Work Text:
“Let's go over this one more time.” The man states, no question in his tone. He’s authoritative, confident.
“You’re going to take me. Away.” The smaller man confirms, staring at the fading bruises decorating his skin in the mirror. “I’m going to fight you, but ultimately let you have your way with me, because I want you to take control. Take my agency, my choice, and run with it.”
“What else?” The man says, not as a curiosity, but a command to speak the rest out loud.
“I want you to make it hurt. I want to see my blood on your knuckles, I want to fear for my life.”
The man nods, walking over to him and placing a gentle kiss on his forehead. The ache of his devotion is sweet, and echoes throughout the yellowing marks across his body.
⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡
The neighborhood is quiet at this time of night. Viktor rolls his neck, the ache of the day settling deep in his bones. He breathes a quiet sigh of relief, knowing that he has the next several days off of work. Taking a break isn’t something Viktor is used to, but he knows he has been needing it.
He’s looking forward to sitting at home, on his abused and worn-out couch, drinking hot tea and listening to his old records in front of the fireplace.
Crossing the kitchen on his way to his living room, Viktor sees that his garbage can is full.
He tilts his head back and sighs again, this time in exasperation because of his common tendency to forget to take the trash out, especially when the city only runs it once a week. If he doesn’t take it out now, there is no way he is going to wake up at the ass-crack of dawn to drag his sleep-riddled body outside into the chilly morning in order to beat the garbage truck.
Viktor sets his mug of hot tea on the corner of his kitchen island, reaches down, and ties the bag of trash closed. With one hand wrapped around the head of his cane and the other gripping the plastic of the bag, he moves towards the back door.
The trash cans that the city requires he use are pulled up to the side of the house, so Viktor has to throw the bag inside and then roll it down to the edge of the driveway.
The night air is cold. Viktor’s pajama shorts and silken shirt aren’t nearly enough to keep him from trembling as he makes his way to the trash bin. He hurries his steps, the sound of his slippers on the concrete loud and joined only by the soft sound of the breeze rattling through the trees, stripped bare of their leaves from the grasp of winter. Nothing alive, bug or bird, makes its presence known, either too cold to be active or too late to be awake.
So it’s the sound of the plastic bag falling into the pit of the trash bin that echoes through the thin alley of Viktor’s driveway. Then, the scraping of the plastic wheels along the pavement as he pulls it down the length of the concrete. He reaches the curb in front of his house, tilting the trash can back onto its base and shaking his hand out from where it was gripping onto the frigid plastic.
Viktor looks around. None of the houses surrounding his own have any lights on, inside or out. Viktor, for once, feels truly and utterly alone where he stands. It’s a rarity for him to feel this… isolated. He’s usually surrounded by lab techs and professors at work, and when he is home he doesn’t usually have the privilege of time to himself. The people in his life often call him a workaholic, beg him to come out to bars or dinners with them, but he usually refuses in favor of going home and sleeping until the ache of the day starts to fade from his body, seeping into the mattress and leaving him empty of the previous day’s troubles.
The fog of his breath crosses his vision and pulls Viktor from his thoughts. His skin is starting to go numb, so he pivots and makes his way back up the driveway. He walks through the side gate and to the darkened back porch of his house, stepping towards the glass door and reaching his hand out to turn the handle. He thinks of his tea, steeping and hot on the countertop, and the pseudo warmth of the thought trickles down his throat in excitement.
As his fingers wrap around the doorknob, he stills.
Something makes him stop. Prevents him from turning the knob and walking inside the warmth of his home.
He stares at his hand, wrapped around the cold metal. His eyebrows stitch down his forehead.
He breathes in, and out. A cloud of his oxygen greets him again.
As he inhales once more, the frosted exhale of another wraps around his neck from behind, filtering through his vision and creating swirling patterns in the chilled air around his face.
The first emotion that processes is confusion.
Maybe he just… imagined it. It’s late, he’s tired. Or, maybe the wind swirled around him, carrying his own icy exhale back into his periphery.
But when it happens again and the hair on the back of his neck stands up, he feels only one thing.
Fear.
Viktor inhales sharply, but before he can even straighten his back and turn to meet whoever is standing behind him, a large, warm hand wraps around his face and slaps over his mouth.
An interrupted scream tries to punch out of his throat, but the hand covers both his nose and his mouth, so he only feels the burn of his lungs being prevented from releasing air as another hand emerges into view from behind him. Viktor tries to pull the hand away from his face, but all he can do is sink his nails into heated skin due to the strength behind the grasp.
He is pressed back into a body, firm, hot and massive. A large Bowie knife glints in the moonlight, only visible in the corner of his eye.
Viktor has never been one to let his emotions get ahead of him, but the sudden rush of horror that ignites throughout his system nearly pulls him unconscious. His vision blurs suddenly, then sharpens to pin-point precision as the blade is drawn closer to his throat.
The hand holding his face tilts his head up in order to expose his neck.
When the frozen metal touches his skin, Viktor can’t control his bladder, quickly feeling the burning heat of his fear trail down his legs and splash onto the concrete.
He tries to stay still, unable to properly put into words the way his mind is spiraling and twisting his reality in order to try and protect him, but his bones rattle within his skin and his eyes shake in their sockets. He knows this is real.
“Hi, there.”
The voice, a low, seductive timbre that would usually cause a curious heat to arise in Viktor’s chest, whispers in his ear and causes him to close his eyes and tremble.
“Open the door.” The voice commands, stern. When Viktor doesn’t move— still frozen in a mixture of shame and horror— the ice of the blade presses tighter into his throat, just the slightest movement away from adding blood to the puddle at his feet.
Viktor focuses as hard as he can on regaining control of his muscles and twists the doorknob of the back door open. As soon as it’s unlatched from the hinge, the man pushes his body forward, crowding Viktor into the warm air of his kitchen.
Viktor’s cane clatters to the ground as it is abandoned outside, left to freeze in the puddle of his fear which stains the concrete dark. In other circumstances, Viktor would feel utter humiliation at the fact that he pissed himself, but right now he can’t even fathom caring.
