Sadistic Trio
Series: Sadistic Trio
Rating: SO NC-17
Warnings: Non-consensual sex
Jonothon sat up on his bed as someone entered the room, his ‘roomie’ at a guess. As tall and lanky as himself...possibly a bit taller, Jonothon admitted in the privacy of his own head, with blond hair gathered back into a ponytail and a thoughtful, wild look to his eyes. They gleamed like water running over yellow stones, somehow amber-green and impossibly wolfine. Jonothon stood as the other guy came into the cell completely.
“Kyle Gibney. Armed robbery. I just drove the get away car, but the other blokes got stuck with a manslaughter rap because they shot a teller and a few baaing sheep in the queues. You?”
Definitely Scottish. How...quaint.
“Jono Starsmore. I shot my father in the head,” he said, both hands meeting in a strong grip as Kyle chuckled softly.
“So, you’re *that* laddie buck. We read about that, here in the prison.” White teeth glinted in his mouth as Kyle smiled, predator to the bone. “Wouldn’t have minded to off my old man none either. Except he drank himself to death when I was twelve, so there ye are. I got cheated.” He put his hands palm down on the top bunk and heaved himself up into it with the ease of long practice, settling down and lying flat on his stomach while he looked at Jonothon with curious eyes. “So sit down and tell me about it. What gun’d ye use and all that stuff?”
“Just a Colt handgun...bit of a kick to it, nothing spectacular,” Jonothon said, amused as he listened to Kyle sigh like a man touched by a willing lover.
Holy fuck, I bet he’s getting hard over this. I mean, I’ve heard about guys who did...but I’ve never really met someone who could get off on listening to someone else talking about killing. Freak. But he seems nice enough, so as long as he doesn’t try to kill me...
Kyle chatted with Jonothon for a bit longer before the new guy got up off his bed and made noises about working out in the gym and then grabbing a shower before lights out. The Scot scratched the back of his head, wondering if he should warn the kid, and then decided not to. Angel and Spike were *mean* when they felt someone had ruined their fun. He wasn’t big enough and scary enough to step between them and their prey...his gang would leave him to the wolves if he did something that fucking stupid. He wasn’t a bitch and he wasn’t a boss, but at least he wasn’t paying for his continued safety with his ass. Safety in numbers. Jono would be alright...it could be worse. Spike’d probably get bored sooner or later with fucking him once the novelty wore off. But if he proved useful in other ways, Angel would keep protecting him and using Spike’s sheer insanity to do the same.
Now there was someone who should have gotten off on a mentally incapacitated plea.
Kyle shuddered slightly and lifted his hand in farewell as Jonothon walked out of the room. He sat up and got out of bed, pausing on the walkway and looking around. One of the new guys from the intake caught his eye, and Kyle glared back. Creed. Yeah. Now there was someone to be wary of as well. That was one of the ‘it could be worse’ scenarios. You *heard* things about Creed. What he did. Nothing travelled faster in the criminal system then gossip, and there was a lot about Creed in the professional circles floating around. Assassin. Rapist. Not particular about which one of those occurred first, or who exactly he did it too. There were even rumours about him eating his victims...drinking their blood. Horrifying whispers no one dared speak too loudly, in case Creed traced it back to them and they were the next ones to become a notch on his trophy list. He turned away and clattered downstairs, calling out a greeting to some of the men in his group, grinning at the sight of a game of cards in progress.
And resolutely shut his cellmate out of his head.
Spike ghosted along to the gym, glancing around and checking out who was in there besides Jonothon. Something vicious glittered in his blue eyes, then smoothed out into an expression of bland innocence as he turned around, and lifted an eyebrow at Doyle. Who, being the well-bribed guard that he was, nodded subtly. No cameras in the showers once Jonothon went in and the two older prisoners followed. Spike’s face split in a grin momentarily, and he went to go find Angel.
“He’s in the gym, working out,” Spike purred into his partner’s ear, resisting the urge to bite it. Later. He’d be able to bite Jonothon all along that oh so pale body, leaving markings of ownership behind like a beast. “Want to scoot along and lift a few weights, ducks?” Angel lowered the book of poetry he was reading, and a smile as cold as Spike’s shone back out of his face. No one commented about the fact that Angel read poetry and studied art books. If they knew what was good for them. The last con who had done so had been taken out in pieces, wrapped inside a body bag and they had had to ID the stupid bastard through fingerprints. That being about the only thing left recognisable.
“I think that might be a good idea.” Angel stood, sliding a bookmark in between the pages and placing it carefully on his bed. It would still be there when he got back. With precise movements, he obtained the small tube of lubricant that they had. No need to send the boy to hospital, after all. It just meant Spike would get bored while he was gone and out of action...and a bored Spike was the thing he was trying to prevent. Better to use the lube, and try to at least not hurt the kid too badly. Which he wouldn’t be, if he didn’t fight too hard. “Let’s go, Spike.”
“Fuck, *yeah*,” Spike hissed through his teeth, turning on his heel as they exited the cell they shared and headed slowly to the work out area. “I won the card game, remember.”
“I have a suspicion you cheated.”
“Nah, I don’t cheat at cards. Just remember the bargain, Angel. He’s mine first...and then you can fuck him completely senseless.” Spike grinned and fluttered his fingers at one of the other prisoners that they could usually count on to back them up in a fight, receiving a shallow nod and somewhat amused smile in return. Angel just shook his head slightly, well acquainted with the vagaries of his accomplice to act like a child with a new toy when in this sort of situation. He’d been the same way over that 17th century Italian dagger he’d bought from an antique shop...until he’d left the knife in question inside the stomach of a five year old boy. Because, as Spike explained to him later, the child had needed something so it didn’t squirm away while he cut its fingers off. He wondered absently how long it would take before Spike broke his new ‘toy’, and how long the teen would last. If he had anything else to use except a beautiful looking body, soulful eyes and a pouting mouth. Yeah, he was definitely a bitch. Would have been snapped up by someone else if Spike hadn’t squarely put a finger on him as *theirs*. No one was stupid enough to fool with that.
“Who is he rooming with, do you know?” Angel asked Spike absently as they made a pretence of working out while watching Jonothon covertly.
“The Gibney kid,” Spike said, mostly disinterested and faintly twitchy with excitement. He cast a look under his eyelashes at Jonothon, sweat staining the armpits of his uniform as he used one of the machines. Bit his thin lips slightly as a pink tongue licked sweat off Jonothon’s upper lip and glanced back at Angel, feeling the anticipation curl in his stomach and settle in his groin. “He won’t bother us. He’s not a lifer, he wants to get out on good behaviour when he can. His gang’s sided with us before as well.”
