Black Valentine 3/? (Jensen/Jared, NC-17)
Title: Black Valentine 3/?
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Jensen/Jared
Summary: Jensen had a mission to complete on board the most expensive and elite cruiser in the Orion Belt. Unfortunately it was a one-time, couples-only vacation and his partner had just cried off. The runaway twink he met in the spaceport looked like he had potential though.
Warnings: dub-con, au, kidnapping, non consensual drug use, fake relationship, BDSM, bad BDSM etiquette, collar, age gap, graphic violence and abuse, slavery, piercings, this au does not relate gender to clothing
AN: I started this for Big Bang but it is a monster and I didn't feel I could do the story credit by the deadline, then froze in the headlights because I wasn't sure I should be writing at all with another wip on my hands. Then I decided to ask what other people thought, got over myself and decided to do it as wip anyway. Thank you so much for the LJ support, especially fufaraw who has helped to improve this. The story is a mash-up of so many of my favourite kinks and cliches, so it will be posted semi regularly but it is absolutely for me to have fun with then share. I'm not going to pressure myself with difficult targets and deadlines.
Disclaimer: It's not real. This is an au Jared and Jensen who play in my head and mean no harm or disrespect to the Jared and Jensen in the real world.
***
Back to part two
This was bad, thought Jared. Worse than the time he and Chad blew up the chem lab while trying to make fireworks, worse than finding out what G-forces can do to your body (especially your stomach contents) as you break atmosphere, and possibly worse than a lifetime chained to a hick planet as fourth spouse to Tahmoh-boring-Penikett. His bare toes scraped along the cold floor of a drab cell as he was pushed inside, because of course they took his shoes when he refused to sign their stupid-ass contract. At least there was a room here; for a moment he had thought he was toast. ‘Security guards’ the size of rhinos, with raptor teeth and horn noses had ensured that their little trip to a quiet space to ‘think about his options’ had led out beside a waste disposal airlock where Jared had panicked, struggled, been back handed with a slap which crumpled him to the floor, and then been dragged to this cold, functional cell with bars and a locked door. He sat on its smooth metal bench, sighed and picked up the plastic style flexi-contract which had been thrown in with him. Who even used flexi text any more when everyone had retinal-signature holograph?
Food, travel, laundry, a place to sleep - the costs were as vast as the universe he wanted to explore. He and Chad had been over their heads in debt from the moment they stepped onto the shuttle to the Brief Encounter. There was even a medical charge for the sick bag he’d used on the short transfer. The management had made them a compelling offer - work off their debt or be discarded as excess baggage. Jared was good at math, best in his class, but he didn’t need to be a genius to see that there was no way to ever pay their debt as the cost of their board kept on accumulating. He was an idiot, Chad was an idiot. They had been warned about these cruisers, by teachers and parents alike. Still they had followed Chastity into the belly of the beast. Sure, he had looked forward to losing his virginity before he was married but he had pictured a romantic tryst against the backdrop of a billion stars, not whoring his ass to whoever paid a fee.
His feet were icy cold and his hands shook so hard that the text blurred. Chad had signed his contract with false bravado, “C’mon travel and sexy times. The ladies are going to love me,” he’d boasted, but his face had drained of all color and there had been no laughter in his eyes.
Jared chewed his lip. His life was over if he signed the contract.
In the corridor beyond his cell somebody screamed and begged. Through bars he could see the hazy reflection of a red warning light, blinking, blinking and a siren wailed over the shuch-tchunk of an airlock opening and the tchunk-shch of it closing again. The screaming stopped abruptly and the siren fell silent. Jared tried to blink back tears but his eyes filled and spilled wet down his cheeks. His life was over if he didn’t sign. He stood on jelly-legs and walked to the bars. “I need a stylus,” he yelled, since the corridor seemed empty.
Somebody replied anyway, “Stand back!”
Of course they wouldn’t want him trying to rush the guards, he thought. He wouldn’t achieve much but he imagined some had tried before him. He stepped back while he was musing on the idea and was not in the slightest bit prepared for the sight of the door blowing out of its tracks and landing silently on the floor beside him. His ears popped and he shook his head, he snapped his fingers and heard nothing. He was suddenly, mysteriously, deaf, which is why he was even less prepared for a person, wearing some sort of pilot’s cap, to dash in, grab him by his elbow and drag him out towards the airlock.
Jared panicked. “No, no, no,” I asked for a stylus, “I’m going to sign your stupid contract,” his voice sounded strange, he couldn’t tell if he was shouting.
The reply was muffled, but it seemed to be, “Come on!” and his elbow was tugged harder. They were still heading for the airlock, so he repeated himself, “I’m going to sign your contract,” he definitely shouted this time.
The airlock loomed close, Jared panicked a little more, twisted out of the man’s grip and aimed a punch at the nose that was just visible under the pilot’s cap. HIs fist never reached its destination. He didn’t have time to register the uppercut to his own chin but the bloom of pain was very real and then, well, nothing.
***
Jared’s chin hurt and his head ached when he tried to open his eyes. He was sure he was paralyzed; he couldn’t move his arms or legs however much he tried, yet he wiggled his fingers. and they obeyed - strange. He groaned, oh god, he felt sick, he needed to move now.
His memory returned in fragments. Was this what dying in space felt like? He always imagined it would be colder. Maybe he was already dead, in which case death sucked.
