainment, my lord?” Tarhos’ voice rumbled as he slid himself out of the bed.
“Belligerence is not entertaining, Piccolo Cavaliere.”
Tarhos said nothing more as he left the massive bedroom. Vittorio sighed, turning his attention back to David who had not moved from the side of the bed, “you look troubled, amore.” Troubled was an understatement. He had way too much on his mind. When David made no reply the lord patted the mattress beside him, inviting him over. He relented immediately, crawling to the man that summoned him. He needed answers but he had a strange feeling he needed to play it wisely.
Removing the satin covers from him, he placed himself in between the man’s partially opened legs. He slid his rough, calloused hands down on either side of his thighs, pulling him close ‘til his arse was flush against David’s crotch.
Removing the indigo silks from his shoulders, Vittorio leaned against the ivory headboard, his body whispering temptation. The mosaic lamps that lit the room illuminated his form, painting him in radiant colours that bewitched the younger man in his splendor. “Tell me what you desire and it shall be yours.”
David broke himself from his trance, leaning down to plant kisses along this divine being’s prominent clavicles. “I can ask for anythin’?” He changed course, making a trail upwards.
Vittorio’s breath hitched, the sensation of David’s tongue exploring the sensitive skin surrounding his gages overtook him. It was so simple, yet so very pleasant. “Sì~” he quavered breathlessly, “anything, amore.”
The Englishman withdrew ‘til they were looking into each other’s eyes, desire and anticipation enslaving them. David’s fingers found themselves intertwined in silvery hair, brushing through the curls momentarily. Leaning into the touch, the Italian closed his eyes in expectant submission. Something about the man’s trust in him filled David with a sense of satisfaction, however it could not deter him, he had already made up his mind.
His fingers reinforced their hold, grabbing a fistful of the man’s hair he pulled him into a passionate, long awaited kiss. His lips were softer than he could have ever imagined, his taste simply intoxicating. He closed his eyes, part of him trying to block out all else besides what was here in this moment, the other part fighting to remain grounded. He felt arms wrapping around him, pulling him closer, nails dragging along his clothed back. Their lips parted for a moment, both catching their breath.
“Mmmm… amore… I have waited so.. so long..” he admitted between breaths.
The more experienced man slid his tongue along the Brit’s bottom lip, nipping at it gingerly before guiding him back into desperate reunion.
An exhilarating heat spread throughout the Englishman’s body as he felt Vittorio’s hips begin to move, grinding down against his crotch; almost pleadingly.
Even though his heart and absolutely everything else fought him, his resolution remained strong. He pulled away from the kiss, burying his face in the other man’s neck as he whispered to him.
“Take me back to the Blake & Lamb.”
Notes:
Commas are like pet ants… I have far too many.
Chapter 4: An Angel In A Concrete Cage
Notes:
This will maybe be deleted later. I got a wee grossed oot. Enjoy, I suppose~
¿Trigger warning?
[Edit: I’ve been convinced by a higher power to keep it.]
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The rustle of leaves resounded through his studio apartment as crisp autumn wind blew in through the open window. The rising sun illuminated his room in glorious amber light making the moment feel like an ethereal dream. He had been awake for quite some time but did not dare leave the warm comfort of his bed. Today was the first day off he had in months, and he didn’t have to be somewhere for another four hours, he could take a moment to admire the simple morning.
There was a soft thump behind him, the mattress giving in a bit as something approached. A moment passed, then a rather heavy weight balanced itself on his arm. He turned his head to observe the creature which had failed at ambushing him. “Good morning, Anduin~” he serenaded to the marigold coloured Persian sweetly. The cat meowed gruffly in reply, pressing his smooshed face against the man’s glasses. “I bet you’re hungry aren’t you?” His loud purrs were enough of an answer for him.
He sat up in the bed, stretching with a yawn before sliding off to plant his feet on the cold hardwood. The morning was chilly but bearable, he preferred the cold over the scalding, humid summers anyway.
Anduin followed closely behind him to the kitchenette, hopping upon the small counter gracefully to await his meal. Dwight opened the cabinet, scanning the cans, he liked giving the cat a different one every day. No one liked eating the same meal consistently. After making his decision he plucked it from the shelf, popping the can open and emptying it onto the cat’s plate with a spoon. The feline meowed in thanks before beginning to eat like he had been starving his whole life.
This orange cloud was his world, the only friend he really had in this town. The one who had saved him from the brink more than once.
He could already feel himself start to miss him as he ran his fingers through his fur. “It’ll only be three days! You’ll be fine without me for a little, right?” The cat ignored him, his entire being focused on the food before him that he just knew would disappear if he stopped indulging in it for a single second.
The doe-eyed boy let the beastie be, hearing his phone ping from his bedside, excitement filling him immediately. He only had one friend that would be up at this hour. Seizing the phone from the shelf, he plopped down on his plush bed. The notification on the screen had him grinning from ear to ear.
‘Happy Birthday ❤️ can’t wait to see u.’
He typed back immediately.
‘Thank you! Im so excited and nervous!’
‘Don’t be nervous’
‘It’s just me.’
‘It’ll be fun’
‘I promise’
He couldn’t help that his stomach was tying itself in knots. He had never met one of his gamer buddies in real life before… especially not one he had a crush on. He didn’t even know what the man looked like, but he also did not care- Dwight was a firm believer in there being more to a person than their looks. Hopefully the other man believed the same. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his anxiety before typing back.
‘I know it will be ☺️’
‘And I can’t wait to finally meet you!’
‘Oh!!’
‘I made sure to pack my controller!’
He did right? He jumped to his feet, checking his suitcase for the thirtieth time to see if he had truly remembered it; he did. Everything was in order and everything was going to be fine! He totally wouldn’t embarrass himself in front of this guy and it’s not like they were going to be sleeping in the same bed when he got there! It would just be casual, friends hanging out and gaming… just in closer proximity! Nothing to fear.
An hour had passed, he went through his checklist multiple times making sure he had not forgotten a thing. He wrote a quick note to his neighbor who was supposed to come feed Anduin, placing it by the cans of cat food he had stacked on the counter along with some cash. He showered his beloved feline with kisses, feeding him possibly too many treats as he held him close.
“I’m going to miss you so much, buddy,” he fought back tears as he released the cat. Anduin meowed up at him, rubbing his body against the man’s jeans, circling his leg.
Dwight bent down, petting him once more before heading to the door with his suitcase and backpack. Opening the door, he looked back to give the cat a smile, “don’t have any girls over while I’m gone!” With that he locked up his apartment, placing a spare key underneath the doormat for his neighbor before heading to his car. The airport was only half an hour away but the email said to be there two hours early. It was no issue to him, of course, he had plenty of entertainment at the ready.
—————————————————————
The airport was packed with people, too many for the man’s liking. He always hated crowds, fearing he would get in someone’s way or bump into them. Staying along the edges of the walls was always the best option for these kinds of situations.
His shoulder was basically dragging against the white tile walls as he searched for his terminal, suitcase trailing close behind. He had never been to an airport before, it frightened him, but he had done his research to make sure he did not get lost. Maps were available too, he remembered.
After checking in, he searched for an open seat in the lobby, trying to find one possibly not surrounded by so many people. It was a struggle but he eventually spied a corner seat to disappear into. He practically sprinted to it, claiming the cold plastic as his own as he sat. He pulled his suitcase beside himself, bringing his backpack into his lap to search for his earbuds. He typed out a quick text to his crush as he inserted the small devices into his ears.