The man uses his boot to close the door behind them, then pushes Viktor through the kitchen and into the adjoining dining room.
Viktor feels dizzy, the blood in his face draining as he catches a glimpse of rope wrapped around the man’s arm.
He almost feels like he can take a sigh of relief when the blade is pulled from his neck. The man then pulls a dining room chair out from underneath the table, twisting it on one of its legs to face the two of them.
“Here, why don’t you have a seat?” The man taunts, his voice a burn across Viktor’s frozen nape.
Viktor doesn’t move, too confused and scared to do anything with the palm still covering his mouth. Slowly, the man pulls it away, leaving Viktor untouched.
Viktor has no idea what this man is planning to do with him, but the images flashing throughout his head offer him no favors. Only the worst comes to mind, which causes Viktor’s emotions to flip. He would fall to his knees if he wasn’t worried the man would do something drastic at the sudden movement. Before he knows it, words are spilling from his lungs as he looks down at the chair.
“Please, you can take anything you want— Please! Please, please please—” He begs, the sounds spilling out of his mouth like acid. Viktor hopes to get his desperation across in only a few mere words, but as he pleads he only hears an exasperated sigh.
The man grips onto his shoulder painfully, twisting his body around and pushing him down hard into the chair.
Viktor’s vision swirls around him from the forcefulness, his ass slamming into the wooden seat and causing a loud gasp to leave his throat from the pain that rattles up his tailbone. When he gets his bearings, he watches the man crouch down and begin to tie his ankles to the legs of the chair.
Without thinking, his body acts before his brain and he uses his free leg to kick the man swiftly across the stomach.
He barely moves, barely grunts in pain. He only grips onto Viktor’s ankle and quickly ties it down as well. It’s not tight enough that blood flow would be restricted, but still would be impossible to get free from without a blade and a free hand.
Viktor’s brain finally registers that he just kicked the man, his body flushing with another spike of panic at the realization of just how stupid that was.
“Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to— please, don’t hurt me, I wasn’t thinking!”
The man stands up, his towering form casting a shadow from the light haloing around his head in the ceiling above them. Viktor can’t see what he looks like, only the massive shape his body takes.
He then circles Viktor, quickly tying his hands into the rungs of the wood behind his back. His shoulder blades dig uncomfortably into the wood of the chair as his wrists are pulled tightly together.
Viktor’s breath quickens in his lungs, his vision starting to fade from the pure, unbridled fear that courses through his veins.
He barely sees as the man moves in front of him again, but he feels it when the back of a hand smacks across his cheekbone.
His throat releases a quick scream and his skin burns from the hit. The tears that have been building finally start to fall from his eyes and cool the sting as they trail down his cheeks.
Viktor doesn’t say anything else, shocked back into his body. His vision sharpens again and his brain is wiped of everything.
Well, nearly everything. The terror still remains, sluicing through his body and stirring within his gut. His nausea creeps up his throat, but he swallows it down in order to turn his head and look up at the man.
He tries to leave his face void of emotion, needing to show the man that he is placated, that he can leave him alone, that he won’t be fun to torture. He thinks it works, but when the man steps into the light and Viktor sees the smug look on his exposed, sickeningly handsome face, hope drains from his system as quickly as it appeared.
The man leans down into Viktor’s space. His eyes burn a deep hazel, darkened from whatever disturbing thoughts are swirling around in his head right now. His skin is tan, but mostly covered in pitch black clothing. He wears dark jeans that hug his thighs tight, and a long sleeve turtleneck that hugs his arms and chest. He also wears a black beanie on top of his head, his short cropped hair mostly hidden underneath. Viktor thinks that he would find him devilishly attractive if the man weren’t looming over him with a blade and a smile pulled onto his lips.
He looks the part. The intruder, the abuser, and to Viktor’s ultimate horror, the rapist.
“What’s your name?” The man questions, voice low and calm.
Viktor shakes in the chair, causing it to rattle against the vinyl flooring. The man tilts his head, his smile dropping at Viktor’s non-response.
“V–Viktor. It’s Viktor.” he blurts out, his voice cracking.
The man hums, his breath fanning over Viktor’s face, cooling the reddened skin.
“Tell me, Viktor, do you often make it a habit to leave your house in the middle of the night, alone, unprotected?”
Viktor shakes his head. He doesn’t.
“Well, not that it matters now, but you really should have been more careful.”
Viktor trembles again, his stomach clenching from adrenaline. “What do you mean, ‘not that it matters now’?” He asks, his voice shaking. He realizes after the words leave his mouth that he doesn’t want to know the answer.
The man simply stands up straight, looking at him. His full smile is back, as if his face is saying ‘what do you think’ without needing to use his words. A sob breaks from Viktor’s chest when the man flashes his sharp canines and more tears fall down his face.
Viktor imagines those teeth, dripping thick with vibrant, red blood drawn from Viktor’s own veins and smothered across his lips. The vision wracks his body with a horrified chill.
In his fear-riddled mind, he had forgotten about the knife until it was suddenly pulled back up into the space between their bodies. The thing is massive— several inches of steel darkened from black oxidation— and extremely sharp. It causes the cries within Viktor’s chest to halt, his breath sucked in sharp from the fresh reminder.
“My name is Jayce. It’s nice to make your acquaintance, Viktor.”
The way the man says his name— so casually— strikes anger deep into his gut, like an animal backed into a corner with no way of escape. Viktor has to bite back the snarl threatening to emerge from his throat as he watches the tip of the knife descend towards him, hovering just centimeters over the fabric of his stomach as Jayce dances it in the air along Viktor’s front.
Viktor feels his breath quicken in his chest again at the blade so close to his body, feeling the pressure of it, the slice of it without the metal ever touching the skin.
Jayce looks down between Viktor’s legs, smiling as Viktor attempts to close them as much as he can with his ankles being tied as they are.
He drags the knife down, finally letting the tip of it caress the fabric of his shorts, still damp and ruined from his urine. The knife tip slides gently up the inside of one of his thighs, the sharp sensation pushing into his trembling skin, but not enough to puncture the fabric.
