FIC: Secure in Someone Else's Bonds Part 5 (FINAL PART)

[3988akasha]

Title: Secure in Someone Else's Bonds

Author:  3988akasha

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Main Character Death, Rape, Child Abuse Non-Con Incest, Self-Mutilation, Graphic Violence... accompanying prison themes. BDSM.

Disclaimer: I don't own them; it never happened.

Summary: A very damaged Chris Pine ends up in prison. His cellmate, for good or evil, is Zach. Zach pretty much runs the whole damn place, and Chris presents him with a fascinating challenge. The warnings ensue, in no particular order.

Beta:   bones_2_be   <------- (shh, it's all her fault!!) AND I love her for it, but really this fic would not exist without her being all like yeah you should write this...and then she fixed it so it looks pretty and reads like a story. Yep.

Author's Note: The whole story is written, but will be posted in 5 parts.

Part 5

“I told him to keep a better eye on his pets.”

Chris froze; the blood in his veins replaced with ice. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Zach would save him. Zach had to save him.

A cruel hand fisted Chris’ hair in his hand and yanked.

“I told you he wouldn’t be able to keep you safe forever.”

Heedless of the hand griping his hair, Chris shook his head violently. It had to be a dream, another one of his nightmares. Zach would keep him safe forever. Zach promised forever. Zach wouldn’t break his promise. Any minute now, he would appear, chase away the conjuring of his imagination. Then, he’d hold Chris close and whisper meaningless words into his ear. Yes.

Harsh reality interrupted his imagined hope. The hand griping his hair flung him into the tiled wall. Before he could move to his feet, arms yanked him by the boxers. He heard the material of his boxers begin to tear as the material was stripped away from him. His knees burned from where they were rubbed along the ground. The air was pushed from his lungs as a foot to his back forced him face first into the ground, his bare ass up in the air. He didn’t have much time to analyze his half-nude state.

“Such a perky little ass.”

On his hands and knees, Chris did his best to crab away from the hands grabbing at him. Something was delaying Zach. He needed to buy time until Zach could come and rescue him. He wasn’t helpless, not yet. He would fight until Zach arrived. A cold hand gripped his ankle, the fingers pushed bruises into his skin. Desperately, Chris dug his fingers into the ground, attempting to find purchase on something, anything, to keep him from being dragged back to danger. The hand not holding his ankle came down hard on his ass. Chris bit back a yelp as tears burned his eyes.

Scrambling for better footing, Chris fought make himself balanced. Behind him, he could hear laughter and it burnt a dark path to his soul. Anger built within him, replacing the terror and humiliation. He no longer needed to accept what happened to him passively. If this was a dream, he could control it. With renewed fight, Chris twisted his torso, brining his fist around, clipping the side of Eric’s face. The momentum of his arc landed him on his back. Panting, he blinked at the person wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. This wasn’t right. It was never Eric in his dreams. Eric’s face was set in grim smile as he prowled closer. Chris scrambled back.

“Glad to see Zach hasn’t broken all the fight out of ya. Makes it more fun when they squirm.”

Caged like a rabbit, Chris’ eyes darted around the room. He was trapped. Zach wasn’t coming. The inevitability of his situation allowed him a detached sense of serenity. Instead of overwhelming terror, he felt separated from it all. What happened next was simply an existential exercise. He didn’t struggle. Fighting would make it much, much worse. He’d landed one hit; it was enough.

Eric pulled Chris’ arms behind his back and bound them with something, Chris wasn’t sure what it was and didn’t care enough to think it through too much. Strong arms banded around his chest, pulled him flush against a strong body. Teeth bit into the flesh of his shoulder, a chunk of skin, muscle, tendon could have gone with the teeth…it no longer mattered to Chris. He heard his cries of pain as an echo in a vacuum. Eric’s hand connected with the side of his face.

“Don’t do that, Chris. I want you with me during this. You’re going to enjoy it.”

Chris blinked a couple of times, parts of his surroundings came into focus. The coarse material of Eric’s jumpsuit ground mercilessly against his bare ass. Thick, warm liquid ran slowly down his neck. Instinctually, he moved his hand to wipe it away, but when his arms wouldn’t follow his mind’s command he remembered - his arms were bound behind his back. He felt Eric’s tongue lap at his neck.

