Chapter Text
Looking up at his captor from under his brow, escape plans race through Rhett’s mind. His fingers fiddle with the rope around his wrists, but as his hands go numb where they’re tied behind him, he loses the hope of getting out of them like that. The man’s eyes never leave him once as he paces in front of him, sly grin on his face. When he finally looks away, it’s at the knife in his hand. It glints in the single light hanging from the ceiling. If Rhett’s heart wasn’t throbbing in his throat with sweat pouring down his temples, he’d start to think he’s in a movie with how comically stereotypical this place is.
Twenty minutes ago a guy had caught him trying to sneak into Neal’s building and he’d been blindfolded and dragged here. When his blindfold was removed, he had been tied to this chair and this man was standing in front of him with that infuriating grin on his face. He wears a black t-shirt and black pants with a simple belt that has a silver buckle. There’s a silver signet ring on his right ring finger that glints in the light every time he turns just right. His boots thump imposingly on the concrete with every step he takes. Since his eyes are deeply set, all Rhett can see are shadows, but even so he would describe this man as objectively attractive. There isn’t a hair out of place where it’s pushed back on top of his head, sides closely shaved. That smile plays on full lips and the unnerving expression could only belong to one person: Charles Neal.
He has yet to speak. The man wanders in and out of the shadows in the dark room and there are plenty of them considering the single light source. Rhett shudders when he spots a drain in the floor. He thinks he can make out a door to his right, but otherwise all he has to look at is Neal.
With swift movements, Neal squats down to be on eye level with him, pressing the blade under his chin to make him look up. Rhett does so haltingly, fury in his eyes, until he meets the gaze of his captor. Until now his eyes have been completely and creepily in the shadows, but at this angle Rhett can really see them. They’re startlingly blue and edging on humane, but there’s a tinge of crazy in them that makes Rhett’s skin crawl.
Neal’s pupils dilate and he tilts his head slightly to the side. “You’re pretty,” he says, smooth voice flowing like water over Rhett’s frazzled nerves. Just like that he’s standing and pacing again, toying with the knife, eyes roaming all over Rhett. The immobilized man breathes in as deeply as he can, Neal’s words turning over and over in his mind. What the hell does he mean ‘you’re pretty?’
Freezing cold fingers start working at the button on his pants and Rhett squeezes his eyes shut. He hears the zipper being pulled down in a damning way before Neal gently lifts his shirt. White hot pain follows in the form of two meticulous cuts in the soft skin of Rhett’s lower abdomen. He grimaces when Neal pulls away, examining his work. He doesn’t have to open his eyes to know what it is. It’s Charles Neal’s signature, an “L” shape cut into the stomach of every one of his victims. It means the hangman has taken hold of the lever and he is now condemned.
He nearly has a heart attack when cold fingers brush over the nape of his neck and Neal laughs as he walks back around to his front. “What do you know about me, Rhett McLaughlin?”
Rhett tilts his head back and looks at him again, trying to gather some confidence. But Neal is still grinning and running the knife through his hands, head tipped to the side. The truth is, he knows only four things about Charles Neal: his name, he has a file that Rhett’s agency wants, he is to be feared, and no one who encounters him survives.
The dark haired man sticks out his full bottom lip in a pout. “‘S that too hard for you, honey? Here, let me start because I know a lot about you.” He steps forward and reaches a hand towards Rhett’s face, making him flinch. His grin only widens as he slides his palm along Rhett’s jaw and lets his thumb rest on his bottom lip. Rhett has the urge to bite it and then he gets the urge to lick it. Ultimately he does neither, instead keeping his gaze glued to the shadows where Neal’s eyes are. The cold metal of the ring on his finger is chilling against his jaw.
“Rhett James McLaughlin,” he sighs, thumb moving lightly over his lips, “Your mother is Diane, such a sweet woman.” He flat out giggles when Rhett’s eyes widen with fear. “Don’t worry sweetheart, I have no qualms with her. You prefer tea over coffee, woulda thought different of a man who looks like you. But you defy all the expectations your looks set, dontcha baby?” He watches every miniscule movement of Rhett’s face, grin widening as fear takes over his features. “You own a sweater that has cacti on it that you wear a lot when you’re off duty. It’s cute.” Fear isn’t a strong enough word to describe the emotion flooding his system right now. He feels like he could die from mental overload before Neal ever even starts killing him.