“Come on, baby. Spread your legs for me.”
Viktor trembles with a ferocity now, alarm sluicing through the connections in his brain as he shakes his head in defiance.
The calm smile drops from Jayce’s face as he reels back and hits Viktor once more, slapping his palm across Viktor’s cheek. Viktor’s head whips to the side before Jayce grips his chin in one large hand and forces their eye contact.
“Spread. Your. Fucking. Legs.”
Viktor releases a wet breath, sobbing as he slowly parts his legs farther, allowing Jayce more room to explore with the knife.
Without a verbal acknowledgement, Jayce looks down between Viktor’s thighs again as he traces the tip of the knife further inward, until the point of it presses sharply on his pubic bone. Viktor tries with all his might to stay still to prevent accidentally causing the knife to break the skin through his shorts.
Sudden and smooth as silk, Jayce moves to draw the blade underneath the clothing covering one of Viktor’s thighs, and slices through the fabric. Viktor yelps in shock and flinches as he feels the shorts part and slide down his skin, Jayce quickly slicing the knife through the material covering the other leg before pulling the piss-ruined fabric out from underneath him.
He’s left in nothing but his silk pajama shirt and underwear; a simple blue pair of panties with a small bow on the front. Viktor trembles in shame, mad at himself for even feeling embarrassment over his clothing choices right now.
Jayce pulls him out of his head by knocking his knees open, spreading his legs apart again.
“Please— Jayce, you don’t have to do this—” Viktor sobs, his chest rattling with each breath he takes, his body on the verge of hyperventilation.
Jayce only looks down at him, reaches the hand forward that doesn’t hold the knife, and rips open the buttons of his pajama top. It doesn’t take much; Jayce has proven himself strong, just by the way he pushed Viktor into the house without much force. Viktor hears the sound of buttons falling to the floor around him.
Jayce hums, a satisfied sound, as he looks down Viktor’s now exposed torso.
Viktor was about to go to sleep, so he took off the bra he had been wearing earlier in the day. His small breasts are now out in the open, vulnerable to the chill of his exposure that has flooded the room. Jayce looks them over and watches as his nipples harden before bringing the knife back up to Viktor’s throat.
“You’re very beautiful, Viktor. Did you know that?” Jayce says as he presses the tip against his skin again. The cold metal leaves an angry red line down his chest where Jayce traces it along his body. He slides it down the middle of his sternum before circling the peak of one of his breasts. Viktor internally continues his begging, hoping by some grace of God that Jayce will just stop.
But he doesn’t. Viktor continues to shake, his teeth hurting from how hard he clenches his jaw.
“You can quit crying now.” Jayce whispers, annoyed. Viktor realizes that the stream of tears that have fallen down his face trail a path of cool wetness along the column of his throat and down the center of his sternum.
As Viktor attempts to stifle his cries, Jayce picks up where he left off, continuing to slide the tip of the massive blade down Viktor’s stomach, around his navel, over the tender flesh that protects his uterus until it meets the hem of his underwear. Viktor closes his eyes, wishing he could faint or fall unconscious somehow. Whatever Jayce has planned, he feels like he is suffocating from the fear wrapping around his throat.
“Open your eyes, Viktor.” Jayce’s voice sternly demands. Viktor hesitates, afraid to follow his order and see what he knows is Jayce hovering the blade directly over his cunt.
When a hand grips the hair at the back of his head, he rips his eyes open.
“I said watch, or you’re not gonna like where I shove this knife.”
Viktor blows a terrified breath out at the threat, and Jayce slowly tilts his head down towards the apex of his thighs where he indeed has the knife hovering just centimeters away from his cunt.
As soon as Viktor’s eyes land on the blade, he watches in slow motion as Jayce presses the tip onto the clothed bulge of his small cock. It’s not painful, just shocking, his nerves jumping and his body clenching from the sudden pressure of the cold metal tip.
Viktor’s thighs quake as Jayce begins to trace the tip of the knife up and down the short length of his cock, tiny little movements that ignite a gruesome fear in Viktor’s gut every time he feels the blade shifting against the wet fabric.
“Please… Jayce…” Viktor whispers a plea, a cry, a beg. He knows it’s stupid to ask him to stop, he knows he’s not going to get what he wants.
All he hears in return is a sigh, before Jayce pulls the blade away from Viktor and stands up straight.
“You know, I think we do something with that pretty little mouth of yours, hmm?”
Viktor’s shoulders shake with the force of his relief, the blade set onto the dining table as Jayce leaves the room without another word.
He looks around, trying to figure out a way to escape, to get his hands untied, but even if he could reach the knife, there’s no way he would be able to cut through the rope around his wrists without also slicing his skin open.
It’s not like he has a chance, anyways, when Jayce saunters back into the room confident as ever. He has the neck of Viktor’s most expensive vodka handle in his grasp, and he twists the cap as Viktor watches.
Viktor didn’t expect this, for Jayce to steal his liquor, but he supposes it’s way better than other things he could be doing right now.
Jayce raises an eyebrow at what must be a puzzled look on Viktor’s face.
“What, did you think I’m gonna be drinking this?” Viktor slowly nods his head after a long, uncomfortable pause. “Please, I fucking hate vodka.”
Without any further preamble, Jayce shoves the mouth of the bottle between Viktor’s teeth and tilts it back. He grips his chin in his free hand, forcing Viktor’s jaw open so that a large flood of liquor can slide down his throat.
Viktor gags around the intrusion, coughing and attempting to pull his head away from Jayce’s hand, but it doesn’t work. He only ends up with some of the vodka splashing out of his mouth and down the front of his body. The alcohol burns like fire where it slips into his lungs, and he chokes for a moment before catching his breath. Jayce watches him, and when he gets a chest full of air, he repeats the action, forcing more liquor down into Viktor’s stomach.
It’s irrational, and stupid, but Viktor can only think about the tea that he had warmed up before taking the trash out. It must still be on the countertop in the kitchen, cooled and forgotten in the mess of the night.