‘I made it to the airport! Just a few hours left! I can’t believe this is really happening’
Soon he was enjoying a film he hadn’t seen since he was a boy, smiling to himself when he’d remember the things his childhood friends would say during certain scenes. He missed some of them. God, how he wished his father wouldn’t have made them move. He could go back now that he lived on his own anyway, but they weren’t there. They were nothing but a memory now.
He was suddenly pulled from his nostalgia, one of his earbuds being carefully removed, an arm wrapping around his shoulders. There was a hot breath against his ear, a predatory whisper.
“Stay calm. Make even a single sound and I’ll break that pretty little neck of yours.”
His blood ran cold, his fear paralyzing him. He couldn’t even turn his head as his phone was taken from him.
The world seemed to go deathly silent aside from his pounding heart and the stranger’s sonorous voice.
“What a good listener you are.”
He felt the man’s thumb run along his nape, petting him almost fondly.
“You’re going to be a good boy and come with me. Don’t even think about running.”
The man’s middle finger traced along the boy’s throat as he continued, “unless of course you want me to flay that little cat of yours and feed it to you.”
Trembling, he fought back a sob as he nodded slowly, letting the man know he would comply. His eyes remained forward, wide and staring into the nothing. How did he know about Anduin? Had… had he been following him this whole time?
This wasn’t happening.
He couldn’t breathe.
“God. You’re almost too easy.”
The man stood up, bringing the younger lad up with him. He took up the boy’s backpack, holding it by the handle as he swung it over his back. Dwight reached a shaky hand out towards his suitcase but it was soon kicked only slightly out of his reach. “Leave it.”
The stranger’s cold, slender fingers of his free hand intertwined with Dwight’s, his grip bone-breakingly tight as he lead him through the airport. “Steady your fucking breathing.”
He tried his best to obey.
—————————————————————
His eyes remained on the floor the whole time they were in the air. He didn’t know where they were going but it had been hours, the sun having said its farewell long ago. He had chewed so much skin from his thumb, blood was trailing down his pale, quivering arm. His nerves were shot and his body exhausted from the constant tension. He was in a never ending battle with an anxiety attack since they took off.
“This is the kinda shit that’s gonna get you beat.” The man beside him snapped with a lowered voice, yanking the hand from the boy’s mouth to clean up the blood before anyone else saw the mess he made of himself. Dwight shuddered at his words, praying they were just trying to scare him further into surrender.
—————————————————————
Stumbling down the rough stone stairs, his captor caught him by the back of his t-shirt before he made contact with the ground, pulling him back to his feet. “You tryna crack your fucking skull open?” Dwight shook his head frantically. The man chuckled, urging him forward once more. “You would have been thanking me in the afterlife if I let you.”
Ominous red doors lay before them, the lantern lights beckoning them to enter their hell. There was the sound of an electronic click before their depths were opened to the handcuffed boy. His captor pushed him inside, taking a handful of the back of his shirt to guide him through the dark hallway. The sound of freedom closing behind him only brought him further hopelessness; he had missed his last chance.
He was lead through a large lounge area, completely empty of patrons, then behind a large velvet curtain which revealed another hall. Doors on both sides lined the walls, the hallway seemingly going on for forever.
Once more, he found himself unable to breathe.
His ears rang from the severity of his heartbeat as he was shoved into one of the rooms. It looked to be made of pure concrete aside from one wall which was just a huge mirror. There was a decently sized bed in the middle, a red light down shining above it. Lounge chairs and a round table were in the corner facing the bed.
He almost yelped when the door was reopened, his captor turning him to face the
impossibly large, bald man that had entered. His presence was dominant and terrifying. “Got your little lamb~,” his captor almost sang.
“I see that.” Loud footsteps signaled the man’s approach, giving Dwight little time to react as his jaw was grabbed unnecessarily hard. The large man forced his gaze upwards, turning his head from side to side, examining him in great detail.
“Well? What do you think?” His captor had since removed his hand from the boy’s shirt, standing closer to the new stranger that had entered.
“He fulfills the request almost perfectly.” The bald man’s free hand reached to his shirt, lifting it slightly, eliciting Dwight to quake under his scrutiny. “Though, he is overweight.”
“Easy fix. His ass makes up for it anyway.”
“How bad is his eyesight?”
“He’s fucking blind without the glasses. But, that could be used to your advantage.”
What were they saying? They were acting as if he was just some livestock. Like he wasn’t even human. He himself couldn’t even look at their faces, couldn’t allow himself to accept that other humans could do this to someone.
“Good work, Daniel.” The huge man pulled a red envelope from his back pocket, handing it to the other.
“Thank ya, bossman~!” The envelope disappeared into his black jacket as he began to make his exit. “Wish you’d let me be the one to break him in though,” he sighed, “but I know how you are about your damn virgins.”
“They are in high demand.”
The words made him snap, they couldn’t do this. No! He had to go home!
His panic reached its limit.
His adrenaline gave him strength he didn’t know he had as he tore his jaw from the man’s grasp, sinking his teeth into his hand.
The man growled in response, reaching for his neck but came up empty handed as Dwight dropped to his haunches, the taste of iron on his tongue. He was unable to stop himself from hyperventilating as his panic attack took hold.
He had to escape.
He just needed to make it to the door.
He avoided the man above him’s hand once more before rising to full height, bolting for the door.
He was so scared.
No.
He was fucking terrified.
The air was stolen from his lungs when his body was slammed brutally against the concrete floor, the sound of his glasses shattering barely reached his ears. He sobbed as his cheek was ground against the grainy surface, a warm wetness soaking the front of his jeans.
The man on top of him- Daniel, took quick notice. “Awww. Poor thing’s pissed himself~” he took hold of his skull, lifting it up slightly before reuniting it with the floor, “just like a frightened little puppy.”
“Stop damaging the merchandise, prick. I paid you now get out.”
“Oh come oooon, Evan~ I just stopped him from escaping. Let me have my fun.”
“You really think he would have been able to open the door with his hands cuffed behind his back?” The ginormous man scoffed, “you’re more foolish than I originally believed.”
The man removed himself from Dwight’s trembling, hysterical form. “That would make you the bigger fool for trusting me with such a task. Kidnapping is a well thought out process, you know?”
“Don’t care. Get out. I’ll call you if I require your services again.”
“I’ll make sure NOT to answer. Later, Macmillan.” Dwight heard the man stop at the door but could see nothing aside from the cracked black lenses of his glasses lying in front of him. “Oh! I almost forgot!” A photograph was held before his eyes, he strained to see it through his tears- it was his neighbor. The boy paled, his crying ceasing for just a moment as he stared in horror. She had been completely gutted, intestines stung out in a beautiful display of gore. “Happy Birthday, Baby.”
—————————————————————
He had rubbed his wrists raw trying to pull himself free of the ropes that tied his hands together above his head; one of the bed frame’s iron bars holding him there. He had not been given a new pair of clothes after they bathed him and the room was uncomfortably cold. He should be taking this time to plan his escape, to think about how he was going to make sure these men were turned in to the police. Yet, all he could think of was Jed waiting at the airport for him. Checking his phone every minute in hopes of receiving a text to let him know he’d arrived… or at least let him know why he had not shown up. They had planned that trip for a week, they had already bought the tickets for the con they planned on going to. It was supposed to be the perfect weekend to get to know each other more personally. Oh, how stupid he was to think he finally deserved something good to happen to him. Now here was, naked, scared, and completely alone.
He did not dare allow himself to think about Anduin. With his neighbor being… gone.. who would feed the poor creature? No. Stop. Don’t think about it.