“You’re hot when you’re scared,” he whispers, leaning in close enough that Rhett can feel his breath on his face. It smells like spearmint. Neal closes his eyes and breathes in deeply for several tense seconds before his eyelids flutter open again and he looks at Rhett with some semblance of concern. “That cut you got when chopping onions last week, is it healed?”
A tiny squeak of fear escapes Rhett’s throat. He expected torture, pain, manipulation, blood, but not this. This is worse than anything he trained for before becoming an agent. They don’t train you for Charles Neal. Rhett is only a few minutes in and he knows it would be impossible to train anyone for this. “Relax,” Neal breathes, leaning back and dragging his fingers along his cheek. His stance is wide as he stands in front of Rhett, not as close as before but too close for comfort. He bites his lip as he stares down at his captive and his hand drifts down to his own crotch and squeezes. Rhett breathes in sharply.
Stepping forward again, with surprising tenderness Neal threads his fingers into Rhett’s hair, lightly resting the knife against his jugular. “You should grow it out,” he says, fingers tightening against his scalp to indicate what he’s talking about. He presses the flat side of the knife against his skin and gazes at the sight, eyes going glassy as he whispers, “Could all be over so quick and easy.” He licks his lips and then his eyes are back on Rhett’s, focused again. “You have anything to say to me, honey? We could have a little more fun if you’d speak up. Given up on escape plans yet?”
Rhett takes a deep breath and nods once very slightly and the way Neal’s face darkens is terrifying. “Now where’s the fun in that?” he asks, yanking Rhett’s hair back and making him yelp. Neal leans into his ear, “I wanna hear you, sweetheart.” The quick switches between gentle and harsh are driving Rhett insane. He squeezes his eyes shut, wishing for this to end.
“Ah!” he shouts in surprised pain when there’s a quick swipe of the knife across his chest and a thin prickling follows. He can’t look down at it, but he feels the blood beginning to seep into his ripped shirt. His eyes snap open to find Neal so close that their noses are almost touching.
“You look at me when I am speaking with you,” he growls, “Do you know anything about me, Rhett?”
“Your name is Charles Neal. You have a file my agency wants. No one escapes you alive. That’s all I know,” Rhett rushes to say, lips nearly brushing Neal’s in the process.
A grin creeps onto the villain’s face, causing Rhett’s breath to get caught in his throat like he’s going to cry. “I know so much more about you, Rhett,” he says in a voice dripping with pity and arrogance. “I know you only played basketball in highschool because your father wanted you to. I know you thought about cheating on your last girlfriend and you were almost relieved when she did it first. I know you like it rough-” His hand is around Rhett’s throat, pressing gently, “-in bed.” A tear gathers in the corner of Rhett’s eye and Neal tracks it as it slides down his face and into his beard. With a decisive squeeze, he lets go of Rhett’s neck, hand now trailing lightly down the top of his thigh. “You should learn some more about me. I don’t like tomatoes. I didn’t have a father. I like pretty boys.” He slashes the blade across Rhett’s bicep and this time he just breathes in sharply, having been prepared because he watched him do it. This cut is shallower and the pain dulls more quickly.
“You gonna whine for me, pretty boy?” Neal asks, wiping the blood off of the blade on Rhett’s pants where he can see it.
“Depends on what you have planned,” Rhett says in a shaky voice, the bit of confidence coming from seemingly nowhere; probably from knowing that this villainous mastermind doesn’t like tomatoes.
Neal grins, “Oh look at that, honey, speaking without being threatened. Don’t act tough, sweetheart, I know you can’t take much. You barely passed your torture training and I have so much planned.” His eyes widen with glee and he drags the tip of the knife along Rhett’s cheek, making the restrained man wince. “Don’t worry, darlin’, I won’t hurt this gorgeous face. Permanently.”
“Are you gonna kill me, Neal?” Rhett asks quietly, eyes searching out Neal’s, but all he finds are shadows as the man’s lips curl into a smile.
“I don’t know, Rhett,” he says, brushing a fingertip over his temple, "Do you want me to kill you?” Rhett starts to shake his head no, so Neal’s smile widens and he says, ”Do you know what it means for you if I don’t kill you?” Rhett inhales sharply as Neal surges forward and drags his tongue up the shell of his ear. ”You’d be mine,” he whispers.