“No problems there then,” Angel mused, straightening as Jonothon let someone else onto the machine he was using and headed towards the showers. “And here we go.”
“Absofuckinglutely,” Spike agreed, and the two predators prowled after the unsuspecting teen. He was already stripped and under one of the showerheads when they entered, a glare from Spike and backed up by Angel’s faint smile sending the few other prisoners out. Dressing quickly and leaving the brown-haired boy there alone. Spike undressed slowly, as Angel closed the door and jammed the toe of his empty shoe under it. Keeping it closed. With two of them, they should be able to easily overpower the kid, but no sense in letting an escape route stand open or let someone muster their good Samaritan impulses for an instant.
Jonothon ducked his head under the spray, letting the water flow down his body and wash the smell of sweat off him, leach into his tired muscles and soothe the ache. That had been a good work out. So far, no one seemed willing to pick a fight with him, or really even talk to him that much. Suited him fine, he was a loner anyway. He ignored the sounds of the other men in the shower room with him, reaching out blindly for the soap as he closed his eyes against the hot water.
“Angel?” Spike murmured, glancing at his mate before they moved in from opposite directions to give the teenager nowhere to run. “Right, so it’s...Jono, innit?”
“Who wants to know?” Jonothon said, shaking his head like a wet dog and sending water droplets flying. He glanced at Spike from the corner of his eyes, seeing a lean man, older then him, with blue eyes, bleached blond hair and an unnerving smile. Hearing something a bit off in the other man’s voice and deciding uneasily to cut his shower short, he sluiced the soapsuds off his body and started to step back out of the recess. Spike pounced, stepping in behind him and grabbing one arm to twist it up behind his body, other grabbing his throat and squeezing lightly. Jonothon made an abortive move to jump forward, eyes widening at the unmistakable feel of the other man’s erection sliding between the two cheeks of his ass. “Fuck off!”
Spike laughed as the slender teenager went berserk in his arms, long legs flailing and free hand trying to scratch him or punch him, something to make him let go. He just held on tighter with the hand on the kid’s throat, knowing the black would be starting to crowd in soon and the weakness increasing. He kissed the side of Jonothon’s neck, licking a long stripe up to his earlobe and nipping. Not bothering to restrain the urge as he had with Angel.
Jonothon gargled, windpipe choked off by Spike’s grip, dark eyes rolling in his head like a frightened colt as he tried to break free. Even if he had to dislocate his arm, he wanted out of here and out into the public space. Even if he was starkers and dripping wet. The guards would be able to see, they’d have to stop this...holy fucking god, there were two of them. His eyes went almost impossibly wide as he saw Angel and his frenzied struggles gained a new pitch. Spike whooped with laughter and suddenly let go of Jonothon and pushed him at Angel, sending the teenager tripping and gagging for breath with a sore throat.
“Here, Angel, catch!”
Angel’s smile kicked up a notch, white teeth showing for a moment as he reached out to grab Jonothon’s arm. The British teen swung wildly, and his fist connected with the side of Angel’s jaw. Hard. Making the man’s head rock back for a moment and Jonothon made another bolt for the door, wet feet skidding on the tiled floor but was unable to break the implacable hold Angel had on his arm. Spike laughed, stepping out of the shower recess with water pearling down his body and white hair slicked back to his skull, as Angel casually backhanded Jonothon and sent him spinning to the floor. The Irishman worked his lower jaw for a moment cautiously, then laced his fingers through Jonothon’s hair and hauled him to his feet again. “That was a good punch, lad. And you’re very brave and all...” With watering eyes, Jonothon looked at Angel then hunched over with a miserable moan as the older man punched him in the stomach. “But don’t hit me again.”
Jonothon tried to bite him, teeth snapping shut bare millimetres from Angel’s stomach and hand punching at his balls. Angel leaned out of the way as Spike grabbed Jonothon’s arms and forced them behind his back, still laughing in a mildly disturbed fashion. The larger man sighed briefly, then hit Jonothon in the face again, turning his head to the side with the force of the open handed slap. Like he wasn’t worth the effort to close his hand into a fist. Jonothon spat at him.
“Sod off yer fucking berks! I’ll bloody kill yer!” Jonothon swore angrily, still trying to get away. Hurt them. Anything to stop this. He couldn’t quite deal with the reality of it. That two guys had expressly gotten him into this room and set things up so they could rape him. Men didn’t get raped. Except, obviously...they did. The terror made Jonothon want to throw up, adrenaline berserk in his veins and making him feel even sicker. He swore, fought and struggled every step of the way as they down near carried him to the slatted wooden benches that lined the middle of the room. He went even more frantic, wet slippery body twisting in their grip as he realised what they were going to do.
Lay him face down over the bench and fuck him.
He nearly managed to slip out of Spike’s grasp as they got near it, a lucky elbow landing in the other man’s stomach and making his grip loosen for a precious heart stopping moment. And then he went still as he felt a deadly press of cold metal to the side, just underneath his ribs where it would easily slide into his kidneys. The sound of his panicked breathing was loud, echoing off the tiled walls. The wet swipe of Spike’s tongue on his shoulderblade made him shudder, shaking all over like a nervous horse as the hand that wasn’t holding the knife slid down over the point of his hip to cup his cock. Jonothon lifted his head slightly to look at Angel, terrified out of his wits as Spike’s hand ran down the length of his limp penis to tug gently at his balls. The arousal in the other men was painfully obvious to him, Spike pressed hard against his back and Angel right in front of him.
“God, please don’t do this. Jesus, no, please...oh god, stop.” He felt like he could choke on the lump in his throat, eyes stinging with tears he refused to let fall as Spike continued to fondle him possessively. “Stop...just, stop, please. I won’t tell anyone, god, I swear. Just leave me alone. Don’t do this.” Plaintively begging, and he hated the sound of it in his own voice. Weak. So fucking weak, Starsmore!
“So pretty,” Spike sighed in his ear, dragging the knife up and across Jonothon’s body to rest it against his stomach. Jonothon flinched away, bringing him up closer against Spike’s erection and immediately flinching back again. The point of the shiv caused a droplet of blood to go down, red mingling in the water that still streaked his body. Angel’s eyes went even darker.