The exhausted man had finally allowed himself to fall asleep when the creak of the door opening startled him to awareness. Thankfully, he had been given the spare pair of glasses he had packed that Evan found in his backpack so he could see who approached. Or maybe he wasn’t thankful… maybe it would have been better not to see them. Evan was back with a long black box under his arm, holding open the door for the other man to enter. He was a corpulent older man well into his fifties. Though he was nicely dressed he appeared to not have showered in weeks. Dwight brought his legs to himself in an attempt to cover himself when he saw the look in the man’s eyes, hunger and desire.
“Here he is,” Evan started, making his way to the bed side. “We brought him in this morning so we haven’t added him to the lineup yet. I know he’s not as skinny as you usually prefer.. but, I thought it best I show you anyway.”
“He…still has his virginity?” The man asked, sounding out of breath as he too approached the bed the trembling man was on. His accent was rich but Dwight had never heard anything like it, not even in movies.
“He does indeed. We have very trustworthy sources, as you well know.”
A clammy hand was reached out towards his thigh leading him to instinctively flinch away from the touch, frightened eyes begging silently just to be left alone.
“He’s perfect.” The man pulled his hand back, taking out his check book. Evan handed him a pen from the inside of his suit. “I’ll take him for the rest of the night. Say… eight hours?”
“As you wish, sir.”
With Evan paid and the box placed on the bed he left the room, leaving Dwight alone with the old man. The doe-eyed boy instantly attempted to get the man on his side. “S-Sir! I’m not supposed to be in h-here! I-I-I was kidnapped… I need to get home! I have someone wh… who needs me!”
“Shh shh shh.. daddy will make it all better.” He was seated on the edge of the bed rummaging through the mysterious box, completely unphased by the boy’s confession.
This guy didn’t care… why didn’t he care?!
“Since it’s your first time, we are going to start small… I will work you up to my size.”
“W-What do you mean…?” His eyes were on the box, fearing whatever could be revealed to him.
“You know, you should thank me for taking my time to train you. I am such a busy man.” He pulled a riding crop from the box, bending it to test its reliability before looking to the lad expectantly.
His eyes went from the repulsive man to the crop then back. “Thank y-you?” That’s what he wanted to hear right?
It was not.
He received a swift whip to the outer thigh, causing to him to yelp in surprise. It was light, a warning.
“Close. Try again, lovely.”
“Thank you, s-sir..”
Another lash, this time slightly harder.
“Once more. Come on.. I know you can find it, baby.”
It came to him, he knew what he expected of him… but it disgusted him. It was perverted to use that word in a setting like this. It was the name he called his own father when he was young… back when they were close.
He slowly shook his head, his exposed body trembling, expecting the worst. “I-I can’t say that… I’m sorry… I just can’t.”
“You can, and you will.” His tone was deeper now, partially vexed. “You don’t want to make daddy angry now, do you?”
Dwight cringed at the word, “no.. I don’t..”
The man ran the tip of the crop along the boy’s drawn in calve, his wrinkled eyes following it, “then be a good boy and do as I’ve commanded.”
He let out a sign and relented, his stomach turning as the words left him. “Thank you…daddy.”
The man smiled, “you are most welcome, sweetie.”
He wanted nothing more than to vomit… well, actually… he would settle for this guy disappearing.
“Now then,” he released the crop then stood up from the side of the bed, unbuttoning his sweat stained dress shirt. “I seemed to have changed my mind, you’ll have to forgive me…” he tossed the shirt to one of the lounge chairs, going for his belt next. The band of leather was placed on the mattress as he kicked off his shoes, his trousers being removed next.
Now completely nude he returned to the bed, moving himself towards the sickened lad. “I was going to hold back and be kind…” he caught the leg that kicked out, trying to keep him from getting closer. “But, you’re so adorable I want you now.”
“N-No! P-Please… just leave me alone…” He did everything he could to pull his leg back, but the man was unexpectedly strong.
“Daddy will be gentle, baby. You’ll feel so good you’ll never want me to leave.”
His stomach buried Dwight’s lower region, hiding it from both their view as he brought the boy’s foot to his mouth, gripping it firmly by the ankle. His hot, slimy tongue ran along the boy’s arch towards his hallux; swirling his tongue on its surface before bringing it into the warmth of his mouth. Dwight gagged when the man began sucking the digit, looking away he tried to pull his hands free of the ropes once more. He couldn’t take this… he couldn’t…
“P-Please… please stop…”
There was pop and the toe was removed from his mouth. “Look at me when I choose to pleasure you, babydoll. I know it feels good.”
When the boy failed to obey him, his leg was given a sharp, deep bite. He cried out in pain, bringing up his other leg to kick the man in the face. That only made it worse for himself, the man’s teeth dragging against the skin when his head was moved.
His other ankle was soon captured.
“Ungrateful fucking child,” the man growled, spitting out man’s skin and blood onto the floor.
“I’M NOT A CHILD, FREAK!” He got frantic, moving his body in every way he could to free his ankles from the man’s bruising grip. He didn’t care about the pain, he had to get this disgusting man away from him.
“You most certainly are.” The man flipped him into his knees, the rope restricting his hands further as his arms were crossed. “A disobedient child that needs his daddy to punish him.”
“GO TO HELL, PEDO!!!!” He thrashed and struggled to get free of this monster but it was futile. His ankles were soon locked into cuffs, a spreader bar keeping his legs apart, his arse in the air.
“What a cruel tongue you have, baby. It’s going to be okay. I know bad boys love to have their little mouths filled.”
Dwight’s head was jerked to the side by his jaw, his glasses removed and the man’s salty fingers prying his mouth open to insert a small dildo-gag, fastening it at the back of his skull. “Much better isn’t it, my angel?” He glared at the blurry man, shaking his head in protest, gagging only slightly on the silicone pressing down on his tongue.
The man scooted back in the bed on his knees, admiring the sight before him. “You’re so cute. Your body is begging for me.” The buckle of the belt clinked as he grabbed it from the mattress, folding the leather in half, “too bad you were such a brat… now we both have to wait.”
“ ‘Spare the rod, spoil the child’ they say.”
Dwight shrieked around the gag as the belt made contact with his ass, burning pain being left in its wake.
“What a cute sound…”
He struck him again in the same location, then again and again ‘til the bound man was wailing into the mattress, trying to beg him to stop.
“You’re loving this aren’t you? You love it when daddy spanks you.”
The main was relentless, breathing heavily as he used all his strength to administer Dwight’s punishment. The man’s trembling ass began to bleed as it was torn open from the harsh leather.
“Your eyes are so pretty when you cry… I almost don’t want to stop.” He changed locations, moving the belt to his other hand as he beat the puppy-eyed man, only slightly higher than before.
It seemed to go on forever… how many lashes had the taken?! When would this monster be satisfied?!
He was moaning behind him, pleasuring himself as he continued his assault. Dwight found he could no longer scream...he felt he had no more tears to shed as his asscheeks were abused. When the large man took notice he threw the belt off the bed and shuffled closer, aligning himself with the tight, almost exposed hole. He coated his hard, leaking cock with the lube he had taken from the box, pulling the man’s bruised and bloodied cheeks apart.
Already near his peak, he didn’t care to take the time to prepare the bound man as he entered him with one swift thrust. Dwight lurched forward with a shrill screech as his hole was torn apart, his insides screaming. It felt as if he had just been used a sheath for a sharp blade.
He screamed, cried, begged, and prayed as the man fucked into his unready body persistently- brutally.
He was going to die!!
He was going to die!!!!!