“Mmmm,” Eric hummed into his ear.

Shoved to his knees, Chris’ teeth knocked together at the abrupt impact. As if it were the only sound in the room, Chris heard Eric slide the material of his jumpsuit down his legs. A semi-erect penis dominated his line of sight. Of course, he knew how this would go. This time, there was no way for him to do it right. No matter what he did, it wouldn’t be enough for the man looming over him. Chris shuddered as Eric forced his dick into his mouth. Choking on it, Chris thought about clamping his jaw down, but found he couldn’t. Eric thrust his hips, forcing his dick further down Chris’ throat, it was all he could do to focus on breathing through his nose. The hand at the back of his head guided his actions. Over and over again he felt Eric’s dick move punishingly in and out of his throat.

When the dick was pulled from his mouth, Chris gulped in deep, gasping breaths as his eyes watered and his vision swam. His gasps turned to coughs that burned his raw throat. He found himself unable to go back to that blissful state of existential experience. Eric bent down, grabbed Chris’ chin and forced him to look up at him. Chris could read the hatred, the victory in Eric’s eyes. He watched Eric’s lips descend to his own. He felt teeth dig into his lips, tasted his blood drip into his mouth.

Hand clamped firmly around Chris’ neck, Eric hauled him to his feet.

Chris staggered, nearly falling. With his hand still around Chris’ neck, Eric forced his tongue deep into Chris’ mouth. Eric’s grip was firm and soon Chris was slammed face first against the wall. Chris felt Eric align his body against his, felt his hot breath, heavy along his neck. Without any warning, Eric pushed his dick into Chris’ ass. Ass dry and unprepared, Chris cried out against the invasion. It burned painfully and he felt as though his ass was being torn in two. Behind him Eric grunted as he continued to pound mercilessly into Chris. His arms hurt, locked as they were behind his back, each time Eric thrust forward it jerked his arms sharply, pain shooting down from his shoulders. In front of him, his dick slammed painfully into the wall in front of him. His face rubbed against the wall until the friction tore the skin away. Blood began to drip from the abrasions on his cheeks, joining the blood from his neck and mouth.

Helpless, Chris tried to get his mind to focus on something else. He couldn’t. Each time he felt Eric’s dick slam into his body, he cursed himself for not being strong enough. Somehow he knew that if he’d been stronger, if he’d been able to hold out against Eric for a little bit longer that Zach would have shown up and saved him. He’d failed; this was his punishment. The rough movements caused the binding to bite painfully into his wrists. Soon, he could feel blood soaking into the material holding him captive.

Erick yanked Chris’ hair, exposing the column of his neck. Chris felt his teeth sink into the skin once more. He felt a hand land hard on his ass, making his entire body jerk away in pain. This motion simply caused other parts of his body to cry out in agony. Soon, every hit, every thrust, every bite melded into an endless procession of pain - each action indiscernible from the next. He simply floated in a sea of endless pain. Instead of being able to detach from the pain, each white-hot punishment he felt drew him closer to the reality of what was happening.

Eventually, he felt Eric pull from his body. He shuddered at the void, body slumping against the wall. Free of Eric’s grip, he fell heavily to the ground, his legs unable to support his weight. Blearily he looked up. Eric towered above him. He gripped his swollen dick in his hand and pumped it steadily. Chris watched as Eric’s back bowed, heard the guttural sound he made and felt Eric’s come splatter on his face.

Chris turned his face away when Eric crouched down next to him. Pain laced through his body and he curled further into himself protectively. Another hit to his kidney caused Chris to cry out in pain.

“Don’t ever turn your back on me,” Eric growled into Chris’ ear.

Unable to respond, Chris lay there, motionless. Distantly he heard Eric stand to his feet. He felt Eric’s foot drive into his lower back, the force knocking the air from him.

“I said not to turn your back on me.”

Dazed, Chris rolled onto his other side, a difficult task with his hands bound behind him, but the motion eventually worked, allowing him to face Eric. The maniacal grin on his face made Chris regret his decision, but the pain infusing his body dictated his actions. He’d do anything to avoid another hit.

“Quinto trained you well. You follow direction nicely.”

