Sapientia Et Veritas, Et Non

[lolitics_meme]

"Today is born the seventh one
Born of woman the seventh son
And he in turn of a seventh son
He has the power to heal
He has the gift of the second sight
He is the chosen one
So it shall be written
So it shall be done"

You might've guessed it: We are on the 7th prompt post. Hurray!
And although seven is "the most magical number there is", the rules for

Comments

1a/ Trigger Warning, Check Prompt

[anonymous]

Slowly, Ed raised his face, not yet polished by the political spotlight but still pale and confused by his new situation. After a few weeks working officially for Gordon, he had been starting to think that he could safely and happily live out the rest of his career in that little bubble of economics and bitterness. Why should he concern himself with the Blairites, those self-satisfied wankers, anyway? Just because they had it all, they thought they had it all.

Now three of them were gathered around him, watching with interest as he crawled to his feet, spat blood and staggered towards the door. Mouth still smarting horribly from the punch that had floored him, Ed stared in shock at the three men, unable to work out which of them had actually thrown it. He couldn't get away quick enough.

"Aw, where did you think you were going, love?" And before Ed knew it Alastair had him by the collar and Peter was too close, plucking his glasses off his face and fixing a blindfold around his head.

Ed snarled and tried to bat Peter away, swinging a punch that failed to land as the brunette stepped smartly to one side. "What do you think you're doing?" Ed yelled as his arms were yanked back and the blindfold covered his wild blue eyes. Panic started to set in. "Let me go! Let me fucking go!"

Suddenly a cold hand found his face and a familiar, loathed voice made him squirm even more against Alastair's grip. "Feel free to struggle," Tony smiled, "it'll make this so much more worthwhile."

"What's going on?" Ed tried to tug his arms free but found himself powerless. "Wh-what are you sick bastards doing with me?"

"We're putting you in your proper place." There was that way Tony had of saying things like they were obvious while giving the impression he'd said them dozens of times before. A kind of 'I'm a pro' tone. "Why? Aren't you enjoying it?" His hand went to Ed's sweat-slicked forehead, testing the tightness of his blindfold with a finger. "You know..." Tony prompted, over his victim's sullen silence, "won't it be fun to be made a wanton little whore for each of us in turn?"

For a long time, Ed didn't speak but breathed heavily. "What?" he demanded. His voice fell flat.

"You're going to get fucked," growled Alastair in his ear, as if further clarification was needed. "As many times as we like. Which will be a lot of times." His voice alone gave a good enough mental image of the delight in his eyes - and the hardness growing against Ed's back said even more.

Stunned absolutely speechless for once, Ed felt a pair of quick hands take off his tie and start work on his buttons. "Stop it!" he managed, sheer terror busting through his stutter. "L-let me go, you're hurting me!"

A slap to his cheek silenced him for a moment; then he started screeching again, kicking furiously against the fingers opening his belt and exposing his crotch, caressing it greedily. Through the fear and disbelief, Ed could feel blood start to flow to his cock when a skillful digit swiped over the tip, then again, and again. At last his arms were released to get his shirt and jacket off; seizing his chance, Ed flung himself forward, tugging off the blindfold and flattening Peter headlong.

At once, the other two pulled him up and flung him to the floor, sprawled on his back. "Cheeky little cunt..."

"Wh-why me?" spat Ed, watching Peter pin down one of his arms and feeling Alastair secure the other. "You got to play this sick game, then why me?"

"It's not just you," Peter drawled, with a smirk that unfolded gleefully on his thin lips, lighting up the eyes that trailed down Ed's naked, rounded chest and to his open trousers. "Do we seem like we're new to this, Balls? Or can I call you Ed?"

Grinning appreciatively, Tony started tugging off Ed's trousers. Though the younger man kicked and writhed, he was eventually completely stripped, panting and vulnerable on the floor, under their critical gazes.

"You see," Peter went on, reaching behind him for something unseen, "we need to be sure, at all times, that nobody - especially nobody at the treasury - starts thinking too highly of himself. The problem with Gordon's lot is that you just can't see what's staring you in the face..."