He slammed his head against the iron bars of the bedframe, biting down hard on the gag, howling in agony. This was hell!! He had died and gone to hell!!!!
He had never felt something so painful!
The man leaned over him, licking the back of his neck as he panted, his thrusts beginning to stagger. The disgusting smell of the man’s sweat violated Dwight’s nostrils forcing bile to crawl its way up his inflamed throat.
“Hhhh.. daddy’s gonna cum, baby…. Daddy’s… going to fill you up… hhhh… you’re being… such… a
g-good… boy…”
He could feel the warmth of the stranger’s cum spilling inside of him, as the man cried out in his ecstasy. Dwight could handle no more, vomit leaked from the sides of his gag and down his face, forcing himself to swallowed the rest so he wouldn’t choke.
The man gave his mutilated ass a smack as he pulled out and laid himself down beside his exhausted, used body. “You are so perfect… I wish I could take you home with me.” Wheezing, he pet the lad’s tear stained, flushed face with a sweaty hand, “your hole was made for me.”
“Goodnight, my angel.”
“Daddy loves you.”
Notes:
“Mum… I frew up…” ( ´∀｀)b
I actually did though.
Why did I even write about fetishes I hate? This feels like self harm.
Chapter 5: Façade
Notes:
Happy Easter~
This writing is rubbish…
Captain Morgan is my whore.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“I am sorry, Orsetto. I cannot go with you this evening,” the man was carefully placing a violin into its velvety case. There had been something questionable about him since their last night together. It was understandable, David had denied the man what he so desperately craved. It was only natural he be more cautious. That was not it though, he seemed deeply saddened.
“It’s bugger all, mate.” Vittorio had already dressed him in something he found suitable, all the while his eyes were downcast like he was trying to find something to say. He never could seem to find it. Now, here the man was in his sorrowful radiance dressed in a lavish black tuxedo, preparing for his departure.
“Chuffed to see ya still play.”
It brought a wee smile to his slightly aged face, “when I next see you, I will give you a personal performance. If you wish.”
“Oi, I’d like that.”
David walked him to the door, opening it for him- for once. “Thank you, Amore.” With case in hand he made his way to his car, stopping in his tracks as David was closing the door. “O-Orsetto…” it was reopened; the Brit looked to him in confusion. The man’s face was the epitome of worry, “Please do not attempt to go by yourself tonight. Tarhos will go if you ask. I…do not wish to see you harmed.”
“They can bloody bring it, clobber ‘em intae hell.”
“David.”
He sighed, “yeah yeah, got it.”
“Grazie. Ci vediamo presto.”
—————————————————————
He found himself at the top of the forbidden third flight of stairs… the fourth floor, Tarhos’ domain. He did not know what he was expecting, but this was definitely not it. There was one set of doors in front of him the rest being a never ending hallway. The walls appeared to be made of cobblestone like a castle. Heck, the whole hall looked like a castle’s interior. Wooden support beams and flame lit lanterns hanging from chains in a slightly off putting way. Either Tarhos was as big of a history nerd as Vittorio or he was worse… a fantasy role player. The thought of him dressing up as a wizard made David chuckle to himself, that would be so fucking stupid.
The Englishman snapped himself back to reality and approached the ancient looking door. Of course he would have an intricate brass door knocker…of course. In the shape of a lion’s head no less. He took hold of the handle, knocking three times and waiting. He hoped he was not disturbing his sleep, it was almost ten at night. Surely he wouldn’t be asleep so early?
He waited a couple minutes more, considering leaving when the door finally creaked open. Greeting him was a confused bearded man, his brown hair partially in a bun the rest falling to above his shoulders. “Can.. I help you?” He was more timid than you’d expect one of his size to be, being just an inch taller than David.
“Is Tarhos in,” he inquired, stealing a fleeting glance of the wicked scar that adorned his visage as well as the tattoos that decorated him. Who was this man? Had he been up here this entire time? His accent labeled him either an American or Canadian. What was he doing in Italy?
The man moved aside, allowing him to enter the incredibly massive room. Just like the outside, it was like stepping into a castle, except this room was the throne room. Suits of knight armor lined the walls, beautifully polished swords in their gauntlets. Magnificently woven tapestries flowed from the ceiling, crowning a spectacular candlelit chandelier. He felt as if he had just fallen back in time.
He finally spied Tarhos, laid out on an enormous bed that even the Queen of England would have been jealous of. He was shirtless and on his stomach, arms folded to support his head as he looked upon his guest. The closer David got to the bed, the louder the metal the men were enjoying grew until he could not even hear his own thoughts anymore.
The tattooed stranger sat down on a stool beside the bed, retaking up his tool and leaning over the Hungarian to resume whatever he was doing before being interrupted.
“Jeff, do turn it down just a bit,” Tarhos had to practically yell to get the man to hear him over the music.
The man paused, the buzzing of the tool in his hand ceased as he looked towards the other like he had just been told to kill himself. Even so, he yielded. He reached a gloved hand towards the record player beside the bed, turning down the volume enough for words to be able to reach one’s ears.
“Thank you,” Tarhos turned his attention towards David as the buzzing began again and the now dejected looking man got back to work. “Come closer.”
The Brit closed the distance between himself and the bed ‘til he was leaning against the bed post, staring down at the raven haired man. Now that he was closer he could finally see what had Jeff so occupied . He was currently shading a very complicated looking tattoo on Tarhos’ spine and by the looks of it, it was almost complete.
“How may I be of service, mister King?” The man turned his head to the side, silver eyes gazing upwards at the Brit.
“Eh, forget it, mate. Was gon’ ask a favour, but that shite’s ‘bout tae be sore as ‘ell.”
“It will be fine. What is your request?”
He leaned his head against the post, his eyes falling upon the spinning record, “Could ya take me tae that posh club we went tae with Vitto? He told me tae ask ya.”
The man hummed, contemplating. “You are wanting to go tonight?”
“Aye.”
“How long do you have left, Jeffrey?”
“…Ten minutes.” Came the soft reply.
Tarhos let out a sigh, “I will take you… under one condition.”
“Shoot me.”
“We share whatever you order.”
“Ya have a deal, mate.” He would be wrong anyway. He knew somewhere in his heart his dream was just a manifestation of his inner vile desires. He just wanted, no… NEEDED assurance.
—————————————————————
David hoped that choosing to sit at the bar would bring back some kind of memories of the time he and the bartender supposedly had together, but there was nothing. The ginger barely acknowledged him, except when in conversation, of course. Surely if they had slept together he would have been more happy to see him. Unless… maybe he was bloody rubbish in bed? No.. that’s not what the birds back home had said… back when he was playing pretend.
Tarhos called the bartender over with a wave his hand, “Enzo. May we have a specials menu?” He asked the freckled man with a hushed voice.
“Sì. But, most items are unavailable this evening, Signor Kovács.”
“And, why is that?”
“It’s Exhibitionist’s Night, you see. They are starting in an hour.”
David tilted his head towards Tarhos in curiosity as he took a gulp of his beer.
“The prostitutes can come out here to work instead of being confined to their designated rooms.” Tarhos filled him in, looking behind him towards the doors at which they entered, “The doors will be locked for a few hours.”
“And, often times there are performances,” Enzo added as he slid a red envelope towards Tarhos.
Prostitutes.. shit. It was real… wasn’t it…
Tarhos opened the envelope, examining their options. “Look at that…” he held the paper between two fingers, showing it to David. “Your favorite is available.”
It was most definitely real.