Jayce pulls the bottle away from his lips, letting Viktor cough and gag for a moment.
“Good thing you like the expensive shit, huh?” Jayce taunts, turning the bottle to look at the label. It’s one of Viktor’s highest proof liquors, so it’s only going to take a few more mouthfuls before the alcohol will start to affect him.
Jayce seems to know this too, so he presses the bottle back into Viktor’s mouth and forces several more mouthfuls down his throat.
When his stomach is full of the clear, burning liquid, Jayce relents. He twists the cap back on the bottle, setting it on the table to replace it with the knife once more. Viktor gags harshly and nearly vomits at the sight of the blade, about to open his mouth and scream at Jayce to just get it over with before Jayce speaks up first.
“I think… it’s time to move this party elsewhere.” He raises his eyebrow again, as if this is a game, a fun, casual night for him. It frustrates Viktor to his very core.
But he holds his tongue. He simply watches as Jayce laughs at the angry look on his face, sheaths the knife into his belt and disappears around the corner of the doorway again. Viktor’s eyes stay glued to the door frame, terrified and full of hate as he waits for whatever Jayce will be bringing back this time.
When the man appears around the corner once more, he has a large, padded blanket bundled in his arms. Confusion fills Viktor’s features, to which Jayce just laughs. It sparks a fire of vitriol to stir in Viktor’s gut once more.
He is tied up, rope burning into his skin, his panties soaked with piss and his stomach clenching from the alcohol that was shoved down his throat.
It’s demeaning, it’s horrifying, and Viktor is seeing red. He’s not sure if it’s the alcohol, or his own adrenaline, but something gives him just enough courage to bite back for the first time since he kicked the man’s stomach.
“Really? You nearly fuck me with a knife and now you’re bringing me a blanket?” He spits, ire lacing his tongue. “Pick a fucking side, you disgusting freak.”
Jayce stops, one foot in front of the other, genuine shock on his face. It’s not a proud expression, its a look of ‘how fucking dare you’ that spreads across his features.
If Viktor was asking for Jayce to get angry, well, he is getting his wish. Jayce throws the blanket onto the floor of the dining room before marching over to Viktor and looming over his body, which is surprisingly still through the rush of regret that curls up his throat.
“Say that again.” He says, his voice low and haunting.
Viktor takes a deep breath, looking directly into the man’s eyes.
“I said, you’re a fucking freak.”
Jayce nods.
He just… nods. He doesn’t make a move to hit him again, he doesn’t speak up in retaliation, he just stares and nods. For several seconds, they look at each other, and the dark features bleeding across Jayce's face causes Viktor to start gasping for air again.
Jayce leans down, now only inches away. He ghosts his lips over Viktor’s before turning his head and nosing at the hair draped down the side of his face. He inhales through his nose, and Viktor swears that he hears a small groan escape Jayce’s lips as he takes in his scent. The scent of his piss-soaked clothing, his fear, his false bravado cracking like porcelain every single second that passes with Jayce this close to him.
“You’re gonna regret that later, when I rape that little cunt inbetween your thighs.” Jayce whispers. His voice curls along the shell of Viktor’s ear, each word reverberating down into his core as a slow, steady terror bleeds back into Viktor’s heart.
When Jayce stands back up, a solid fist slams across Viktor’s jaw, and unconsciousness finally, finally, takes him.
⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡
“Once you’re mine, you’re mine, do you understand?” He repeats for the third time that evening. The sun has dipped below the horizon, casting long purple streaks of light that filter into the living room through the glass of the back door.
“I understand. I know my limits, and so do you. I trust you.” The smaller man replies, wrapping himself in a soft blanket before sitting down onto the couch, a steaming mug of tea curled in his palms.
“Then that's all there is to say.” He announces to the chilly air that sweeps into the room as he opens the front door to leave. Before he steps out of the threshold, he turns back one last time. “The next time I see you, you won’t like who I am.”
The smaller man nods his head and smiles in agreement.
“I hope I hate him.”
⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡
Viktor’s head is throbbing.
His eyes open slowly, the first thing he is aware of being the quick flashes of orange light in his blurry vision and a gentle rumble that vibrates his body.
Drowsy from the hit to his jaw and the alcohol still washing throughout the interior of his stomach, Viktor tries to right himself, soon realizing that he can’t.
Sparks. Everything, each individual horrifying second of the night sweeps through Viktor’s mind, reminding him that he is not safe; he is in fact in extreme danger right now. He licks his lips at the pulse of pain in his face, tasting copper. Jayce must have split his lip when he knocked him out.
“Ah! There you are. I was thinking you were never gonna wake up!”
The voice forces Viktor’s eyes to snap to the front of the car. The car. He’s lying down in the backseat of a car.
Viktor attempts to right himself again before realizing that his hands and feet are tied together, and the seatbelt of the car is wrapped around him in a way that prevents him from sitting up.
“Snug? It wouldn't be much fun if we got into a wreck on the way there and you snapped your neck, now would it?” Jayce chuckles to himself in the front seat as if he’s going for a casual Sunday drive, and not abducting Viktor in the middle of the night and taking him somewhere unfamiliar.
Viktor rests his head down against the fabric of the car seat, attempting to even out his breathing. He closes his eyes and for the first time in a long time, he prays. He prays that this is all some fucked up dream that his overworked brain has conjured. He prays that Jayce will show him mercy, he prays that said mercy will be swift.
Anxiety makes itself known again, curdling deep in the base of his spine. The rumbling of the car is no longer a soothing feeling, instead adding to the shaking of his body until the nausea creeping up his throat almost becomes too much to bear.
He gags once, catching Jayce’s darkened eyes in the rear view mirror. His mouth salivates, his stomach cramps, his eyes blur with tears.
“Don’t fucking throw up in my car.” Jayce barks, his voice a stark contrast to the timbre that it was before. “You’re already a mess, I’m not cleaning your vomit out of the seat.”