“We don’t have forever, Spike,” he reminded the blond, watching the way Jonothon bit at his lips in fright and shook in the muscled arms holding him tight. The glitter of the blade against his oh so vulnerable stomach and the doe-wet eyes staring at him fearfully, still begging for a reprieve even though there was no mercy to be found where he was looking, and he knew it. Gorgeous. So afraid and yes, pretty. Spike’d chosen well, after all. Angel wrapped his fingers around his aching cock and lazily pumped it a few times, not wanting to come yet but loving the way the horrified eyes followed his movement. So wide. Utterly vulnerable.
“Well, our little Jono’s going to be a very good boy now, isn’t he?” Spike purred, giving the shiv an extra little bite for emphasis. More blood washed over Jonothon’s stomach, and he could hear the pained whine in the back of the kid’s throat, even if didn’t make its way out past his teeth. “Otherwise we’re all going to find out what his insides look like through personal experience.” The knife drifted lower. “And then make him into an eunuch.”
“Jesus fuck!” Jonothon yelped, spreading his legs in self-defence as the cold metal stroked down the inside of his thigh and then lifted his dick for a moment. Before, thank God! Spike returned to drawing lazy circles over the soft skin of his stomach without drawing blood. “Why the hell are you doing this?!”
Why me? was the unspoken add on to the teen’s statement, chest heaving as he fought the urge to give into hyperventilation. They were actually going to go through with this, it wasn’t some sort of hazing, or anything like that. They were going to make him lie down on this bench in a prison shower room and rape him. Sure, he’d been *curious* about the act of gay sex, but this was not how he wanted to find out about it through personal experience.
“Because you’re pretty, I’m bored and Angel wants to stop me from making everyone riot again,” Spike said, a little sulkily. “It’s not like it wouldn’t have happened to you anyway. Look at you!” He placed a biting kiss on the pulsepoint on Jonothon’s neck, feeling the panicked heartbeat under his tongue. Salt tang of sweat. He was just about over with talking...and looking into Angel’s eyes, he could see the taller man was getting a little impatient. “Those eyes...that pouty little mouth...you’re as lovely as a girl and a nicer piece of arse then has walked in here for ages. At least it’s only the two of us, pet. Now.” Spike scraped the flat of the blade down the curve of Jonothon’s hip, hearing the panicked whine of breath that the younger man was now unable to suppress. At last, some noise! “You’re going to lie down on your back on the bench, while I fuck you. Like the good little bitch you should be.”
Jonothon made another attempt to run, yowling with pain as the shiv scored a white-hot streak of agony down his ribs and slippery with blood as he bolted for the door. Grabbing the handle and hearing Spike curse behind him, he pulled. The door didn’t open. He glanced down and saw the shoe, going to kick it out of the way before a hand grabbed the back of his skull and slammed his face into the door. Angel caught him as he dropped in a gangly heap of long limbs, looking into dazed brown eyes that weren’t quite registering as he dragged the teenager back to the bench and laid him down. A faint moan was the only sound Jonothon could let out, shaking his head weakly as an irate Spike put the knife down by the piles of clothes, Angel straddling the bench behind Jonothon’s head and pressing down on his shoulders to keep him still. He kicked at Spike weakly as the man approached, blood dripping down his side onto the floor. Hurt. Dizzy. Once again, he bit at Angel’s fingers as they stroked the side of his face, oddly gentle for all the violence that had gone before.
“Very, very bad, luv, that was awfully naughty of you,” Spike crooned, retrieving the tube of personal lubricant from the floor and opening it, squeezing some out onto his fingers. “Just lie back and relax, baby boy. It’ll hurt more if you don’t...and you might even like it.” He spread Jonothon’s legs wide, lying on one thigh with his elbow to make sure they stayed open and pressed a fingertip into the inviting little pucker. Jonothon whined, and tried to struggle away from the invading digit, held in place for everything that was to come by Angel’s superior strength.
“Ah, god no...unh...stop. No,” Jonothon begged, tears finally spilling through his fine lashes and streaking down his pale cheeks. Angel murmured something in Gaelic and leant down to lick them off, tasting the salt hot shame. Nothing beat a first time. Absolutely nothing. “J-jesus, pleaaaseeee, stop...”
“Oh, not likely to do that,” Spike said, watching the way his finger penetrated the teenager’s body so easily. Hot. Clinging tight and hot. He added another finger slowly, blue eyes nearly black with arousal as he imagined just what it was going to be like once he got his cock in there. Slowly stretching the reluctant ring of muscle open, feeling the boy try to force the invading digits out and failing miserably, Spike licked his lips as he found Jonothon’s prostate and rubbed it sharply with his fingertips.
The effect was somewhat electric.
“Guh-god!” Jonothon’s hips bucked up, mouth open for a moment in shocked pleasure, scarlet blush sweeping across his cheeks as he realised what he had done. Traitorous body. Feeling pleasure from *this*. But what the hell did that fucker *do*? The fuck? It was like fireworks went off inside his head, and he flushed even redder as he realised he was getting hard. Bleedin’ fucking bloody treacherous piece of shit! He shouted at his body inwardly.
Spike chuckled and did it again, watching the erotic arch as the kid’s hips went up, dazed brown eyes wide. “God, so bloody hot.” There was blood puddled under the bench, and he could have just purred. So spreading red on the white. Beautiful. Like some sort of poetry. First the fight, then the fuck. Pity there wasn’t someplace they could go out and have spicy buffalo wings at after, for the feed. Oh well, just have to settle for two of the three F’s. Removing his fingers and moving into position, Spike relished the look of momentary confusion on Jonothon’s face before slamming into him.
The traumatized scream that ripped from the kid’s throat was music to his ears. Sweet and almost femininely high, true agony ringing through it. He hadn’t taken that long with prepping him after all. Not really enough time for a virgin. And *God*, so tight and hot around his cock. Inner walls rippling around him as the body tried to expel the intruder adding just another layer of sensation. Just blissful. Spike’s fingers bit deep into the thin skin on Jonothon’s waist, slipping momentarily on the blood and water. Leaving bruises of perfectly oval fingerprints on the pale, pale skin.
He could feel his mouth go a shocked wide round shape, eyes almost impossibly wide and hurting, body trying to jerk back and away in self defence from the brutal thrusts. God, it *hurt*. Thrashing his head from side to side weakly in denial that this was happening to him while tears streaked down his cheeks, Jonothon whimpered and made small hurt noises. Almost animal, mewls, whines and whimpers intermixed with abject begging. Just to make the pain *stop*. Angel stroked his hair, tangling his fingers in the sweat drenched strands, watching Spike’s face as the other man ruthlessly fucked the lean youth.