A confusing cocktail of emotions washes through Rhett, wires getting crossed between the intimacy and the danger, the way the tongue feels on his ear and the way the knife feels on his skin. Neal chuckles darkly, pulling back slowly and allowing his lips to ghost over Rhett’s cheek. “No one has ever chosen that option,” Neal warns lowly, staying close enough that Rhett can see his eyes. The blue is darker now than it was a few minutes ago and his pupils are impossibly wide. Rhett’s body responds to the physical language of Neal’s despite himself and in the silent stillness he can practically feel his own pupils dilate. Neal licks his lips and grins, unhinged and dangerous. “You gonna be brave, pretty boy?” the man breathes, hand curling around the back of his neck and slowly pulling him forward so he’s looking up into Neal’s face that is inches away.
Rhett gasps as Neal pulls back suddenly, bracing for some kind of impact as he lifts his boot, but none comes. Instead, he rests the heel of his shoe on the seat of the chair between Rhett’s legs and the bound man stares down at it with wide eyes. “Do you want to live, honey?” Neal asks. Rhett looks up at him, eyes sweeping over his face that is covered in a cocky grin. For some reason, Rhett’s mind casts back to a memory from a few nights ago when he had some time to himself. A blush flushes up his neck as he stares at Neal and his brain forces flashes of that evening through his mind, hand on his cock, teasing himself slowly. The abstract face of a powerful man had been on his mind as he came, expression sporting the same cocky grin Neal gives now.
“Yes,” he says, single syllable more confident than anything else he’s said this whole time, “If you’ll show me what that entails.” Neal has been smiling for most of the time since Rhett’s blindfold was removed, but his grin turns truly sinister for the first time now. His boot slowly starts pressing down on his confused clothed cock, giving pressure to the half hard length of it. A strangled groan escapes Rhett's throat as his dick is given pressure. It’s more painful than it is pleasurable, but it causes a wave of heat to surge through his body nonetheless.
“You can always change your mind, baby,” Neal reassures him, leaning his elbow on his knee as he watches Rhett react to the pressure of his boot. “I’ll show you what it’d be like to belong to me and then you can decide between that and death.” He removes his foot and his hand finds its place around Rhett’s throat again, “Everyone else has found death to be more forgiving.”
Rhett’s breaths get shallower and shallower as Neal squeezes until he can’t draw air in anymore. For the first few seconds he stays frozen, but then he starts yanking on the ropes around his wrists, mouth working around words that won’t come out. Neal just smiles, “Yeah, struggle for me, sweetheart.” When Rhett starts to feel his eyes roll back, Neal lets go and he draws in a heaving breath, coughing and choking on his saliva. The man steps around to stand at his side, leaning in to whisper in his ear, “How do you feel?” Rhett’s still sucking in breaths as the man walks around behind him and whispers in his other ear, “I can bring you closer to death than that. Euphoric, isn’t it?”
Rhett tries to straighten up and glare at him, but Neal just laughs at his weak attempt at malice and points the knife toward him. “Now, if I’m going to keep you, I need to look at you.” He starts to cut him out of his shirt and Rhett flinches at first, but the knife doesn’t end up touching him this time and Neal rips it the rest of the way off, leaving him bare-chested. The man licks his lips and almost like he can’t help it, leans forward and drags his tongue from Rhett’s navel to the base of his throat. When his mouth is gone, Rhett is left shivering, not only because that strip of skin feels cold now, but also because of the way his cock jumped at the action. Neal drags his fingertips along the cut he made on his right pec and lifts them to his lips, licking the blood off. Rhett grimaces, but his libido doesn’t back down.
Stepping up between his knees, Neal forces him to lean his head all the way back in order to keep looking at him. The smiling man sways backward and tilts his chin down, nasty glob of spit falling from his lips and landing directly on the crotch of Rhett’s pants. It takes a few moments for the moisture to sink through, but when it does, Rhett swallows hard. “Eventually, we’ll get those off,” Neal says. He toys with the knife like he’s trying to decide what to do with it, eyes drifting over Rhett’s body, abs flexing and chest heaving with uneven breaths. Gingerly, he drags the flat edge of the knife over Rhett’s nipple, causing him to breathe in sharply and let out a barely there moan, eyelids fluttering before he remembers he’s supposed to keep them open.