As if that helps, Viktor begrudgingly thinks to himself, but by some stroke of luck, he is able to swallow past the saliva pooling in his mouth and breathe through the nausea. If he’s honest, it helps him focus on one singular point, one tiny task that keeps his brain functioning beyond the terror that continues to thread itself throughout his grey matter.
“Besides,” Jayce speaks up again, his voice rising with twisted glee. “We’re here.”
Viktor whimpers, his eyes burning with unshed tears. He has no fucking idea how long they have been driving, and just now realizes that even if he were to escape, he has no sense of direction or establishing location. He would simply wander until he was either rescued, or dead.
The thought is interrupted by Jayce pulling the car up what feels like a gravel driveway of some sort and shifting the car into park.
When Jayce gets out of the car, Viktor gasps, wringing his wrists in a pathetic attempt to rip them from the rope. It’s useless as he sees Jayce walking around the front and throwing the door closest to his feet open.
The chill of the night air hits him first as Viktor looks down his body, seeing Jayce’s blood-curdling canines glinting in the moonlight. Before he can react and try to kick the man’s face, Jayce grips him tight around his left ankle, reaches around him to unwind the seatbelt and pulls him out of the car. Viktor lands onto the gravel with a harsh thud, his shirt being rucked up and his back scraping against the rocks painfully as Jayce drags him a short distance away from the car.
Viktor cries out, which only pulls a darkened laugh from Jayce’s throat as his leg is released.
“Better, right? Sit up.”
Viktor whines from the pain radiating up the skin of his back, but obeys without thinking. He rights himself the best that he can with his wrists and ankles still tied. When he does so, Jayce grabs his chin in one of his hands, wiping away a streak of wetness that has once again started to flow from Viktor’s eyes. Viktor trembles from the mixture of adrenaline and winter swirling their fogged breaths in between their faces.
“If only you could see yourself right now, Viktor.” He purrs, his eyes shining with a fervor that Viktor has never seen in a man before. It strikes Viktor in the center of his chest, nearly cracking him in two where he sits on the gravel.
Jayce stands up straight, and continues. “In fact…”
He turns and opens the passenger side door to the car, digging through his glovebox and pulling out— fuck— that’s a polaroid camera.
Viktor imagines that when they find his body, the only evidence of what has happened to him tonight will be the photo that Jayce is raising the camera up to his face to take.
He doesn’t try to hide his body, or his crying, but he flinches hard from the scalding flash of white that blinds him temporarily. There’s no point; he either gets away alive, or dies at the end of this long, torturous rope and Jayce will still be in possession of this memory.
Pulling the photo from the camera and tucking it into the pocket of his jeans, Jayce throws the camera into the seat of his car before slamming all of the doors and moving towards Viktor again. Viktor inhales sharply, preparing himself to be dragged across the gravel again, but Jayce reaches down and wraps his arms around Viktor’s waist, throwing him roughly over his shoulder.
He doesn’t fight, he doesn’t kick, he doesn’t bite the man below him. He’s cold, and Jayce’s body is warm. He has to choose his battles, and this is barely a fight in the war he knows he will be trying to survive through soon.
Jayce carries him some distance, but Viktor can’t see anything. It’s too dark out. He thinks for a moment that he hears water splashing against a shoreline, maybe a lake? With a sense of heavy dread speeding throughout his body, he thinks for a moment that Jayce isn’t going to pull through with his threats and will decide to drop him off a dock and into the freezing cold water instead, leaving him to drown.
But he’s blessed, by some humorous god, and soon finds himself carried through the threshold of a doorway. When Jayce reaches over and flicks a lightswitch, Viktor is greeted by the sight of a small cabin’s interior.
There is a living room with a fireplace, a small kitchen in one corner, and a dining table that is eerily similar to his own at home. Above the door they just emerged through hangs a heavy, stark white pair of razor-sharp antlers. The bone seems to have been left out in the sun, bleached and chewed on by vermin. Viktor imagines the bones inside of his body falling victim to the same fate.
Without preamble, Jayce rolls Viktor off of his shoulder and onto the table. For once, he’s gentle as he places him down onto the wood, but Viktor doesn’t take it to heart, especially when he unties his wrists just to pull the torn shirt down his arms and off of his body.
“Jayce—” Viktor tries, but is ignored. Jayce takes the rope he just undid and uses it to tie one of his wrists to the table, wrapping the end around one of the corner legs securely. He pulls some more rope from god-knows-where and proceeds to secure his other wrist to the other corner, leaving him exposed and facing the ceiling of the cabin. His breathing picks up in speed at the way that Jayce gazes hauntingly over his chest.
Jayce takes another long piece of rope and wraps it around his waist, winding it underneath the tabletop in order to secure his hips down onto the wooden surface.
His mind feels blurred. As if he’s not completely there. He might as well be watching from above as he sees Jayce walk around to the opposite end of the table, untying his ankles and drawing the knife from his belt to cut the underwear off of his body. Jayce stabs the knife into the wood next to Viktor’s waist, causing him to flinch hard. Viktor realizes when he looks down at the knife next to his body that Jayce has left his feet unsecured. As much as he wishes he could do something with this, the way he is tied to the furniture leaves him mostly immobilized and only able to move his legs.
“Jayce, please—” Viktor cries, his body shaking as Jayce comes around to stand above his head. Jayce places both palms down onto the wood of the table next to Viktor’s face, looming over him with a devious smirk pulling the corners of his mouth.
“Comfortable?” Jayce taunts, his voice sickeningly sweet. Viktor sobs, shaking his head in an attempt at defiance. The scrapes running up the length of his back from being dragged over the rocks burn as he writhes on the table.
“That’s okay, Viktor. You don’t need to be comfortable for this.”
Viktor’s eyes widen as Jayce moves his hands to his own belt buckle. Starting to panic, he fights the ties around his wrists and tries to move his hips, but he can’t. He is left only with the dread that Jayce is about to cross that line.
When Jayce’s belt is unbuckled, Viktor looks straight up towards the ceiling, feeling his heartbeat skyrocket in his chest. Jayce leans over him again and palms underneath his jaw, gripping his chin with his fingers.