”God, Angel...he’s so tight,” Spike hissed, leaning down and biting Jonothon just below the collarbone. The teenager mustered a vicious glare, for all that it was teary-eyed with pain, and Spike laughed, kissing the red-bitten lips hard. He jerked his head back as Jonothon tried to bite him, cupping his hand in a tight seal over nose and mouth. Jonothon made frantic noises from behind the hand as Spike slowed his thrusts, angling them so his shaft would drag over the hard little nub inside the unwilling body under him. “No biting, pet,” the blond tsked, shaking his head slightly and pinching the small nipples on the bloody chest into peaks as he felt Jonothon’s open mouth trying to breathe behind his hand. Wet and hot, tongue and teeth scraping against his palm as the brown eyes went wide again, tears still running down faintly flushed cheeks. “Ngh, yeah...so fucking good,” he moaned, moving his hips in small circles and keeping Jonothon’s airways blocked off as the eyelashes started to flutter, one of the first signs of serious oxygen deprivation.
“Spike,” Angel warned, and the blond shot him an unrepentant look before removing his hand. Jonothon sucked in a breath, feeling the blackness start to recede again as he filled his starved lungs with air. Jesus, they were going to kill him! Maybe even without meaning to.
“No biting,” Spike warned Jonothon again, and he nodded weakly in submission. Even if he still needed to breathe, he didn’t need Spike to decide he’d forfeit breathing forever rather then for just a brief period because he’d bitten again. The kiss was oddly gentle, faint rasp of stubble against his chin and an inquisitive tongue licking along his teeth. He made a faint sound of protest as Spike started to stroke his cock firmly, not wanting to enjoy any part of this at all. “Yeah, bitch, take it,” the older man moaned into Jonothon’s ear, picking up the pace now and jacking Jonothon off with the rhythm of his own thrusts. “We own your arse, boy...take care of you, and keep the other wolves away. But we *own* you,” Spike hissed, biting at Jonothon’s neck and staring into terrified and lust-filled eyes, “and don’t you, uh, ever forget it! God fuck yessss...” He covered Jonothon’s gasping mouth with his own, swallowing the guilt-stricken moans and feeling the teenager come over his hand as with a few more short, brutal jabs he climaxed himself. After a moment, he got up, leaving Jonothon lying on the bench with his legs sprawled wide and come and blood slicking down the inside of his thighs, burning with shame that he’d orgasmed during his rape.
Jonothon closed his eyes and swallowed back a sob, as useless as that was since he’d been bawling like a child from the time Spike had penetrated him, not wanting to look at Spike and see that gloating satisfaction. Angel moved from behind him, large hands stroking down his body calmingly as Spike smoothed his hair. Carrot and stick, Jonothon thought to himself almost hysterically. And felt himself starting to breathe slower anyway, not resisting as he felt Angel move between his spread legs and press the head of his cock to his abused anus.
“Slow this time, boyo,” Angel murmured, slowly easing himself inside and watching Jonothon bite his bottom lip, worrying it raw and bleeding as Spike ran his black-painted nails through the mahogany strands. “Jesus Christ, so tight...even after the fucking Spike gave you to bust your cherry.” Finally fully sheathed, Angel brushed a kiss across Jonothon’s lips before starting to slowly and methodically fuck him. Spike had drawn things out so much that he probably just had enough time to get off and wash everyone clean, and generally tidy up. Selfish prick. And seeing the satiated smirk on the blond’s cruel mouth, he knew he had done it on purpose as well. “You belong to us now, brat. Arse, mouth, hands, whatever we want, you do. If either of us gets an itch, you drop trou and bend over, or go down on your knees so we can do whatever we wants. Understand me?” Seeing the spark of rebellion in Jonothon’s eyes, even after what Spike had done, Angel pinched the teen’s nipple and twisted, glorying in the bark of surprised pain.
“Yeah, I getcha! Wotever either of yer wants, yer get,” Jonothon spat out grudgingly, eyes stinging again.
“Good bitch,” Angel said mockingly, and put his hands on the boy’s hips, tilting them slightly for a better angle and letting go of his control. Jonothon hissed air in through clenched teeth, throwing his head back for a moment and Spike slid his fingers over the raw looking lips.
“Suck.” Jonothon’s eyes snapped open at the soft-spoken command, and he briefly considered refusing, but opened his mouth grudgingly instead. Spike slid two fingers into the wet, warm space, stroking his thumb over the top bow of Jonothon’s lip and pressing down on the velvety tongue to make him swallow. Brown eyes glared hatred up at him, throat working convulsively for a moment as Spike shallowly fingerfucked his mouth and Angel fucked his ass with hard thrusts. “Hot, isn’t he?”
“Christ, yes,” Angel growled, accent thickening as he felt the warm tingles of an impending orgasm building. God, so good. Hot, tight and utterly unwilling, guilt-tainted tears streaked down an almost aristocratic face. Perfect. “Uh...fuck...” He scratched his nails roughly down the sides of Jonothon’s chest, coming in rough, jerky thrusts as the teenager almost choked on Spike’s fingers as he tried to cry out in pain. Angel eyed the deep scratches that were already starting to bleed, and Spike’s bitemarks with pleasure. Marked, fucked and owned. Theirs. No one would be stupid enough to try and take him away. And if they did...well, it wasn’t like his sentence was going to get any shorter. “Get him under a shower, Spike, and make sure he isn’t too torn,” he ordered as he stood and went to turn the water on.
Closed his eyes and tilted his head back as the water washed away the blood and come painting his cock and inner thighs. Felt the hot water cleanse him and ignored the faint sounds of Jonothon cursing them both as Spike shoved him under the shower and held him there for a rough scrubbing.
Probably the best bribe money he’d ever spent in this prison.
“Spike?” Angel asked, eyes still closed.
“Yeah, China?”
“He needs a tattoo. I’ll design one. You set up an appointment with Needles.”
“Yeah, ok.”
“The fuck?” Jonothon said as the two men calmly discussed how best to brand their property. He shuddered underneath the water, holding his arms tight about his chest. “I’m not getting a tattoo.”
“Uh...yeah, you are,” Spike told him, and dumped shampoo in his hair. “Now hold still, Brat.”
Jesus...that turned out to be a loooong chapter. Here's your rougher then rough sex, Inca. Holy god...I go die now and sleep. Yeah, sleep.