Most of the numbers were crossed out in red besides number twelve and three others. There he was, the lad in his fucked up nightmare of a dream, except here he had his glasses. There was also a yellow symbol next to his Roman numerals. “ ‘ey. What’s the exclamation point for?”
Tarhos turned the card back to himself and groaned, sounding deeply annoyed. “It means he’s been injured. It must be serious if they decided to mark it.”
David felt his eye twitch, but now would not be the time to make a scene. “That mean we can’t see ‘im?” He tried to seem calm, casual, not desperate or like he wanted to break someone’s fucking skull with his bare hands.
“Hm. Did not realize you were a sadist.” He circled the numbers with a pen Enzo had left on the bar, “should have guessed. You did get paid to fight, after all.” He resealed the letter and handed it across the bar to the ginger along with his card.
“Vitto told ya ‘bout my boxin’?”
“He complained about it. His hatred for violence is quite… vexing.”
“Yer tellin’ me, mate. He used tae bloody cry ‘bout it.”
An emotion flashed behind the Hungarian’s eyes momentarily but David was not quick enough to catch it before the bartender returned to them.
“Here you are, Signores. Enjoy your evening.” He handed Tarhos back his card and a golden key with a small chain attached.
“Cheers, mate.” David finished his beer and followed Tarhos to the end of the crowded, smoky room. He pulled back the velvet curtain, revealing the dark hallway beyond. They stopped at door twelve and hastily inserted the key, unlocking it. When they entered the room and relocked the door it appeared no one was inside the red lit room.
After chaining the key to his belt Tarhos held up his hand, signaling David to remain where he was by the door. The taller man quietly walked over to one of the lounge chairs, peering over the edge of it. He kept his eyes on the corner as he sat in the chair, waving David over. With a pounding heart he approached the chair beside the Hungarian, taking a seat silently.
“It’s okay, Dwight… you can come out. You know I would never harm you.” It was the softest, tenderest David had ever heard the man speak. The Brit was left stunned.
After a time the man crawled out from behind Tarhos’ chair, circling around it to sit on his knees in front of him. David’s hand clapped over his mouth and nose, his heart dropping. The man was just skin and bones… and gore. His whole back was flayed, his vertebra shining a dirty ivory through the caked blood. The wound was clearly infected and smelled of neglect. Bruised hand prints littered his arms and throat as well as scabbed, healing bite marks. The red lighting made his ribs look so prominent he could have been mistaken for just a skeleton. His caved in stomach was covered in gashes and bites. The man’s boney thighs were speckled with tiny round circles, burn marks and points where things had been injected into him. Not to mention the rope burns which were at every point your eyes would look. Whatever had happened to him, had happened recently. It was nauseatingly painful to look at.
Nevertheless, it proved the Englishman’s fears. It had happened. Everything he saw in that nightmare had happened… but, why? What had he done what he did…? Why had he enjoyed adding to this man’s pain? All he could feel was anger. Anger at himself, anger at whoever had done this, anger at the blurry faces he had barely seen. He had to act, he had to do something!! Surely this man was not accepting all of this willingly just to get paid? No one was that desperate.
“Aww, pet… look at you..” Tarhos expressed emotion for the first time David had seen, he looked completely heartbroken. The man below him, buried his bruised, hallowed face in between the man’s clothed thighs, nuzzling weakly against them. “What did you do to deserve this..?” He ran his fingers through the lad’s greasy, thinning hair attempting to comfort him.
“M-Master…” He wrapped his slender arms around one of Tarhos’ legs, pulling himself closer, “t-they.. they are so.. mad…”
“Why?”
“T-They won’t tell me… I’ve asked so many times…” He wanted to cry… it was plainly obvious, but he just seemed too worn.
It only added to his anger.
“Maybe ya should bloody fight back, eh?! Fuckin’ toff pricks askin’ tae get their arses handed tae ‘em.” Rationality became a stranger to the Brit, he knew it was stupid to think this man could have fought back in his state. Not everyone was built for that. His rage had gotten the better of him. He hadn’t even realized he had jumped out of the chair and bloodied his knuckles against the concrete wall.
“Lower the enthusiasm, David.” Dwight was in Tarhos’ lap now, clinging to him for dear life, looking back at the Englishman like he was the devil himself. He was like a frightened bunny terrified of a storm.
Shit.
Tarhos traced the man’s open wounds sensually, gaze fixated on David, glaring at him with warning in his eyes. “A good whore knows better than to bite the hand of their employer.”
“H-He..” he looked from one man to the other, shock plastered on his face, “He’s ‘ere willin’ly?”
“Why would he not be?” Cocking his head to the side, he looked to the man straddling him, “You are, aren’t you, pet?”
A twitch seemed to flip in the puppy eyed man, he nodded and a smile painted over his features. “I am! I love it here.” He nuzzled his cheek against Tarhos’ silky hair. “They treat me well. I’m sure I deserved this punishment.” His confession sounded uncomfortably sincere, like he really, truly believed it.
Sinking into his chair, David scratched at the back of his neck, hanging his head in mock embarrassment. “Blimey… I feel bloody daft. Seemed fuckin’ dodgy, it did.”
Fake it.
David King was no idiot. He watched his mum be abused by his father his whole childhood. He knew this shit like the back of his hand, and he could see his mother in this man. The fake smiles, the fear of the lie being unraveled behind his eyes, the false sincerity. He had to be wise about this. He needed a plan.. the only problem being… Tarhos was on their side. No way he could not be. Was it the same with Vittorio…?
“It’s understandable, mister King. I am sure you’ve never met such a masochist.” The Hungarian lowered the man back to the floor, “of course this time is particularly bad. I wish to know the reason.” He stood and returned to the door, unlocking it.
“Where the ‘ell are you goin’?”
“I wish to make a few more purchases. I shall return.”
Silence.
David reclined in the elegant seat as they were left to their own devices, “ ‘Ey.. I’m sorry.”
Dwight turned towards him with squinted curiosity, “w-what for?”
“For what the fuck I did tae ya. I remember somethin’ an’ it wasn’t good.”
The lad brought his bruised knees to his chest, hugging them, “I… thought you sounded familiar.” He drew in a shaky breath, “it wasn’t… your fault. They drugged you so, s-so much. You didn’t want to hurt me.” A small smile danced across his discolored face, “you only did it because they said they’d…” he paused to swallow the lump in his dry throat, “beat me again if you didn’t.”
“Like that be any fuckin’ bettah.”
He released a soft chuckle, “I think I prefer it….heals faster. But, it’s okay. Really. It’s what they paid for~! And… it’s not like I didn’t get anything from it either.”
There was a long, painful silence between them like they were waiting for the other to confess some hidden sin. “Just so ya know….” David leaned forwards, shattering that tension ‘til their noses were almost touching, “I don’t bloody buy the act, mate.” His voice turned to a whisper, “I ain’t lettin’ ya stay ‘ere.”
“D-Don’t…”
“Don’t give me hope.”
—————————————————————
David sat his empty glass down on the bar, his eyes on the men beside him who were partaking in a shameless display of passion. Tarhos had paid to take Dwight to one of the shower rooms and asked the Brit to let them have a moment to themselves. He wasn’t happy about it… but Tarhos seemed to be gentle with the man at least.
He was in six pints deep now, and he was horny… how could he not be? There was a bloke beside him bent over the bar with his knees balancing on the barstool. He was locking eyes with David over his drink while being fucked by an older gentleman. He was exotically attractive… freckles speckling tanned skin, hickory wavy hair cascading down to his feminine hips like silk, and chocolate irises filled with desire. Of course, anything would be attractive to David at this point. He had drank too much.