“Open your mouth, little fawn.”
Viktor tries to clamp his jaw shut, but Jayce just pries it open with the way he digs his fingers into his cheeks.
Then, Jayce spits on Viktor’s face. It lands underneath his eye, and to Viktor’s horror, Jayce leans down and licks the flat of his tongue across his cheek and slides it deep into Viktor’s open mouth. Viktor whimpers at the feeling, fighting to turn his head but unable to. When Jayce pulls back after several torturous seconds of tasting the inside of Viktor’s mouth, he smiles fully, driving a sharp alarm into the pit of Viktor’s stomach.
When he stands up straight and Jayce’s cock— large and flushed red— comes into view above his face, Jayce whispers a threat down at him.
“Bite me and I’ll slit your throat. This is your only warning.”
Jayce looks over to Viktor’s hand, tapping his wrist once. Viktor raises his thumb.
With all the confirmation he needed, He starts to guide his cock into Viktor’s mouth, his lips wrapping around the head as best he can with the angle. Viktor’s tears fall into his hairline, and his vision blurs. He closes his eyes, wanting to just get through it. It could be worse. It will get worse.
Jayce presses his cock deep into Viktor’s mouth until he hits the back of Viktor’s throat. He hears the man above him release a low curse, breathing heavily into the quickly heating air of the cabin. Viktor swallows around the flavor in his mouth, salty and thick from his precome.
Viktor lets him fuck into his mouth, too terrified of his threat to stop him. He sobs and gags around his cock as Jayce continues to fuck himself deeper into his throat, until Jayce’s balls are dragging across his forehead and saliva pools down the sides of his face.
“Fuck, Viktor, you’re so good for me…” Jayce pants, quickening his pace of rutting into Viktor’s mouth. Viktor’s tongue rubs flat against Jayce’s cock, causing the man above him to shudder as he climbs closer to his release.
Please, please just finish in my mouth. Let this be it, let it be over.
Viktor chants to himself in his head, his jaw going slack and his mind slowly detaching from his body, but right before he can fully dissociate Jayce rips himself out of Viktor’s throat and slaps him again. The shock pulls him right back into his head, and his eyes open wide at the sting across his face.
He looks back up to Jayce and has to bite back a scream at the anger boiling hot in his chest.
“There you are, thought I was losing you for a second. This isn’t any fun unless you’re here with me, now is it?”
Viktor snarls up at Jayce, finally able to snap his jaw shut and flash his teeth angrily.
Jayce just chuckles down at Viktor before shucking his pants down his legs and slowly rounding the table to stand at his feet. Viktor watches him like a hawk, unable to move but seething towards Jayce in an attempt to be threatening. He slams his knees together and prepares himself to start kicking.
“You’re probably wondering why I left your feet untied.” Jayce speaks up, as a matter of factly. He stands just outside of the range for Viktor to kick him, and peeks around his knees up towards his face. He shakes his beanie off and pulls his turtleneck over his head, letting the clothing fall to the floor once he is completely bare. Viktor trembles, both with anger and anxiety at this man, this beast, looming over him like Viktor is some prey animal, Jayce about to take his feast.
Viktor feels a hand slide up his ankle, and he flinches, attempting to reel his heel back and kick the man with all the strength he can muster.
But Jayce simply wraps his large hand around his calf, his fingers digging into his flesh so hard that it renders Viktor unable to move.
“It’s because I knew that here, in this last moment, right before I take your last shred of control and spit in the face of your autonomy, you would fight back.”
Viktor attempts to swing his weaker leg towards the man, who catches the ankle as it wails near his face.
“No!” Viktor yells, determined. He writhes and fights underneath Jayce’s grasp. “Fuck you! You’re sick! I will kill you!” He spits out, angry and boiling over, unable to think of his own safety as all he wants to do is kick Jayce’s skull in.
Jayce smiles, wide, mean, and disturbing. His teeth shine in the low light of the cabin, and his horrifying laughter fills the air along with the sounds of Viktor struggling on the tabletop.
“That’s it baby, fight me. Fight me and threaten me, imagine killing me in your head, picture ripping my throat out with your teeth, it’s only gonna make it so much sweeter for me when I break you for the last time, pushing myself inside of you and claiming you entirely.”
Gripping his calves tight enough to leave bruises, Jayce pulls his legs apart and climbs onto the table. Viktor’s breathing speeds up, watching his face as he draws it closer and closer to where Vikor wants it the least.
“Now, how terrible of a person would I be if I didn't let you come at least once?” Jayce sweeps his darkened eyes up his body, licking his lips as they hover just inches above his cunt. “Besides, I need a drink, I’m parched.”
Viktor jerks his hips as much as he can, but with the rope around his waist, he can barely move. Jayce wraps his strong arms around Viktor’s flailing legs, and makes his final descent.
When he slides his heated, slick tongue over Viktor’s cock, Viktor reels his head back and screams.
He looks up at the ceiling, not wanting to watch as he feels Jayce lick slowly through his folds. He shakes his head and clenches his teeth as Jayce presses his tongue deep inside of him, dragging the tip through his gathering slick and curling it up his cunt until he wraps his lips around the head of Viktor’s cock.
Viktor can’t fight off the sudden, soft moan that escapes his chest, so he proceeds to internally freak the fuck out.
This can’t feel good, it shouldn’t. He tries with everything inside of him to fight off the heat curling at the base of his spine, reaching up his throat with slender, gentle fingers and starting to drag him under at each swipe of Jayce’s tongue. He turns his head to stare at the antlers hanging above the entry door, but it only conjures a vision of sharp pointed bone impaling him through the chest. They stab painfully into his body, splinter through the wood of the table beneath him and further cage him down. His heart beats rapidly in his chest, fighting hard against the confines of his ribcage. He's trapped here, under immovable force, under bone and teeth, destined to this brutal undoing.
Viktor’s pupils dilate from the conflicting feelings warring within his body, feeling complete shame when his brain tries to tell him how good, how hot, how easy it would be to just give in and let the all-consuming pleasure take him.