Rating: SO NC-17
Warnings: Non-consensual sex
Jonothon sat up on his bed as someone entered the room, his ‘roomie’ at a guess. As tall and lanky as himself...possibly a bit taller, Jonothon admitted in the privacy of his own head, with blond hair gathered back into a ponytail and a thoughtful, wild look to his eyes. They gleamed like water running over yellow stones, somehow amber-green and impossibly wolfine. Jonothon stood as the other guy came into the cell completely.
“Kyle Gibney. Armed robbery. I just drove the get away car, but the other blokes got stuck with a manslaughter rap because they shot a teller and a few baaing sheep in the queues. You?”
Definitely Scottish. How...quaint.
“Jono Starsmore. I shot my father in the head,” he said, both hands meeting in a strong grip as Kyle chuckled softly.
“So, you’re *that* laddie buck. We read about that, here in the prison.” White teeth glinted in his mouth as Kyle smiled, predator to the bone. “Wouldn’t have minded to off my old man none either. Except he drank himself to death when I was twelve, so there ye are. I got cheated.” He put his hands palm down on the top bunk and heaved himself up into it with the ease of long practice, settling down and lying flat on his stomach while he looked at Jonothon with curious eyes. “So sit down and tell me about it. What gun’d ye use and all that stuff?”
“Just a Colt handgun...bit of a kick to it, nothing spectacular,” Jonothon said, amused as he listened to Kyle sigh like a man touched by a willing lover.
Holy fuck, I bet he’s getting hard over this. I mean, I’ve heard about guys who did...but I’ve never really met someone who could get off on listening to someone else talking about killing. Freak. But he seems nice enough, so as long as he doesn’t try to kill me...
Kyle chatted with Jonothon for a bit longer before the new guy got up off his bed and made noises about working out in the gym and then grabbing a shower before lights out. The Scot scratched the back of his head, wondering if he should warn the kid, and then decided not to. Angel and Spike were *mean* when they felt someone had ruined their fun. He wasn’t big enough and scary enough to step between them and their prey...his gang would leave him to the wolves if he did something that fucking stupid. He wasn’t a bitch and he wasn’t a boss, but at least he wasn’t paying for his continued safety with his ass. Safety in numbers. Jono would be alright...it could be worse. Spike’d probably get bored sooner or later with fucking him once the novelty wore off. But if he proved useful in other ways, Angel would keep protecting him and using Spike’s sheer insanity to do the same.
Now there was someone who should have gotten off on a mentally incapacitated plea.
Kyle shuddered slightly and lifted his hand in farewell as Jonothon walked out of the room. He sat up and got out of bed, pausing on the walkway and looking around. One of the new guys from the intake caught his eye, and Kyle glared back. Creed. Yeah. Now there was someone to be wary of as well. That was one of the ‘it could be worse’ scenarios. You *heard* things about Creed. What he did. Nothing travelled faster in the criminal system then gossip, and there was a lot about Creed in the professional circles floating around. Assassin. Rapist. Not particular about which one of those occurred first, or who exactly he did it too. There were even rumours about him eating his victims...drinking their blood. Horrifying whispers no one dared speak too loudly, in case Creed traced it back to them and they were the next ones to become a notch on his trophy list. He turned away and clattered downstairs, calling out a greeting to some of the men in his group, grinning at the sight of a game of cards in progress.
And resolutely shut his cellmate out of his head.
Spike ghosted along to the gym, glancing around and checking out who was in there besides Jonothon. Something vicious glittered in his blue eyes, then smoothed out into an expression of bland innocence as he turned around, and lifted an eyebrow at Doyle. Who, being the well-bribed guard that he was, nodded subtly. No cameras in the showers once Jonothon went in and the two older prisoners followed. Spike’s face split in a grin momentarily, and he went to go find Angel.
“He’s in the gym, working out,” Spike purred into his partner’s ear, resisting the urge to bite it. Later. He’d be able to bite Jonothon all along that oh so pale body, leaving markings of ownership behind like a beast. “Want to scoot along and lift a few weights, ducks?” Angel lowered the book of poetry he was reading, and a smile as cold as Spike’s shone back out of his face. No one commented about the fact that Angel read poetry and studied art books. If they knew what was good for them. The last con who had done so had been taken out in pieces, wrapped inside a body bag and they had had to ID the stupid bastard through fingerprints. That being about the only thing left recognisable.
“I think that might be a good idea.” Angel stood, sliding a bookmark in between the pages and placing it carefully on his bed. It would still be there when he got back. With precise movements, he obtained the small tube of lubricant that they had. No need to send the boy to hospital, after all. It just meant Spike would get bored while he was gone and out of action...and a bored Spike was the thing he was trying to prevent. Better to use the lube, and try to at least not hurt the kid too badly. Which he wouldn’t be, if he didn’t fight too hard. “Let’s go, Spike.”
“Fuck, *yeah*,” Spike hissed through his teeth, turning on his heel as they exited the cell they shared and headed slowly to the work out area. “I won the card game, remember.”
“I have a suspicion you cheated.”
“Nah, I don’t cheat at cards. Just remember the bargain, Angel. He’s mine first...and then you can fuck him completely senseless.” Spike grinned and fluttered his fingers at one of the other prisoners that they could usually count on to back them up in a fight, receiving a shallow nod and somewhat amused smile in return. Angel just shook his head slightly, well acquainted with the vagaries of his accomplice to act like a child with a new toy when in this sort of situation. He’d been the same way over that 17th century Italian dagger he’d bought from an antique shop...until he’d left the knife in question inside the stomach of a five year old boy. Because, as Spike explained to him later, the child had needed something so it didn’t squirm away while he cut its fingers off. He wondered absently how long it would take before Spike broke his new ‘toy’, and how long the teen would last. If he had anything else to use except a beautiful looking body, soulful eyes and a pouting mouth. Yeah, he was definitely a bitch. Would have been snapped up by someone else if Spike hadn’t squarely put a finger on him as *theirs*. No one was stupid enough to fool with that.
“Who is he rooming with, do you know?” Angel asked Spike absently as they made a pretence of working out while watching Jonothon covertly.
“The Gibney kid,” Spike said, mostly disinterested and faintly twitchy with excitement. He cast a look under his eyelashes at Jonothon, sweat staining the armpits of his uniform as he used one of the machines. Bit his thin lips slightly as a pink tongue licked sweat off Jonothon’s upper lip and glanced back at Angel, feeling the anticipation curl in his stomach and settle in his groin. “He won’t bother us. He’s not a lifer, he wants to get out on good behaviour when he can. His gang’s sided with us before as well.”