The olive skinned man placed his drink down with elegance, leaning on his elbow towards the Englishman, hand propping up his head. “Ciao,” he released a breathy moan as the man behind him shifted, not seeming to care that he was focused on someone else. “Parli Italiano?”
David inched just a bit closer, face feeling as if it was on fire, “speak bloody English, mate.”
“Non capisco che stai dicendo…” he grinned, his necklaces clicking against the bartop as his body was rocked, “non fa niente.” His free hand wrapped around David’s head, pulling him towards himself until their lips greeted each other. The Englishman felt himself floating, this man’s scent was intoxicating like rum and rosemary. Like the song of a siren he was so easy to get lost in…
No.
David tore himself out of his haze, the other man whining as he was left abandoned. It had been long enough. There was only one pleasure he desired, only one man he’d accept it from…or take it. His conscious could hang itself, he couldn’t be bloody arsed.
Stumbling towards the hidden entrance of the hallway he almost missed the slight pressure that was placed upon on his chest. Lustful doe eyes met his, bandaged hands slid under his shirt eliciting pleasure with every motion. An oversized dress shirt hung on his shoulders, an undone red tie around his neck a stark contrast to his bone white bandages. This man had completely transformed into something new. Something almost… dominant. Determination shone behind innocence, seduction behind fear. He knew his desires and David would be damned if he dare try to stop him.
His head would have hit the floor had his reflexes kicked in just a millisecond late- had this twig of a man just bodied him?! The Brit sat up on his elbows to retaliate but swiftly lost the will to do so as the man lowered himself down on his chest, knees tucked under the Englishman’s arms. The candlelit chandeliers above adorned him with a halo of glory, his gaze was uncharacteristically stern and it only turned David on further. The floor had become his stage, and he held every shred of attention.
“B-Bloody ‘ell.”
The tie was slipped from his neck finding itself snaked around David’s and pulled taut, not enough to choke… just enough to excite. “You’re so cute like this, big boy.”
W-Where did that bashful voice go…?
“Your throat is silently begging for me.” The tie tightened, their faces were so close their breath battled in the space between them. “But, I want to hear it.” The back of his head reunited with the cold floor, Dwight’s member bounced on his partially open lips, “beg me. Beg me to give myself to you.” He felt a hand on his own clothed cock, rubbing him through the fabric.
“Beg me to be your slave.”
Notes:
Thank you for reading this far~ I know it must be hell
-This test run is almost complete-
Chapter 6: Bond
Summary:
“I need you to survive so that I can survive.”
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“Be more than that.”
The man smiled pleasantly down at him, not allowing himself to break his act, “please me and I will become your everything.”
The crowd was captivated, hanging on their every word… entranced by Dwight’s every subtle movement. The atmosphere shifted, the music more sensual, the candles seemed to dim, the smoke of the cigars enveloped them like morning fog hid the previous night’s sin. Except this sin desired nothing more than to make itself seen…
This was his unholy performance.
He needed to be seen.
“Ya already are.”
He opened his mouth, eyes locked on the man’s above him- waiting. “It’s yours.” His lover’s cock slipped past his lips for only a moment, his tongue caressing the underside as it left him. He planted tender kisses along its shaft, before swirling his tongue along the head, the taste of precum flooding his senses. Had he done this before? Had he ever tasted another man before? Why did it feel so natural…
Dwight’s fingers were soon in his hair, “don’t tease me, King… or I’ll fill your throat with something far worse.”
His cock twitched under the man’s hand, every word he was saying was so… hot. It was just so foreign… yeah. That’s why he liked it. Because it was new. Not because he wanted to be ruined by someone he desired to destroy. Aye…
His head was jerked forward, the man’s cock shoved down his throat with one motion, he choked— yet it remained. “Keep your mind on me, big boy.” Oh, it’s most definitely on you. The hand in his hair tightened, the tie following suit as this newly reborn man used him. He cared not if he was bruising the back of his throat. He did not care if his jaw became sore. He bloody relished in how much he choked. His pace was fast and brutal like he wanted the man beneath him to feel his anger. To possibly understand every bit of his inner rage… and to release him from it. I see you.
With ragged breath, he stole himself from David’s warmth. His face flushed, his skin glistening with sweat from both the heat of the room and his desire. He needed more. He needed to be filled, to be satisfied. The tie slackened, two fingers brushed against David’s swollen lips seeking entry— which he was granted. David’s tongue waltzed between them, he sucked them, he praised them, he worshipped them. Oh, how his soul wept as they were taken from him.
His doe eyed master raised himself slightly, his gaze transfixed on his new pet as he began working himself open. David’s hands ran along the inside of his bandaged thighs, trailing up his hips, squeezing them. He was becoming impatient. He wanted to throw him upon a table and fuck him until he was screaming his name, begging him for more. Begging to be hurt.
As if his master heard his inner desires, he was soon met with a harsh unexpected impact. His cheek set alight with a magnificent heat which only added to the flames of his arousal… oh god… he was utterly losing himself to this man.
“Show yourself to me.”
He worked at the buttons of his shirt all the while captivated by the actions of the man hovering above him. It did not take long for his muscular chest to be revealed, the other man humming as he drank in his form. His belt came undone all too hastily, he unbuttoned his trousers and raised his hips to slide them off but was halted in the process. Dwight’s hand held them at his calved as he looped and refastened his belt, ensuring he could not flee if he wished it. His member bounced against his abs as it was released from its prison, begging for what lie above. “Who knew a beast like you would be so easy to tame.”
“B-Bugger off… I still ‘ave m-“ when had his hands gotten bound…? He tried to pull them to himself but they were somehow secured to the floor above his head. Was he really that hypnotized that he failed to notice? He turned his head to appraise the strength of the bindings but was quickly yanked back in place by the tie.
“Eyes on me.”
A filthy moan tore from within the Englishman as the other took him in, unrushed and deliberate. His tight warmth was enough to push David to that edge before they even approached it.
“You don’t cum until I say… understand?”
“A-Aye…”
“What a good little beast.”
Beginning to find his rhythm he leaned over his restrained body, resting his forehead against David’s. The tie tightened, their lips brushed against each other. His breath was so warm, so soft… he wished it was in his lungs…fueling him. It felt as if he was becoming empty, he needed him. He needed him. He… needed him.. His vision began to fade.. his lungs began to sting. Tears fled his darkening eyes as their lips connected, as their spirits became one.
He was fading.
Then…
He was returned.
He gasped for breath as he was relinquished, as the pain began to subside. Dwight’s breathing was becoming intense, hotter… burning against his ear. The mask began to lower, his kindness returned… fear rekindled like a blazing pyre. “When t-this curtain closes… hope will make itself a s-stranger to me again… I’m scared, D-David.” His voice was trembling as he whispered, if the Englishman had breathed any louder he would not have heard a thing. “You should have never come back…”
“T-They are going to hurt you… it was h-his plan this whole time..”
He kissed him once more, “f-forgive me…”
The Englishman matched his whisper, attempting to go even softer despite his ragged breathing, “ya did nothin wrong, mate… Let them hurt me. Can’t be… bloody mithered….”
The final act was upon them.
The mask returned as Dwight straightened himself, looking down at him like he was but a decaying corpse. “Cum for me, bitch. Give me your all.”
Oh, and he did. He growled as he fucked up into him, gripping his restraints as he released himself. The pleasure overtook him, casting him into a realm he’d ne’er ventured… in the centre was the man above him. He never wanted to be parted from him. This moment was everything. He did not care what came after. As long as this man existed… he would be happy.