He feels Jayce smile around him as he continues to lick and suckle on his cock, his tongue flicking against the tip and his lips sealing over Viktor's cunt.
Viktor feels more tears soak into his hairline. He shakes his head in one last push of defiance as the fight leaves his system, replaced with an obsessive hunger that curls his toes and tightens muscles in his stomach.
“Oh, fuck, please… Jayce—” Viktor cries out, begging for something, but his brain is too muddied to understand exactly what it is he’s begging for anymore.
Jayce only takes that as encouragement, sliding the flat of his tongue along his cock, pulling Viktor closer and closer to the edge he wishes to escape from. His hands shake next to his face, pulling against the restraints, unsure if he wants to push Jayce away or pull him closer and grind onto the heat of his mouth.
Viktor’s legs slowly stop fighting, instead they fall open, allowing Jayce more room to explore. Assault— his mind tries to supply, but it’s no use. Viktor lets his head fall back to the table with a heavy thump and when Jayce curls his lips around Viktor’s cock one last time and sucks hard, he can’t stop what happens next.
He doesn’t fall gracefully over that edge, he doesn't float, he doesn’t fly— Jayce throws him. Free falling with no parachute, his body seizes, his legs shaking and his voice cracking with his cries as heated pleasure washes over him and drowns his mind in overwhelming euphoria. His lungs burn with disgrace, his tears flow freely and his eyes roll far back into his skull.
As if possessed, Viktor lets the tongue working him through his orgasm pull each sobbing moan, each flinch, each drag of pleasure along his exposed nerves, siphoning directly into Jayce’s mouth before his body ultimately fails him. With the horrifying thought that he never wants it to end, he crashes hard back down to the ground, shame and guilt heavy on his heart
When he stops shaking, Jayce finally pulls his face away from between Viktor’s legs, and Viktor watches with blurry vision as Jayce wipes the back of his hand across his chin, licking his lips of Viktor’s pleasure before humming satisfied to himself.
“Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Jayce crawls over Viktor’s body on the table until they are face to face, and he wipes his thumb along the tear tracks on Viktor’s flushed cheeks.
Viktor has no fight left. His mind separated from his body the moment Jayce put his mouth on him.
Jayce gently grabs Viktor’s chin, directing his attention towards him.
“Answer me. Give me a color.”
Viktor sucks in a deep, broken breath. Resigned to his fate, he answers.
“Green.” He whispers into the miniscule space between their lips. He looks at Jayce, unable to drag his eyes away. It’s like watching an oncoming train as you’re tied to the tracks. He knows that this is it, his last shred of control, and Jayce is about to rip it from his body, sucking the soul out of him through his teeth like viscera.
When Viktor feels the head of Jayce’s cock press against his slit, he doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t cry, he doesn’t move a muscle. He simply watches as Jayce’s eyelids flutter, his mouth falling open as he presses into the tight heat of Viktor’s body.
Viktor watches, his wide eyes glued to the man above him, as Jayce releases a heaving breath. It fans across Viktor’s face, cooling the wetness on his face. When Jayce pulls himself out of Viktor, and presses in once more, Viktor doesn’t blink. He doesn’t tear his eyes away, too hypnotized by every little emotion crossing Jayce’s face as he begins thrusting into Viktor at a steady and brutal pace.
Jayce’s eyebrows furrow, sweat beads at his forehead, and his eyes glow a deep, burning hazel as he takes. He takes, he takes, and he takes. Jayce presses his forehead against Viktor’s as they make eye contact, Viktor feeling a curling heat inside of him as Jayce groans and bites down on his own bottom lip from the pulsing slickness of Viktor’s body.
Viktor feels a hand reach underneath his ass and lift his good leg into the air, his body pliant and like putty as Jayce raises it to his shoulder, curling Viktor’s body into a crude mating press. His cock slams within him hard, and deep. Viktor lets a shattered moan fall from his lips as Jayce fucks Viktor into mindlessness, the shame and guilt of feeling good far beyond the boundary of his worries.
For the first and only time since Jayce slid into him, Jayce whispers into the space between their lips.
“I’m going to fill you, breed you so deep that you’re going to remember me forever. Always a part of you, always with you. You’ll think about this night and remember the way I fucked you, raped you, loved you.”
His breath catches in his throat, Viktor still spellbound by the man moving above him.
“You’re mine, all mine, mine, mine, mine—”
Soon enough— or maybe too quickly, Viktor isn’t sure anymore— The pace at which Jayce fucks into him stutters, his muscles tighten and quiver where they are pressed against Viktor’s body, and he feels Jayce press his cock deep inside of him, filling him up with his seed. Viktor feels full, dirty, taken apart and put back together as a new person. Jayce sinks his canines into Viktor’s neck, letting his orgasm rush through him. Viktor can only sit as a passenger to the experience, blinking slowly at the pain erupting at the side of his throat and the all-consuming need to keep Jayce inside of him, forever, just like he said.
Viktor’s body feels like liquid, his nerves feel used, abused, raw. He can’t imagine that he has any more tears left to cry.
Jayce pants, coming down from his own high for a few moments before he pulls out of Viktor, presses a gentle kiss to his forehead, and then slides off of the table.
Viktor turns his head and watches, his eyes following mindlessly as Jayce walks to the kitchen and grabs a small towel, wetting it in the sink before making his way back over to Viktor and wiping down his body. He soothes the soft, chilled cloth along his arms, his chest, his stomach. He cleans the mess from between his legs.
Carefully, Jayce unties the rope from around Viktor’s waist, running the cool washcloth over where the rope had dug into his reddened skin, then releasing his wrists and repeating the same, gentle, caring treatment. Once Viktor is clean and free from the restraints, Jayce slides an arm underneath his knees and around his shoulders, picking him up carefully.
Viktor tucks his face into Jayce’s chest, feeling his heartbeat through his skin as Jayce carries them through the cabin and into a large bedroom.
Jayce lies Viktor down onto the bed, pulling the thick comforter over his body, and crawling in behind him. He doesn’t say a word, he simply wraps his arms around his body and holds Viktor as he feels the waves of unconsciousness lick at his mind, coaxing him into a safe, comfortable, dreamless sleep.
⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡
The early winter sun caresses Viktor's bruised cheekbones in streaks through the window. The sheer curtain flowing from the swirling warm air emanating from the heater doesn’t do much to block out the intense light.
Viktor blinks his eyes open, breathing in deep, expanding his lungs, pulling himself from unconsciousness. He turns his head, looking for Jayce, but the bed is empty.
When he sits up on the mattress, he smells something delicious coming from the kitchen. He looks around the room, spotting a glass of ice water on the side table with some pain medication that Jayce must have left out for him.
When he moves to take a sip, he flinches from the slight pain that shoots across his mouth. He raises a hand, feeling where Jayce had split his lip last night. There’s some sticky ointment on it that he assumes Jayce applied while Viktor was sleeping.
He carefully drinks the water and takes the medicine.
When he sets the water back down, he spots one of his canes leaned against the nightstand. He smiles softly to himself, thinking of how sweet it is that Jayce remembered to bring an extra one for him in case his main one got lost in the chaos of the scene last night— which it did.
Viktor sees clothing laid out for him at the end of the bed— a large, long sleeved shirt and boxer briefs— so he stands and dresses himself, looking over his skin at the bruises Jayce’s hands made along his legs and arms. They are deep, purple, blue and beautiful.
Viktor traces a fingertip up the inside of his thigh, along where a handprint is pressed into his muscle, and feels the ache of it as he gently presses his thumb down into the skin. He sighs, satisfied, then grabs his cane and makes his way out of the bedroom.
When he emerges from the bedroom, he instantly spots Jayce. He’s in the kitchen, grey sweatpants hung low on his hips, and no shirt.
He doesn’t seem to notice Viktor, so Viktor quietly makes his way over to Jayce. He leans his cane against the wall and wraps his arms around his torso from behind. Jayce flinches slightly, but chuckles softly when he feels Viktor nuzzle his nose into his spine.
Jayce turns the heat of whatever is cooking on the stove down, then turns around in Viktor’s arms. He wraps himself around the smaller body, hugging him tightly and pressing his lips to the crown of Viktor’s head.
“Good morning, sleepyhead.” Jayce whispers into his hair, his voice soothing and gentle.
Viktor pulls his face away from Jayce’s chest and looks up at the man. He sees Jayce’s eyes flick down to the cut on his lip, but his face doesn’t change its expression. He doesn’t suppose it would, Jayce has drawn blood from him more times than he can count by now and Viktor has asked for it each time. Jayce has always been happy to give Viktor what he needs, no matter how hard it must be for him to do so.
It’s become easier with time, though. Jayce and Viktor trust each other implicitly to never cross the boundary of hurting one another for just the sake of it.
“Thank you for last night, Jayce.” Viktor speaks up, finally breaking the seal of their encounter.
Jayce tilts his head, smiling and stitching his eyebrows together in easy humor.
“You never have to thank me for that, Viktor. It’s what you wanted. I was happy to do that for you.”
“Mmm, still. It went a lot better than I expected it to.”
Jayce chuckles, turning their bodies to sit on a pair of stools at the kitchen counter. He pulls one of Viktor’s feet into his lap, and massages his calves. They are aching from the intense trembling his body did last night in the constant rush of adrenaline, but Jayce’s fingers smooth away the pain as easily as they put it there.
“What went well? What could have been better, Viktor?”
Jayce and Viktor always have this talk after a particularly intense scene, so it’s unsurprising that Jayce would ask. Viktor looks out the window of the cabin behind Jayce’s head and thinks for a moment, piecing together everything from last night.
“Well, it was good that you didn’t tell me you were coming. It genuinely surprised me, and the fear I felt, that was real. Especially when you pulled out the knife. I knew deep down you wouldn’t really hurt me, but I was able to put myself into the headspace that you would, and it helped me really dig into the feeling of being afraid.”
Jayce nods his head, taking his own mental notes.
“I agree. I think you being truly terrified helped me stay in domspace. I knew that in order to get the most out of this for both of us, I needed to break you of that fear, that shock, and I feel like I was able to do that fairly well.”
Viktor laughs, his own smile pulling one onto Jayce’s lips. “Well, you certainly broke me, Jayce. I felt hypnotized by you. Like I wanted to melt into your skin, or let you eat me whole. I have never felt so close to you before.”
That nearly brings Jayce to tears from happiness, so he pulls himself off of the stool to stand in-between Viktor’s knees. He shakes his head, blinking away the building glaze in his eyes.
“I love you, Viktor. Forever and always. There is nothing that I would not do for you, you know that right?” Viktor nods his head, pulling Jayce’s hand into his own and kissing his knuckles, bruised from where they landed harshly against Viktor’s face last night.
“I love you too, Jayce.” He leans up into the kiss that Jayce offers him, humming into the soft press of his lips. “Now, what are you making for breakfast?”
Jayce turns back towards the kitchen and picks up where he left off, whipping them up a massive breakfast of pancakes, eggs, potatoes, and rice. Viktor is stuffed full by the time they go lay down for a nap together.
Before they can get comfortable, Jayce raises Viktor’s shirt up and checks the scrapes along his back, applying a soothing ointment to the ones that look the most angry. When they curl up into each other's arms, they don’t say anything else.
Jayce reaches over to the nightstand and opens the drawer. He silently hands Viktor a polaroid photo— the one Jayce took of him last night when they arrived at the cabin— and they look at it together. Viktor rubs his thumb along the length of his exposed legs in the photo, tracing his vision across the tear tracks running down his face. After a few minutes, he hands the photo back to Jayce.
Viktor watches as Jayce brings the polaroid up to his lips, kissing him through the image before placing it back into the drawer and wrapping himself around Viktor like he did last night.
They simply breathe in the warm air of the bedroom, letting their bodies recover and their minds settle with the knowledge of just how much they love one another.
Viktor falls asleep first, and Jayce follows soon after, his lips pressed to Viktor’s temple.