“No problems there then,” Angel mused, straightening as Jonothon let someone else onto the machine he was using and headed towards the showers. “And here we go.”
“Absofuckinglutely,” Spike agreed, and the two predators prowled after the unsuspecting teen. He was already stripped and under one of the showerheads when they entered, a glare from Spike and backed up by Angel’s faint smile sending the few other prisoners out. Dressing quickly and leaving the brown-haired boy there alone. Spike undressed slowly, as Angel closed the door and jammed the toe of his empty shoe under it. Keeping it closed. With two of them, they should be able to easily overpower the kid, but no sense in letting an escape route stand open or let someone muster their good Samaritan impulses for an instant.
Jonothon ducked his head under the spray, letting the water flow down his body and wash the smell of sweat off him, leach into his tired muscles and soothe the ache. That had been a good work out. So far, no one seemed willing to pick a fight with him, or really even talk to him that much. Suited him fine, he was a loner anyway. He ignored the sounds of the other men in the shower room with him, reaching out blindly for the soap as he closed his eyes against the hot water.
“Angel?” Spike murmured, glancing at his mate before they moved in from opposite directions to give the teenager nowhere to run. “Right, so it’s...Jono, innit?”
“Who wants to know?” Jonothon said, shaking his head like a wet dog and sending water droplets flying. He glanced at Spike from the corner of his eyes, seeing a lean man, older then him, with blue eyes, bleached blond hair and an unnerving smile. Hearing something a bit off in the other man’s voice and deciding uneasily to cut his shower short, he sluiced the soapsuds off his body and started to step back out of the recess. Spike pounced, stepping in behind him and grabbing one arm to twist it up behind his body, other grabbing his throat and squeezing lightly. Jonothon made an abortive move to jump forward, eyes widening at the unmistakable feel of the other man’s erection sliding between the two cheeks of his ass. “Fuck off!”
Spike laughed as the slender teenager went berserk in his arms, long legs flailing and free hand trying to scratch him or punch him, something to make him let go. He just held on tighter with the hand on the kid’s throat, knowing the black would be starting to crowd in soon and the weakness increasing. He kissed the side of Jonothon’s neck, licking a long stripe up to his earlobe and nipping. Not bothering to restrain the urge as he had with Angel.
Jonothon gargled, windpipe choked off by Spike’s grip, dark eyes rolling in his head like a frightened colt as he tried to break free. Even if he had to dislocate his arm, he wanted out of here and out into the public space. Even if he was starkers and dripping wet. The guards would be able to see, they’d have to stop this...holy fucking god, there were two of them. His eyes went almost impossibly wide as he saw Angel and his frenzied struggles gained a new pitch. Spike whooped with laughter and suddenly let go of Jonothon and pushed him at Angel, sending the teenager tripping and gagging for breath with a sore throat.
“Here, Angel, catch!”
Angel’s smile kicked up a notch, white teeth showing for a moment as he reached out to grab Jonothon’s arm. The British teen swung wildly, and his fist connected with the side of Angel’s jaw. Hard. Making the man’s head rock back for a moment and Jonothon made another bolt for the door, wet feet skidding on the tiled floor but was unable to break the implacable hold Angel had on his arm. Spike laughed, stepping out of the shower recess with water pearling down his body and white hair slicked back to his skull, as Angel casually backhanded Jonothon and sent him spinning to the floor. The Irishman worked his lower jaw for a moment cautiously, then laced his fingers through Jonothon’s hair and hauled him to his feet again. “That was a good punch, lad. And you’re very brave and all...” With watering eyes, Jonothon looked at Angel then hunched over with a miserable moan as the older man punched him in the stomach. “But don’t hit me again.”
Jonothon tried to bite him, teeth snapping shut bare millimetres from Angel’s stomach and hand punching at his balls. Angel leaned out of the way as Spike grabbed Jonothon’s arms and forced them behind his back, still laughing in a mildly disturbed fashion. The larger man sighed briefly, then hit Jonothon in the face again, turning his head to the side with the force of the open handed slap. Like he wasn’t worth the effort to close his hand into a fist. Jonothon spat at him.
“Sod off yer fucking berks! I’ll bloody kill yer!” Jonothon swore angrily, still trying to get away. Hurt them. Anything to stop this. He couldn’t quite deal with the reality of it. That two guys had expressly gotten him into this room and set things up so they could rape him. Men didn’t get raped. Except, obviously...they did. The terror made Jonothon want to throw up, adrenaline berserk in his veins and making him feel even sicker. He swore, fought and struggled every step of the way as they down near carried him to the slatted wooden benches that lined the middle of the room. He went even more frantic, wet slippery body twisting in their grip as he realised what they were going to do.
Lay him face down over the bench and fuck him.
He nearly managed to slip out of Spike’s grasp as they got near it, a lucky elbow landing in the other man’s stomach and making his grip loosen for a precious heart stopping moment. And then he went still as he felt a deadly press of cold metal to the side, just underneath his ribs where it would easily slide into his kidneys. The sound of his panicked breathing was loud, echoing off the tiled walls. The wet swipe of Spike’s tongue on his shoulderblade made him shudder, shaking all over like a nervous horse as the hand that wasn’t holding the knife slid down over the point of his hip to cup his cock. Jonothon lifted his head slightly to look at Angel, terrified out of his wits as Spike’s hand ran down the length of his limp penis to tug gently at his balls. The arousal in the other men was painfully obvious to him, Spike pressed hard against his back and Angel right in front of him.
“God, please don’t do this. Jesus, no, please...oh god, stop.” He felt like he could choke on the lump in his throat, eyes stinging with tears he refused to let fall as Spike continued to fondle him possessively. “Stop...just, stop, please. I won’t tell anyone, god, I swear. Just leave me alone. Don’t do this.” Plaintively begging, and he hated the sound of it in his own voice. Weak. So fucking weak, Starsmore!
“So pretty,” Spike sighed in his ear, dragging the knife up and across Jonothon’s body to rest it against his stomach. Jonothon flinched away, bringing him up closer against Spike’s erection and immediately flinching back again. The point of the shiv caused a droplet of blood to go down, red mingling in the water that still streaked his body. Angel’s eyes went even darker.