“Open your mouth.”
His jaw fell open without a second thought and his reward was given.
“Swallow.”
He obeyed.
“That’s my good boy,” he pat his head as if he was a damn dog as he removed the tie from his neck. He returned to a whisper that did not dare reach David’s ears, “I love you.”
—————————————————————
Hums of amusement filled the room, every eye on their heaving bodies. Dwight arose, leaving him cold and cruelly exposed— helpless. He walked around him, taking his seat in Tarhos’ lap just slightly out of view.
“You did so well, pet… you have certainly gotten better.” Tarhos praised as he pet his damp hair, allowing him to button up his oversized dress shirt. His attention then returned to the main event.
“Thank you, master…”
David’s view of them was soon blocked by a pair of legs. His eyes traveled up them searching for the being they belong to. “V-Vitto?” H-How long had he been here?? His face was painted with disgust, “how strange it is to see you like this, Orsetto.” The heel of his shoe ground into David’s balls, “I would have never imagined you could be such a disgusting whore.” He groaned in pain as he looked up at the man in confusion, “Vitto… w-what the bloody ‘ell mate??”
Vittorio leaned over him adding more pressure to his heel, “you are vile. What could I be lacking? What part of me was not enough for you?”
“T-The fuck…” he growled through clenched teeth, trying to focus on what he was saying over the mind-numbing pain, “are ya b-bloody talkin’?!”
He let out a sigh, “it matters not. The night has already been decided.” His shoe retuned to the floor as he turned from his friend, “this is why I bid you come, anyhow. At least in this… you have not disappointed me.”
David twisted his body desperately, sitting on his knees while his hands kept him grounded, “Wait.. I don’t understa—“
“Silenzio.”
His heartbeat pounded in his ears threatening to drown out the words of the Italian.
“I have mourned you enough.”
Then… he was gone.
He left him.
He… left him?
What did he mean?
What the fuck is going on…. !?
He looked to Tarhos and Dwight but they were unmoving, painfully the same as if Vittorio had said nothing to him at all. As if he was not even there.
The atmosphere of the room had shifted so dramatically. The walls felt as if they were shrinking, like every predator here had their sights on him alone and wished to tear him apart. Bloody bring it, pal. He’d take ‘em all with just his teeth if he had to.
—————
“My wonderful gentlemen and dear friends… I do hope you have enjoyed the introduction to tonight’s long awaited entertainment…” A stage was revealed behind curtains of velvet, soft red lights ran along the front to illuminate it in blood. Its name was hell.. and it craved sacrifice. Evan Macmillan stood atop dressed in crimson, his name was Satan… and he demanded carnage. “As you well know… we are only able to indulge in such a treat once a year… so let us savor every single second.”
“Two of our finest patrons have generously donated to this evening’s spectacle… be sure to give them your gratitude before the night’s end.”
“Here we have…” his hand gestured towards the bound Englishman who was glaring daggers at him, fantasizing about how he would kill him given the chance.
“The lion…”
Tarhos arose from his seat, pushing his pet towards the stage.
“—and the one who holds his leash.”
Dwight turned towards Tarhos as he was lead forward, face the ultimate picture of terror, “m-master… w-what… what’s go…going on?”
“You will be fine, pet. You are just going to play the part of… motivation. I won’t allow harm to come to you,” his voice was a kind whisper but brought absolutely no comfort.
The frightened man was forced to his knees upon the stage, eyes scanning the crowd as lounge chairs were turned by the prostitutes to give their masters better views on the events to unfold. Drinks were ordered, cigars lit, bets placed… their darkest desires were soon to be satisfied…
David cracked his knuckles through the bindings in warning as one of the men approached him. He was in no mood to be fucked with… Vittorio’s little display had messed him up enough. Once this night was through he’d be sure to get some fucking answers.
“Ah-ah… behave, Mister King,” Tarhos tutted from atop the stage. David’s eyes widened as he acknowledged him… more like acknowledged the gun in his hand held at the back of Dwight’s skull. “Bloody fuckin’ ‘ell…” this was getting too serious… too real. It didn’t feel like a game anymore.
David backed down, the gun and the trembling man it set its sights on was all he could see as he was untied from the metal ring in the floor and was fully stripped down. Strategies played out in his head of how to possibly disarm the Hungarian as he was lead onto the stage. “Nice of you to join us,” Evan greeted him with a sly grin.
“Mingin’ nutter.”
“I do not particularly like the way that sounded, Mister King.” Macmillan towered over him, but he couldn’t give two bloomin’ shits.
“Aww dids I hurt the bloke’s feelin’s?”
The silence was much too long.
“Oh, you’re going to be fun.” Macmillan swung but David was already behind him, hackles raised and ready to knock his lights out.
“Ahem.” Tarhos cocked the gun, its click forcing David to stop in his tracks… which earned him a brutal punch to the gut. It phased him little, coughing through it like he had just tripped over a stone and grew embarrassed. His threw up his hands in surrender, “Oi! Put the rod down, Tarhos. Was jus’ takin’ a piss.”
The gun didn’t move… Tarhos’ finger didn’t sway from the trigger. Dwight squinted at the Englishman’s red, blurry outline mouthing something the Brit couldn’t quite figure out.. hopefully it would come to him before it was too late.
The beautiful tanned man from the bar stepped in front of him, clad in gold and ivory. He locked David’s wrists in ancient looking iron manacles which he tested the strength of immediately. They were like new… The long haired stranger placed a kiss upon his cheek whispering something in Italian before stepping to Macmillan’s side.
Evan grabbed ahold of a large metal meat hook that hung from a thick chain, sliding it through the chain on David’s shackles. “It is quite amusing how fast you are tamed, Mister King.”
“It’s amusin’ how much a bloody coward ya are,” he growled- if he had fangs they would have been beared.
“What a ferocious kitten you are.”
David’s body was suddenly found suspended in the air by the manacles, the ground just slightly out of his reach. The iron bit into his wrists, struggling to hold his weight. All scheming minds were upon him, appraising his exposed form… wondering what best to do with their new plaything.
Whispers of expectations were soon written down and passed to Macmillan’s assistant who brought them before their ringleader. “My, my…” he started as he read through the suggestions, “You lads will never fail to impress me.” His words were met with soft chuckles and sadistic smiles from the audience.
“Let us waste no more of our precious time and get started.” The papers were returned to his ethereal assistant, “Lyra..” the rest was spoken in Italian for the man to understand. He nodded and scurried off into a room behind the stage. He returned not a minute later pushing a silver cart behind David’s form, standing aside to await his next order.
“Thank you, my dear.”
Evan ran his hand along David’s abdomen as he circled him, “a little birdy told me you’ve never taken it before.”
“The ‘ell ya sayin?” He was already tired of whatever kinky shite these fuckers were into.
Evan’s hand rested on his toned arse, his thumb sliding in between to brush against the virgin hole to emphasize his implication. “Fuck off…” he considered donkey kicking the man but feared that would be the thing that got Dwight a bullet in the skull. Wait for a better blow? Tarhos wouldn’t actually kill the lad would he? He seemed to care for him.. well…
Vittorio seemed to care for David too.. and now look where he is. His confused rage boiled every time he thought about the Italian. He had to get off this hook, get the gun, kill whoever he had to, get some answers from Vitto, and get Dwight back to England with him. Shouldn’t be too hard? He was David fucking King… he could handle a couple horny bastards.
“I think… I will do that in a moment... Let’s weaken that fighting spirit a bit first, shall we?”