Eric bend over, spit on Chris’ face and left. Alone, free from any immediate hits, Chris allowed his eyes to roll closed.

~          ~          ~          ~          ~

In his ears, a hollow emptiness rang as his feet marked his path. To his right and left, people fell away into the distance; they were unimportant. Before him, Eric waited. Nothing else existed as he closed the distance between them. His mind remained free of the clamor; his vision clear. He found a freedom in the distinct lack of feeling. Karl held the little worm, ensuring he couldn’t wiggle away. For a long moment, Zach simply stared at the bald man.

He placed his left hand on Eric’s face; he curled his right around the back of his head. With a swift turn, Zach broke Eric’s neck. Returning his hands to his side, he watched as the head slumped forward, lifeless. Zach tilted his head to the side, a curious expression on his face. He thought he should feel something.

“It’s over, Quinto.”

Zach nodded to Karl. It was over, for everyone.

~          ~          ~          ~          ~

“You’ve got a visitor, Quinto,” Bruce said as he slid open the door.

Zach looked up from his book. His eyes flitted between Bruce and the person standing next to Bruce. He blinked. They were both still there. But, it was impossible. He lowered his head again and waved his hand dismissively.

“No visitors, Bruce.”

Feet shuffled closer as others shuffled out the door. With a sigh, Zach closed his book.

“You still don’t obey very well.”

“Some kids just never learn, Zach.”

Zach smirked. Kid still had spunk. Good.

“Why are you here, Chris?”

“You know why I’m here.”

“There’s no need for this. You’re free. The judge let you get out of this - ” Zach gestured to the space around him, “zoo early. It’s beyond foolish to come back inside this place.”

“It’s amazing what happens when you come in through the front door.”

“Your disobedience is contagious.”

“Really?”

“I told Bruce I didn’t want any visitors.”

“Specifically me.”

Zach quirked a brow, unsurprised Chris knew this. It made sense. Who else would he care about enough to not want to see? Who else would he go through the effort of not requesting? Only Christopher Pine. Always Christopher Pine. Inside this room, he held no power. Inside this room, he was reminded of his failure. His lack of control led him to this place. He didn’t regret his actions; he’d kept a promise. The manner in which he kept his promise, well, that could have been done with a bit more…finesse.

“You’re going to ignore me?” Chris asked.

“You look good.”

It was Chris’ turn to smirk. Zach liked seeing him smile. Although he saw the shadows lurking in the blue eyes, he did look better. The last time he’d seen Chris…didn’t matter. He was better now.

“I don’t want you there, Chris.”

“You’re not in a position to make orders like that, Zach.”

Zach looked up, met Chris’ unwavering gaze. Damn, he’d missed those eyes. He memorized them once more; those eyes would be his dying image. He wouldn’t tolerate the pain he knew would be there soon enough to be his last vision on Earth, so he’d save the memory as they were now, alight with mischief.

“I’ll make it my dying wish.”

“I won’t make that promise, Zach.”

“You won’t?”

“You can beat me within an inch of my life and fuck me until I can’t sit for the rest of my life - none of that will keep me from being there. It’s my choice. My last - ”

“Is that why you came? To tell me the details of your final act of defiance?”

Chris laughed. The sound tickled Zach’s senses, filled his heart with warmth. He’d been too long without that sound. Like a starving man, his soul devoured it, tucked it away to recall later. When his desperation was at its worst. He should be happy to see Chris. To have this final opportunity to observe him, to hear the sound of his voice, to touch him, but the closest he could get was melancholy.

“I was told you came to visit me while I was unconscious.”

Zach didn’t respond.

“I wouldn’t have wanted you there, but you were there anyway.”

“This isn’t a role-reversal, Christopher.”

“No, Mr. Quinto, it’s not.”

Chris paced back and forth. Zach watched as Chris tousled his hair in agitation.

He’d used the appellation, damn him. He hadn’t heard Chris address him like that in months. Had it really been months? Zach ran a hand down his face. Knowing about all the time he’d spent with Chris - all the time he wouldn’t spend with Chris. It broke his resolve a little. Made him want things he had no right to want. It made him consider regretting his actions.

“Stop pacing, Chris.”