“We don’t have forever, Spike,” he reminded the blond, watching the way Jonothon bit at his lips in fright and shook in the muscled arms holding him tight. The glitter of the blade against his oh so vulnerable stomach and the doe-wet eyes staring at him fearfully, still begging for a reprieve even though there was no mercy to be found where he was looking, and he knew it. Gorgeous. So afraid and yes, pretty. Spike’d chosen well, after all. Angel wrapped his fingers around his aching cock and lazily pumped it a few times, not wanting to come yet but loving the way the horrified eyes followed his movement. So wide. Utterly vulnerable.
“Well, our little Jono’s going to be a very good boy now, isn’t he?” Spike purred, giving the shiv an extra little bite for emphasis. More blood washed over Jonothon’s stomach, and he could hear the pained whine in the back of the kid’s throat, even if didn’t make its way out past his teeth. “Otherwise we’re all going to find out what his insides look like through personal experience.” The knife drifted lower. “And then make him into an eunuch.”
“Jesus fuck!” Jonothon yelped, spreading his legs in self-defence as the cold metal stroked down the inside of his thigh and then lifted his dick for a moment. Before, thank God! Spike returned to drawing lazy circles over the soft skin of his stomach without drawing blood. “Why the hell are you doing this?!”
Why me? was the unspoken add on to the teen’s statement, chest heaving as he fought the urge to give into hyperventilation. They were actually going to go through with this, it wasn’t some sort of hazing, or anything like that. They were going to make him lie down on this bench in a prison shower room and rape him. Sure, he’d been *curious* about the act of gay sex, but this was not how he wanted to find out about it through personal experience.
“Because you’re pretty, I’m bored and Angel wants to stop me from making everyone riot again,” Spike said, a little sulkily. “It’s not like it wouldn’t have happened to you anyway. Look at you!” He placed a biting kiss on the pulsepoint on Jonothon’s neck, feeling the panicked heartbeat under his tongue. Salt tang of sweat. He was just about over with talking...and looking into Angel’s eyes, he could see the taller man was getting a little impatient. “Those eyes...that pouty little mouth...you’re as lovely as a girl and a nicer piece of arse then has walked in here for ages. At least it’s only the two of us, pet. Now.” Spike scraped the flat of the blade down the curve of Jonothon’s hip, hearing the panicked whine of breath that the younger man was now unable to suppress. At last, some noise! “You’re going to lie down on your back on the bench, while I fuck you. Like the good little bitch you should be.”
Jonothon made another attempt to run, yowling with pain as the shiv scored a white-hot streak of agony down his ribs and slippery with blood as he bolted for the door. Grabbing the handle and hearing Spike curse behind him, he pulled. The door didn’t open. He glanced down and saw the shoe, going to kick it out of the way before a hand grabbed the back of his skull and slammed his face into the door. Angel caught him as he dropped in a gangly heap of long limbs, looking into dazed brown eyes that weren’t quite registering as he dragged the teenager back to the bench and laid him down. A faint moan was the only sound Jonothon could let out, shaking his head weakly as an irate Spike put the knife down by the piles of clothes, Angel straddling the bench behind Jonothon’s head and pressing down on his shoulders to keep him still. He kicked at Spike weakly as the man approached, blood dripping down his side onto the floor. Hurt. Dizzy. Once again, he bit at Angel’s fingers as they stroked the side of his face, oddly gentle for all the violence that had gone before.
“Very, very bad, luv, that was awfully naughty of you,” Spike crooned, retrieving the tube of personal lubricant from the floor and opening it, squeezing some out onto his fingers. “Just lie back and relax, baby boy. It’ll hurt more if you don’t...and you might even like it.” He spread Jonothon’s legs wide, lying on one thigh with his elbow to make sure they stayed open and pressed a fingertip into the inviting little pucker. Jonothon whined, and tried to struggle away from the invading digit, held in place for everything that was to come by Angel’s superior strength.
“Ah, god no...unh...stop. No,” Jonothon begged, tears finally spilling through his fine lashes and streaking down his pale cheeks. Angel murmured something in Gaelic and leant down to lick them off, tasting the salt hot shame. Nothing beat a first time. Absolutely nothing. “J-jesus, pleaaaseeee, stop...”
“Oh, not likely to do that,” Spike said, watching the way his finger penetrated the teenager’s body so easily. Hot. Clinging tight and hot. He added another finger slowly, blue eyes nearly black with arousal as he imagined just what it was going to be like once he got his cock in there. Slowly stretching the reluctant ring of muscle open, feeling the boy try to force the invading digits out and failing miserably, Spike licked his lips as he found Jonothon’s prostate and rubbed it sharply with his fingertips.
The effect was somewhat electric.
“Guh-god!” Jonothon’s hips bucked up, mouth open for a moment in shocked pleasure, scarlet blush sweeping across his cheeks as he realised what he had done. Traitorous body. Feeling pleasure from *this*. But what the hell did that fucker *do*? The fuck? It was like fireworks went off inside his head, and he flushed even redder as he realised he was getting hard. Bleedin’ fucking bloody treacherous piece of shit! He shouted at his body inwardly.
Spike chuckled and did it again, watching the erotic arch as the kid’s hips went up, dazed brown eyes wide. “God, so bloody hot.” There was blood puddled under the bench, and he could have just purred. So spreading red on the white. Beautiful. Like some sort of poetry. First the fight, then the fuck. Pity there wasn’t someplace they could go out and have spicy buffalo wings at after, for the feed. Oh well, just have to settle for two of the three F’s. Removing his fingers and moving into position, Spike relished the look of momentary confusion on Jonothon’s face before slamming into him.
The traumatized scream that ripped from the kid’s throat was music to his ears. Sweet and almost femininely high, true agony ringing through it. He hadn’t taken that long with prepping him after all. Not really enough time for a virgin. And *God*, so tight and hot around his cock. Inner walls rippling around him as the body tried to expel the intruder adding just another layer of sensation. Just blissful. Spike’s fingers bit deep into the thin skin on Jonothon’s waist, slipping momentarily on the blood and water. Leaving bruises of perfectly oval fingerprints on the pale, pale skin.
He could feel his mouth go a shocked wide round shape, eyes almost impossibly wide and hurting, body trying to jerk back and away in self defence from the brutal thrusts. God, it *hurt*. Thrashing his head from side to side weakly in denial that this was happening to him while tears streaked down his cheeks, Jonothon whimpered and made small hurt noises. Almost animal, mewls, whines and whimpers intermixed with abject begging. Just to make the pain *stop*. Angel stroked his hair, tangling his fingers in the sweat drenched strands, watching Spike’s face as the other man ruthlessly fucked the lean youth.