Fingers stroked his hair while an arm snaked around his back to push him up into a sitting position and then something cold and wet was pressed against his lips. Maybe he was alive. He recalled his predicament on the Brief Encounter and no, no, no, he didn’t want his first time like this .
“C’mon buddy, you need some water. Don’t want you to get dehydrated.”
Oh. It was a bottle. He tried a sip. It was clean and cool and undoubtedly water. He knew it could be drugged but he was suddenly very thirsty and it tasted good.
“There you go! Better?”
He was for a moment. Then he wasn’t - his stomach rebelled and he managed to open his eyes just as his vomit projected across a luxurious silky blanket and onto the…oh... onto the crashpod-dude from the port terminal. Jared closed his eyes again. Dying was weird.
“Ugh! Really? Hang on a minute.” The strong arm supporting him was removed and Jared swayed as he tried to keep his head up. He tried to put his hands down to steady himself but they wouldn’t move. Cold metal bit into his wrists and he was beginning to make sense of it all - he was tied up, cuffed to be precise and his chin hurt because somebody, possibly crashpod-dude had punched him. This must be the sort of kinky shit the Brief Encounter would force him to participate in. He didn’t think he could take it. It was just his luck that the hot guy was actually a nasty pervert and that was the end of any sexy daydreams he might have had.
Crashpod-dude pulled the silky cover from him, balled it up and stuffed it into some sort of trash compactor or laundry chute. He returned with a damp cloth, “Here,” he said, as he gently wiped Jared’s face. It was humiliating.
Jared roused himself, “No! I don’t want to. No! I’d rather die. Throw me out of the airlock.”
Crashpod-dude reached out and cradled Jared’s sore chin with his hand, tilted it so that Jared was looking directly at him. His face was clean, his eyes just as green as Jared remembered and he had a smattering of freckles on his face. He looked slightly sad and sincere. “I don’t want to have sex with you, Jared. My name is Jensen and this is a rescue.”
Jared sank back on to surprisingly soft pillows. Of course Tahmoh wouldn’t want the embarrassment of his fiance running away with a brothel but how did he know? Had he tailed Jared? That seemed a little creepy, and then there was the matter of… his cuffed arms ached, “Hey, you punched me. I’m tied up. I bet Mr. Penikett didn’t authorize that!”
“Mr. Penikett didn’t authorize anything. I punched you because you were drawing attention and I restrained you so you couldn’t hurt yourself or do anything that would compromise our safety.”
Jared took a moment to gather his thoughts, then gathered his bitchiest look, “You blew up a door! How was that not going to draw attention?”
“Did you hear the door blowing off?” Jensen asked him.
Actually, he hadn’t, “No,” he answered, “But I couldn’t hear anything. How can I hear again now?”
“Precisely,” Jensen nodded, “There are gadgets to silence an explosion, and other ways to silence a Jared.”
“So, will you untie me now? Thank you, by the way? How did you know, only I thought I’d seen you before and… oh, but what about Chad?”
“Ssh! No, and for god’s sake shut up.” The pad of a finger shushed Jared’s lip.
He took a breath, he had been babbling, “Sorry,” he whispered.
Jensen shushed him again, and waved his hand in a ‘stay’ motion. He got up, graceful and quiet and pressed some sort of remote control, “Going black,” he whispered, like it made some sort of sense. The lights went dim and the drive engine stuttered and stalled into silence.
Jared opened his mouth to speak, he had so many questions. Jensen launched himself over Jared and stuffed a rag in his mouth. Jared tried to struggle and Jensen whispered again, his mouth breathing hotly against his ear, “Do you want to be caught aboard a stolen ship? The owner won’t be asking how you got here.”
Jared’s eyes widened. No, he didn’t. He knew what happened to pirates and thieves in space and he rather liked his two hands and two feet, thank you. Of course there were more questions now racing though his head, and his heart was beating fit to burst his chest, but he could be quiet; he could be a mouse in the circumstances, whatever they were. He winced and just avoided a squeak when he felt a pinprick in his thigh.
***
“You can’t just drug him like that,” the voice in Jensen’s head nagged.
“Watch me! He’s a liability.”
“You need to build trust, Jensen, being a Master is a privilege. It takes negotiation and understanding. You will have to listen to him, talk things out. You were the one who chose him for his temperament.”
“Or I can throw him in a collar and chains and he’ll do what he’s told.”
“You know how I feel about that and I am in your head. I can make you regret it.”
“I hate you!”
“So, you’ll try it my way first,” Kane sounded relieved.
“I’ll try it your way and when the Tsar has all of us under his iron fist I shall remind you that I told you so.”
“Just try. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll be with you all the way.”
Jensen scowled.
“I can feel your bitch face,” reminded Kane, “All clear by the way. And you are one hundred and twenty six standard minutes from rendezvous with the Black Valentine. I’ll join you then. Right now, I am going for a nap. Good luck.”
“Later!”
Jensen looked down at Jared who snored gently on a giant fluffy bed. He was curled in a fetal position and his hair flopped around his face. He looked like an exhausted puppy. Jensen smoothed his hair behind his ear, it was silky soft and he wondered why that detail seemed important to him. He removed Jared's restraints and carefully placed him in the recovery position. A fresh, soft cover completed the task. The kid should at least be comfortable when he woke. He locked the room on his way out. He had an unfamiliar ship to pilot.
***
Part 4
Comments are candy for my soul and fuel for my muse.