“That’s a good boy,” Neal murmurs and the statement goes straight to Rhett’s dick. As confusing as this situation is to his mind and body, his cock knows he’s heard that sentence in a pleasurable context before. “You’d find me attractive if I were a normal guy, wouldn’t you, Rhett?” asks Neal, head tilting to the side again. Rhett’s eyes sweep over him, taking him in differently. The truth is he probably would and he doesn't want to tell him that. He also doesn’t want to tell him that right now as his dick starts to think for him, he’s becoming more and more attractive purely because of the insanity in his eyes. Rhett does like it rough in bed, but apparently there are some things he has yet to discover about himself.
With a steady hand, Neal presses the blade into the skin just below Rhett’s collar bone, causing a thin line of pain to spark Rhett’s nerve endings. The blade stays steady and he follows Neal’s hand as it drifts down down down, finally stopping to barely touch the bulge in his pants, making Rhett groan. Neal grins, pulling the knife away. “I’m willing to bet a big guy like you has got something to brag about,” he says with a smirk. Taking hold of the back of the chair, Neal shoves hard enough that the chair tips. Immobilized, all Rhett can do is shut his eyes as he's falling and hope the impact doesn’t break his wrists. At the last second, the man grabs the back of his neck and stops him from hitting the floor, pulling a surprised gasp out of Rhett. He opens his eyes to find Neal standing over him, feet on either side of the chair as he leans into Rhett's face and laughs. "At some point, you'll have to start trusting me, baby," he growls.
Rhett swallows, breaking eye contact as his gaze runs up Neal's arm, admiring the strength of the muscles holding him up, keeping his hands from being crushed. Slowly, Neal pulls him up again, walking backwards until Rhett's chair slams back down on all four legs and Neal is straddling his lap. He has no choice but to look at the bulge in the other man's jeans, his brain producing a confused mixture of arousal and fear. He's beginning to think they're one in the same. He doesn't realize he'd subconsciously leaned forward until Neal's fingers grip his hair to stop him. “That’s interesting,” the man above him murmurs. Rhett looks up at him, lips parting slightly as he thinks about this angle in another context. “Your lips would look pretty wrapped around my cock,” he says like he’s thinking about it for the first time and then he pushes Rhett’s face into his crotch.
He groans and his shoulders relax for the first time since he saw Neal as he inhales the musky smell of him. It feels so utterly and incredibly wrong, but the longer Neal’s hardness presses into his cheek, the more he doesn’t care. Wrists pulling against his binds, he longs to run his hands up Neal’s thighs. Suddenly, the man steps back, expression looking equal parts victorious and burned. The power balance has shifted. Not much, but a little. Where Rhett felt like he had zero power before, he now feels like he has taken at least five percent of it. Neal is a man who always has one hundred percent of the power. “Why were you sent on this mission?” Neal asks, voice very slightly strained.
“I’m one of the best,” Rhett answers simply, emboldened enough to speak since he seems to have shaken the man. He’s comfortable in his fear now, having accepted the idea that he will never understand what Neal is capable of.
Neal reaches behind himself and Rhett’s eyes are drawn to the way his shirt stretches over his abdomen and rides up a little bit, showing a tantalizing piece of skin. Then he brings his hand back around and Rhett is distracted in a different way. He has a gun in his hand and he clicks off the safety, eyes on Rhett to make sure he saw it. He holds the two weapons in his palms, almost in offering to Rhett, almost like he’s weighing them, balancing them. “Which would you choose to die by?”
Rhett swallows hard, gaze flitting between the gun and the knife. He was too comfortable in his fear, too naive to think you can make a deal with a criminal. He should have known he didn’t have a choice between death or life, even if that taunted life would have been in service to this man. From what he’s seen to this point, that kind of life might be worse than death. His mind helpfully reminds him of his moments with his face pressed to this man’s crotch. Maybe that life would be heaven. Neal tilts his head, “Lose your voice again, sweetheart? I thought we were making progress.”
“I’d want to die by the gun,” Rhett says quietly.
Neal sighs, wrapping his fingers around the weapon to hold it properly. “But guns are so much less sexy,” he practically pouts, “Then again, I could make anything sexy, don’t you think?” He touches the tip of the gun just above Rhett’s waistband and trails it up until he gets to his throat, leaving goosebumps in his wake. The cold circle of metal presses in hard to the base of his throat until Rhett gags at the feeling and Neal laughs. Bringing the gun up to his own face, he drags his tongue up the barrel. Impulsively, he points the gun over Rhett’s shoulder and pulls the trigger. For a moment, Rhett could swear he was dead. The first thing he hears when his ears stop ringing is Neal’s manic laughter. The gun waves around disconcertingly as he throws his head back and laughs. Almost like a switch is flipped, he comes back to himself and looks at Rhett, grin still on his face. Rhett hisses in pain when he presses the hot barrel of the gun to his shoulder, burning the skin. He leans in and whispers, “I would never be so cruel as to end your life with a stupid old bullet, dear.”