”God, Angel...he’s so tight,” Spike hissed, leaning down and biting Jonothon just below the collarbone. The teenager mustered a vicious glare, for all that it was teary-eyed with pain, and Spike laughed, kissing the red-bitten lips hard. He jerked his head back as Jonothon tried to bite him, cupping his hand in a tight seal over nose and mouth. Jonothon made frantic noises from behind the hand as Spike slowed his thrusts, angling them so his shaft would drag over the hard little nub inside the unwilling body under him. “No biting, pet,” the blond tsked, shaking his head slightly and pinching the small nipples on the bloody chest into peaks as he felt Jonothon’s open mouth trying to breathe behind his hand. Wet and hot, tongue and teeth scraping against his palm as the brown eyes went wide again, tears still running down faintly flushed cheeks. “Ngh, yeah...so fucking good,” he moaned, moving his hips in small circles and keeping Jonothon’s airways blocked off as the eyelashes started to flutter, one of the first signs of serious oxygen deprivation.
“Spike,” Angel warned, and the blond shot him an unrepentant look before removing his hand. Jonothon sucked in a breath, feeling the blackness start to recede again as he filled his starved lungs with air. Jesus, they were going to kill him! Maybe even without meaning to.
“No biting,” Spike warned Jonothon again, and he nodded weakly in submission. Even if he still needed to breathe, he didn’t need Spike to decide he’d forfeit breathing forever rather then for just a brief period because he’d bitten again. The kiss was oddly gentle, faint rasp of stubble against his chin and an inquisitive tongue licking along his teeth. He made a faint sound of protest as Spike started to stroke his cock firmly, not wanting to enjoy any part of this at all. “Yeah, bitch, take it,” the older man moaned into Jonothon’s ear, picking up the pace now and jacking Jonothon off with the rhythm of his own thrusts. “We own your arse, boy...take care of you, and keep the other wolves away. But we *own* you,” Spike hissed, biting at Jonothon’s neck and staring into terrified and lust-filled eyes, “and don’t you, uh, ever forget it! God fuck yessss...” He covered Jonothon’s gasping mouth with his own, swallowing the guilt-stricken moans and feeling the teenager come over his hand as with a few more short, brutal jabs he climaxed himself. After a moment, he got up, leaving Jonothon lying on the bench with his legs sprawled wide and come and blood slicking down the inside of his thighs, burning with shame that he’d orgasmed during his rape.
Jonothon closed his eyes and swallowed back a sob, as useless as that was since he’d been bawling like a child from the time Spike had penetrated him, not wanting to look at Spike and see that gloating satisfaction. Angel moved from behind him, large hands stroking down his body calmingly as Spike smoothed his hair. Carrot and stick, Jonothon thought to himself almost hysterically. And felt himself starting to breathe slower anyway, not resisting as he felt Angel move between his spread legs and press the head of his cock to his abused anus.
“Slow this time, boyo,” Angel murmured, slowly easing himself inside and watching Jonothon bite his bottom lip, worrying it raw and bleeding as Spike ran his black-painted nails through the mahogany strands. “Jesus Christ, so tight...even after the fucking Spike gave you to bust your cherry.” Finally fully sheathed, Angel brushed a kiss across Jonothon’s lips before starting to slowly and methodically fuck him. Spike had drawn things out so much that he probably just had enough time to get off and wash everyone clean, and generally tidy up. Selfish prick. And seeing the satiated smirk on the blond’s cruel mouth, he knew he had done it on purpose as well. “You belong to us now, brat. Arse, mouth, hands, whatever we want, you do. If either of us gets an itch, you drop trou and bend over, or go down on your knees so we can do whatever we wants. Understand me?” Seeing the spark of rebellion in Jonothon’s eyes, even after what Spike had done, Angel pinched the teen’s nipple and twisted, glorying in the bark of surprised pain.
“Yeah, I getcha! Wotever either of yer wants, yer get,” Jonothon spat out grudgingly, eyes stinging again.
“Good bitch,” Angel said mockingly, and put his hands on the boy’s hips, tilting them slightly for a better angle and letting go of his control. Jonothon hissed air in through clenched teeth, throwing his head back for a moment and Spike slid his fingers over the raw looking lips.
“Suck.” Jonothon’s eyes snapped open at the soft-spoken command, and he briefly considered refusing, but opened his mouth grudgingly instead. Spike slid two fingers into the wet, warm space, stroking his thumb over the top bow of Jonothon’s lip and pressing down on the velvety tongue to make him swallow. Brown eyes glared hatred up at him, throat working convulsively for a moment as Spike shallowly fingerfucked his mouth and Angel fucked his ass with hard thrusts. “Hot, isn’t he?”
“Christ, yes,” Angel growled, accent thickening as he felt the warm tingles of an impending orgasm building. God, so good. Hot, tight and utterly unwilling, guilt-tainted tears streaked down an almost aristocratic face. Perfect. “Uh...fuck...” He scratched his nails roughly down the sides of Jonothon’s chest, coming in rough, jerky thrusts as the teenager almost choked on Spike’s fingers as he tried to cry out in pain. Angel eyed the deep scratches that were already starting to bleed, and Spike’s bitemarks with pleasure. Marked, fucked and owned. Theirs. No one would be stupid enough to try and take him away. And if they did...well, it wasn’t like his sentence was going to get any shorter. “Get him under a shower, Spike, and make sure he isn’t too torn,” he ordered as he stood and went to turn the water on.
Closed his eyes and tilted his head back as the water washed away the blood and come painting his cock and inner thighs. Felt the hot water cleanse him and ignored the faint sounds of Jonothon cursing them both as Spike shoved him under the shower and held him there for a rough scrubbing.
Probably the best bribe money he’d ever spent in this prison.
“Spike?” Angel asked, eyes still closed.
“Yeah, China?”
“He needs a tattoo. I’ll design one. You set up an appointment with Needles.”
“Yeah, ok.”
“The fuck?” Jonothon said as the two men calmly discussed how best to brand their property. He shuddered underneath the water, holding his arms tight about his chest. “I’m not getting a tattoo.”
“Uh...yeah, you are,” Spike told him, and dumped shampoo in his hair. “Now hold still, Brat.”
Jesus...that turned out to be a loooong chapter. Here's your rougher then rough sex, Inca. Holy god...I go die now and sleep. Yeah, sleep.