Chris stopped, and turned to face him. He looked so hurt. He’d caused that look. Chris was hurting and it wasn’t just because he was going down the final path.

“I’m happy you’re here,” Zach said.

“Liar.”

Zach smirked. “I’m glad to see you.”

Chris moved closer to Zach.

“Really?” Chris asked, voice unsure.

“Yeah,” Zach admitted as he pulled Chris into his arms.

He felt Chris melt into him and memorized the way it felt; he knew this was the last time he’d be able to feel the warmth of the boy in his arms. He wrapped his arms tighter around Chris, feeling him return the embrace. They both knew these were their final moments together. Zach was on borrowed time. He felt warm lips press against his neck; he felt warm tears stain his shirt. Chris began to shake slightly, emotions getting the best of him. Zach moved his hand up to cradle the back of Chris’ head. He wanted to make the tears stop, he wanted to take the pain away, but he knew he couldn’t. Helplessness unlike anything he’d ever experienced enveloped him. Under its weight he felt crushed. Right now, he was already dead. Tomorrow was simply a formality.

He felt Chris shift again. He saw the boy blink back tears. It was one thing to cry into his shoulder, it was another to look him in the eye and cry; Zach understood this. He had another twenty hours to bask in his misery. Once Chris left, he would have nothing but time. Time to be alone with his thoughts. Time to categorize and replay his memories. The moments he’d shared with Chris from the first glimpse of his too blue eyes, to their final good-bye. Those were his. No one, not even God himself could take those away from him. They’d be his forever. In that way, he’d always have a part of Chris all to himself. A piece no one else could ever have.

~          ~          ~          ~          ~

Chris stood up in the observation room. He wanted to pace. It disgusted him that they called it an observation room, as if what was going on below was simply another daily activity for the masses. If people wanted a room for observing things that went on in this place, they should set one up in the cafeteria; let the people witness feeding time at the zoo. Not that Chris had another name for the glass-enclosed space above the murdering room. He was sure it had a different name as well, something classy and politically correct. Fuck that. They were killing people in that room and even if they deserved it, no amount of flowery names would change it. The whole place felt sterile; of course, he knew the room below had been scrubbed to within an inch of its life. Down below, they could only murder healthy people in clean rooms.

Deep down, Chris knew his thoughts were borderline insane. He’d thought as much about his inner monologues since he’d first stepped foot into the zoo nearly two years ago. The truth of it was he only cared because they were killing Zach. Because of him. Fuck.

Agitated, he moved to a seat close to the glass. It was sick, but he needed to be as close as possible. It would be easier to pretend there wasn’t a thick sheet of glass separating him from Zach. It would be easier to believe he was down there in the room next to him. He fingered the bruise on his neck, his eyes closed at the memory of Zach’s lips and teeth marking him, claiming him, owning him for the last time. He shuddered.

Chris’ eyes snapped open when he heard the door squeak on its hinges. He didn’t look up to the peanut gallery as he was led into the room. Chris didn’t expect him to; he understood. It broke him inside to be denied that once last scorching gaze, but he’d said his goodbyes. He’d been given more time than either of them deserved, but he’d beg for more if he thought it would do any good. It wouldn’t.

Dying was such a production. There were always so many people flitting around, even in a place like this - especially in a place like this. There were the guards, there were the doctors, there was the priest. Then there were the spectators. He should have listened to Zach’s request. He should have taken his goodbye and been content. Too late now. Now, he was stuck here in this little fishbowl to witness Zach’s final moments. The company line said he wouldn’t feel any pain…said he’d simply fall asleep. The company didn’t know Zach. The company didn’t know how Zach would torture himself. How he’d internalize the passivity of his death to the point of madness. Chris understood Zach’s helplessness and felt shame for adding to it.

The priest nodded to the doctor, indicating that Zach’s soul was at peace. Chris laughed darkly. As if the priest knew anything about Zach’s soul. Occasionally, people saw what they wanted to see, but most of the time, people saw only what they were told to see. And the people in the room with Zach saw only Zachary Quinto three strike criminal. They didn’t see the motivation behind his actions. They didn’t understand his sense of honor, his personal code of conduct. Would they ever know how much he struggled to maintain control? Would they know he was Chris’ salvation? Did they realize exactly what they were about to do? Chris doubted it. After all, Chris was the criminal son of a family not meant to have social deviants.