David turned his head to glare at the man behind him, “come on then. I don’t give a shit, pal.”
Stinging pain bloomed from his side as Macmillan slide a blade under the skin. It wasn’t deep enough to pierce muscle, just enough to remove that layer on top. He slid the knife downwards with precision, peeling off a thin ribbon of the man’s flesh.
David grit his teeth as blood trickled down his thigh, the pain was intense… but he wouldn’t give these bastards what they wanted. They wanted to see him cry, to hear him scream and beg…
Keep dreaming, sick fucks.
Strip after strip was sliced from his body until his whole right side from shoulder to ankle was revealed muscle and glistening blood. The man had worked slowly, enjoying every twitch or deep inhale David would give him.
God, it fucking hurt!!!
FUCK!!!
His side felt like fire had set itself to his flesh.. a fire that bloody refused to die no matter how little was left to devour.
“My, my. You really do have nerves of steel… impressive.”
The Brit did not regard him, he had to get lost in his own mind if he was to stay strong. He needed to look to the future… the future when he gets them out of here… when they’d be at home and never speak of Italy again. If Dwight even wished to go home with him. Dwight probably had a family worrying about him… searching day and night for any sign of him. Losing sleep worrying about whether he was safe or not. He turned his gaze to the puppy eyed man. His face was buried in his hands, not even letting himself partially see what Evan was doing to him. Dwight needed to get home to them, aye. He had to figure this out. He just needed that gun.
When satisfied with his handiwork he drug his fingers along the newly exposed meat, grinning to himself as David groaned from the immense discomfort. “Come on, King. Let us hear you.” He licked the Brit’s blood off his fingers as he returned to the cart, searching for a new tool.
“We will have to leave your back a blank canvas for now… our audience would feel quite left out.”
Silent assessment.
“I know what we need.”
Macmillan procured a whip made of barbed chains, handing it off to Lyra before disappearing to the room behind the stage. Tarhos whistled at the sight of the cruel device, admiring it from afar as if it was the hottest human being to ever walk the face of the earth.
Taking notice of this, Lyra elegantly strolled over to the Hungarian, holding the instrument towards him with a sweet smile. They exchanged weapons after a moment of contemplation, Lyra returned the barrel of the gun to the back of Dwight’s head and Tarhos made his way to center stage. He bounced the handle in his palm a couple times, finding the most effective way to hold it before locking eyes with his prisoner. David scoffed but his eyes screamed challenge: Show me whatcha got, mate.
The metal ripped from clavicle to opposite hip, incredible pain being left in its wake as it pulled from the skin like a desperate ex-lover. Flesh was torn asunder with each blinding lash. Thoughts were muddled as pain became all its victim knew. Blood speckled the accursed stage as the whip would withdrawal only to be recoated as it was reunited with the man’s torn body. Even if David had the will to scream, he would have not been able. The strength of each impact only grew as time went on, stealing the breath from his lungs.
If this continued… he would die.
Tarhos was skilled. He knew torture well. He knew the point between life and death. Not yet, his victim could handle a few more.
And a few more he gave.
“MASTER, PLEASE!!!!!! YOU’LL KILL HIM!!!!” Tarhos paused and acknowledged the man who seemed to have been crying for quite some time— he wouldn’t know, of course. He had been lost in the ecstasy of torture. Lyra had the man by his hair, the gun held under his throat as he wailed and begged incoherently.
He took a moment to assess his work. Multiple of the Englishman’s ribs peeked through the torn muscle as well as his hip bone. Aside from that, his whole chest was simply diverse colours of crimson where flesh had been torn. His breathing was shallow and his head was hung as if he had fainted. Tarhos lifted up his chin with the handle of the whip, examining him. He had indeed blacked out, either due to the pain or the shock. Blood loss could have been another suspect. He would have to awaken him before Evan returned.
One of the spectators whistled to him, tossing him a small vial of white powder. He nodded to the patron in thanks, holding the delicate glass under the Brit’s crooked nose before popping it open. David gasped as he jolted awake, his body screaming in agony at the sudden movement. “S-Shit…” he knew better than to look at the damage, he didn’t want to panic and lose his head. Fuck. Breathing had become so difficult. Each time his lungs would expand they would bring a wave of stinging torment that flowed over his entire being. It was almost too much… but he knew they wouldn’t allow him to die so easily.
“Ah, Tarhos…” Macmillan returned, wheeling in a massive clay furnace already home to burning embers. “Do you wish to take over?You do have a distinctive expertise with these tasks.”
“It would be an honour.”
He brought the furnace into the Brit’s view, delighting in his failure to hide a reaction. “This night shall be yours then, Mister Kovács.” A throne-like chair was brought forth for the large man, right next to the panicking Dwight. He took his seat and the weapon from his assistant, getting himself comfortable. “Entertain us.”
—————————————————————
An hour had passed since Tarhos took over, teeth had been pulled, digits removed, flesh burned. There was only one thing more he was holding back from. If they were to do it they would have to act fast, their plaything was running out of blood to lose.
Tarhos looked towards Evan, who was using his pet’s mouth as a cock warmer since he began. “May I have my pet’s assistance, mister Macmillan?”
Evan nodded, pressing the gun against Dwight’s forehead to get him to release his member. “Go on, your master calls.”
Dwight scrambled to his feet, rushing to his master’s side, not allowing himself to look at the bloodied dangling man before them. Keeping his eyes on the ground was no better… it was covered in things that should never be detached from a person. But he just couldn’t do it… he couldn’t let himself look at him. Listening to his struggling, wheezing breaths was enough.
He didn’t deserve this…
Tarhos directed him to the man’s backside, a long red hot poker in his hand. “You are going to be the one to end his misery, okay pet?”
Dwight stepped away from him, shaking his head, “n-no! Master… I-I can’t…”
“You can. You brought him into this, do you not think it fair that you to release him from it?”
He was crying again. All he ever could do was cry…
pathetic.
Tarhos grabbed him by the shoulder, positioning him right where he wanted behind the dying man. He handed him the poker, aligning to where he knew David’s hole would be. “You get one shot at this, pet. If you falter it’ll only make his death worse. You must do it with all your strength.”
“I-I can’t!! I can’t!!!!” His hands trembled around the hot metal, his legs threatening to give out beneath him.
He didn’t deserve this!
He didn’t…
“You must…” He pressed his lips against Dwight’s ear, whispering, “do this right and you can go home.”
The world around him seemed to fade at the words for just a moment, his heart calming.
“H-Home…?”
“Yes, love.”
He had forgotten what home was like. All he has known for long has been that room… These nasty men he was forced to take. The beatings. The pain. The screaming…
Home… the small quiet neighborhood. His movie nights… his gaming with Jed… his nice comfy bed… his calls from Mom.
A-Anduin…
His Home.
He hadn’t even noticed he had obeyed the cruel command. He couldn’t even hear the man’s scream. Couldn’t even smell the burning flesh. Couldn’t see how his body shook as he died.
Home.
His feet moved on their own accord towards Macmillan.
His hands caressed the hand that held the gun.
His lips wrapped around the barrel.
He pulled the trigger.
Closing theme: Exit Music (for a film) by: Radiohead
Notes:
(ʃᵕ̩̩ ᵕ̩̩)
Thank you for reading this abysmal dogshite I called a story~! It truly means everything tae me.
My inner demons would not allow me to change my planned ending.
Do forgive me.I give a closing theme to every fanfiction I read. A certain someone’s has three.
SuperPsychedelic on Chapter 1 Sun 13 Apr 2025 04:05AM UTC
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