Like before, he holds out the weapons. “Which would you choose to be tortured with?”
Now feeling a level of exasperation after the gunshot, Rhett thinks for longer on this one. A little smile plays over his lips as he looks up at Neal and answers, “Your hands.”
His eyebrows rise in surprise, gazing at Rhett before a smirk appears on his face, “Good choice, darlin’.” The knife and the gun clatter to the floor on either side of Rhett and Neal’s hands are around his neck, quick as a flash. They feel warm on Rhett’s bare skin, but then it hurts as he squeezes and dark spots dance in Rhett’s vision. This time though, he surrenders to it.
Neal senses the difference and smiles, loosening his grip while still keeping some pressure, face so close that Rhett can see the different shades of blue in his irises. “When you die, Rhett, do you think you will go to heaven or hell?”
Rhett draws in a ragged breath and says, “It doesn’t matter because the devil is standing right in front of me.”
The man grins toothily and lets go of Rhett’s neck, causing him to go into a coughing fit. “You’ve got me pegged, pretty boy,” Neal admits, waiting until he’s gotten ahold of his breathing to unbuckle his belt. Rhett’s eyes widen and a million scenarios fill his head. Neal just chuckles and then lashes out. The leather hits Rhett’s calf with a snap and makes him shout in pain. “Are you really one of the best, baby?”
“I thought you knew everything about me,” Rhett snarls.
“Ooh, finally some venom,” Neal taunts, “I want to know if you think you’re the best.”
“If I wasn’t good, they wouldn’t have sent me on a case involving you,” Rhett explains, testing the binds around his ankles.
“I do have a bit of a reputation, don’t I?” says Neal before whipping the belt again, this time hitting Rhett on the crotch and making him buck in the chair, whimpering in pain. A touch of the arousal comes back. His eyes are still closed tight, so he jumps when he feels a hot breath on his skin, right above where his neck meets his shoulder. He feels Neal push his already undone pants out of the way, slipping his fingers into the waistband of his underwear and Rhett reacts with an outright whine. “Want to get a look at this cock before I decide whether you live or die,” Neal says lowly in his ear. Rhett exhales harshly as his dick is exposed to the cool air, Neal’s hands surprisingly gentle at the moment. He shivers as fingertips ghost up his cock and tease over the head, coaxing him to hardness.
“You don’t want this to feel this good, do ya, sweetheart?” Neal asks when he finally wraps his hand around it. Rhett bites his lip and shakes his head, brain grappling with him over the sharply juxtaposing emotions washing through him. “Surrender to me,” Neal breathes before biting down on his shoulder and starting to roughly stroke his cock. Rhett groans at the mixture of pain and pleasure, truly following Neal’s suggestion once enough precum covers his dick to make the strokes smooth. His head falls back and Neal keeps biting down, slowly increasing the pressure. He blames the fact that he’s this aroused so quickly on the majorly intense emotions he’s been through today and finally lets the pleasure flow through him unfettered. His hips work to thrust up into his captor’s fist and he can feel Neal smile against his shoulder where he’s still biting down. It begins to seriously throb, but the friction on his dick is distracting enough to keep him from focusing on it. Breath speeding up as he nears climax, Rhett groans when he feels Neal’s bulge press into his thigh. The man chuckles through his teeth where he’s still latched onto Rhett. It hurts enough now that his hips start to stutter. The bulge in the other man’s pants presses down more and Rhett gasps as the arousal and pain both become too much. Just as Neal’s teeth break the skin, Rhett thrusts up one more time and shoots cum up his chest.
Neal steps back and stares at Rhett whose chest is heaving, wiping his hand on his captive’s pants. Rhett watches him lick the blood off his lips and notices his eyes drifting to the place he bit a few times. “Do you want to die, honey?” Neal asks, tilting his head.
“No,” Rhett says between breaths.
Grinning, Neal slaps him hard across the face and the ring on his finger hurts especially, before grabbing his chin and forcing him to look in his eyes. “Then you belong to me.” He rears back and hits him again, hard enough to knock Rhett out. The last thing he sees is that gorgeous face and crazy eyes.