He stopped breathing. Everything happened so slowly. In pantomime, the doctor moved to stand next to Zach. With a preciseness that inexplicably bothered Chris, the doctor turned a couple of knobs and checked the plastic tubes connecting Zach to Death. Liquid hung in bags next to the hospital bed they had Zach strapped into, and after Zach nodded to the doctor, the liquid began to drain from the bags into Zach’s body. Everything turned to silence. Seconds ticked into eternity. With macabre fascination, Chris watched the liquid poison travel from the bags into Zach’s veins. Just when he thought it was over, Zach looked at him. Suddenly the world moved normally again. The fluorescent lights overhead were too bright, the low buzz unreasonably loud. And Zach looked at him.

His eyes looked right into Chris before they closed for the final time. They asked Chris not to grieve, and somewhere deep inside Chris promise to try. In spite of his promise, he knew he’d bleed. Standing there, watching the life drain from Zach’s body, Chris heard the windless room call out his name. He knew then that he’d never fully heal. Nothing would replace the emptiness he’d feel. Pain would come eventually; the blessed numbness would recede. A few people would tell him what to do, how to get through the bleak chasm spanning the distance between him and his own final path. But, even those few didn’t know; they wouldn’t have a clue. Because no one else could come close to him.

~          ~          ~          ~          ~

“Chris!” Bruce called.

Chris stopped, turned around. He wanted to be away from here, but Bruce deserved better from him. For Zach, he waited patiently until the guard reached him.

“I know you wanna be as far away from here as possible, but I had to get this to ya. Zach wanted you to have it, but not until…”

Chris nodded. He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Thanks, Bruce.”

“Take care of yourself, kid.”

“Sure thing, Bruce.”

His hands shook as he held the piece of paper between his fingers. Something was wrapped in it.

“Are you ready, Mr. Pine?”

Chris looked up from the paper in his hands. He shoved the package into his pocket and forced a smile. It’d taken him a while to get used to anyone addressing him like that. Somehow, it felt wrong. He’d finally quit turning his head, looking for someone else.

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

“Very good, sir.”

Chris shook his head as his driver opened the door to the limousine. He’d never get used to this. It’d been like this since he’d gotten out a month earlier. A man in a three-piece suit had met him at the gate and informed him that he’d inherited his father’s estate. He’d been so distracted with Zach’s journey down the final path, that he hadn’t paid much attention to what it meant for him to inherit the estate. Perhaps foolishly, he’d left it in the hands of the estate manager.

The paper felt heavy in his pocket. He could almost hear Zach telling him to look at it. Reminding Chris that he wasn’t a patient man. Chris smiled at the memory. He hoped he’d be able to hold on to such thoughts, such memories. Above all, he feared losing the memories he had of Zach.

Chris pulled the paper from his pocket. He was alone now. No one would see him cry.

Chris,

It’s the last one. I figured you’d need it for those nights when the shadows play on the walls. There is more I should tell you, but you learned to call me Zach; that should tell you everything.

~Zachary

Tears fell freely down his face. It made no difference to him. He’d wipe some away and more would take their place. The object was wrapped in a piece of newspaper. Chris raised an eyebrow at the strange wrapping. Carefully, he peeled the paper away from the object which landed, momentarily forgotten in his lap. It was a clipping from the newspaper. The man’s face stared out at him, even frozen in a photograph he could feel the look; it made Chris shiver. He thought it was odd for Zach to give him an article about the man. It was no accident either; Zachary Quinto did nothing by accident. He read the article and felt his stomach drop like that feeling when you’re in an elevator and it goes down faster than expected. The solicitor had told him the man and his wife had died of “natural causes”; given their lifestyle, Chris had accepted it without a second thought. The article in his hand said the same thing, detailed how the new heir would not be able to continue the line of State Supreme Court Justices due to his armed robbery conviction. It was nothing he didn’t know, but Zach had given him the article. It had been wrapped around the last glow stick. Chris smiled and shook his head. Even in death, Zach was taking care of him, eliminating his demons.
“Natural causes my ass,” Chris said aloud. “Fucking bastard.”

~FIN~

Previous