Fic: "Crash Against The Floor" Chaper 2

[apostrophee]

Title: "Crash Against The Floor" Chapter 2
Word Count: 2,255
Characters:  Ville and Bam mainly along with almost anyone associated with them.
Summary: He knew something was wrong---off about the three men in the bar.  He knew it, but instead of following his gut and leaving, he stayed to have just one more beer and with that final sip, Ville's life was changed forever.
Warning: Very, very, very dark themes.  Non-consenual, angst, drama and possible drug usage in future chapters(Fluff eventually).

Previous Chapters

( Chapter One )



Crash Against The Floor

Chapter Two

“What time is it?” He asked, his voice sounding strange, broken and distorted to his own ears. Sounds became muffled and he could hear a voice rasping next to him, but he couldn’t make out what the person was trying to say.

“Fweooa oklooh.…” The voice faded in and out like a dying symphony. Ville turned to see who it was, his vision blurring and eyes opening and closing sporadically. He didn’t like the feeling of disorientation coursing throughout his body. He had been drunk on more occasions than he could care to count, but never in all of his alcoholic stupors had he ever remembered feeling so unbalanced.

“I--I--I need to go. I have to go back before five or five and it’s six. I--I’m feeling terribly ill…” Ville muttered, tripping over his words as he attempted to slid off of the stool. He could feel his legs shaking as he stood and large arms engulfed him, pulling him close to a broad front that he knew was unfamiliar. He tried to push the hands off of his waist, but the grip was firm and he felt exhausted. He was tempted to lean back against the broad chest and fall asleep.

“Easy buddy…….we got you……we got you…….” Another voice faded in before dying out. Ville could smell the stench of cheep beer and cologne and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up with each breath that the person breathed down on him.

“No….no….I need to go back, I need to go back, I need to get there to check the sounds.” He mumbled. It was like he knew what he wanted to say inside of his head, but when it came to actually saying them, the words became convoluted.

“Okay, we’re going to leave.” Another voice stated and Ville could feel another arm come around his waist as his arms were hitched across two sets of broad and sturdy shoulders. He felt as if he wasn’t walking and that’s when he realized that he wasn’t and the tips of his black sneakers were scratching against the dirty wooden floors of the bar. He heard a female voice speaking, asking if he was alright and he heard one of the voices next to him say that they were going to take him home because he’d drunk too much.

“I only had two beers….” Ville muttered.

“He’s completely plastered! Tell Bill I’ll see him for the game on Sunday.” The male voice whispered again. Ville turned his head, seeing a shadow of light brown hair and deep brown eyes.

“Brian?” Ville whispered.

“Come on buddy, we’ll get you home.” Brian replied and Ville’s stomach began to twist. His chest tightened as the pull in his heart told him the break out of Brian’s grip and not go anywhere with him. But his mind was telling him one thing, but his body was doing another and he found it impossible to move.

He felt a cold blast of icy October air hit his face, making the corners of his mouth feel dry and tight. His sneakers were scraping against concrete and the sharp sound that it created irritated his ears and made his skin crawl. The muscles in his neck relaxed and he couldn’t control himself as his head fell and he was left looking down at the ground. He wasn’t in the main shopping district so instead of the ground being lined with red bricks, it was lined with once fresh white concrete, dirtied by years of wear and tear to a dingy shade of gray. As his eyes opened and closed, making him feel dizzy and nauseas at the same time, the last thing he remembered seeing was a black smudge on the ground. He laughed softly to himself because in that moment, that’s how he felt….like a black spot of confusion thrown against the unknown.

He didn’t remember how he wound up in a car, but he could hear a sports program tuning in from the radio as the sound of horns honking blared around him. His head was in lap and fingers were combing softly through his hair as the thick scent of something sweet that reminded him of Philadelphia enveloped him.

“Bam…” Ville whispered and closed his eyes into relaxation with the memory of how Bam’s fingers would feel running through his hair. Bam knew that Ville wanted more out of their relationship and the truth of the matter was so did he, but neither man knew how to take the next step. They were both in fear of hurting the two people closest to them. Bam didn’t want to hurt the cute, slender blonde--his girl of the week Missy and Ville had Jonna to think about. The lust had long left their relationship, but he loved her, truly with all of his heart he did, but Bam….Bam had his soul.

Everything was black. The kind of black that’s more of a hazy midnight blue and he could hear the motor on the car stop running. A moment later the hands that were so softly running through his hair stopped and his head was lifted as a car door opened. He felt two strong arms pulling him out of his seat, his tight black velvet pants sliding effortlessly across the leather.

“Okay, I’m going to go and talk to the clerk while you two sneak fancy boy up through the back stairs.” Brian stated to John and Richard.

“I don’t think we should do this. He seemed like a nice guy.” Richard replied, letting his grip around Ville tighten. Ville cuddled up against him, desperate for something sturdy to sleep on. His legs felt like jelly and his head felt just as loose.

“I am, I am. I need to go back, I need to go back.” Ville mumbled again, his speech drawing out worse than before. He wanted to panic, but he was tired….he was just so tired…..

“If you want to leave Rich, then go, but I’m doing this. John you in?”

“Of course I am, I’m always in!” John smiled as he smacked hands with Brian, a high-five in true ‘Soccer Brian’ fashion.

“We’re just gonna rob him….right?” Richard asked, his voice as unsteadied as the beats of his chest. He didn’t understand how he’d managed to get hooked up with Brian and John. They’d all been friends since high school and here it was ten years later, all of them damn near thirty and they were still running the same robbery scams they’d been doing since eleventh grade.

“What else would we do?” John laughed as he cocked his eyebrows up, making them dance like two thin, dark blonde caterpillars.

“What about that guy in Chicago? You guys…..you guys really hurt him…..you’re not going to do that to him, will ya?”

“That guy in Chicago was a faggot and he loved every minute of it!” Brian grunted, losing his patience with Richard’s procrastination.

“You and John hurt him! He didn’t do nothing and you still hurt him!!” Richard yelled, keeping his grip around Ville strongly. He looked down at the thin man in his arms. His face calm, beautiful even as he slept. His pale white skin, smooth and fresh as a bowl of cream was cool to touch. His delicate mouth, the color of strawberry jam curled up into a pleasant smile as the word ‘Bam’ slipped off his lips quietly every few moments as he’d snuggle in closer. He reminded Richard of a child, somehow innocent, but all knowing at the same time and feeling Ville’s thin, helpless body in his arms, he felt the need to protect him--guard over him.

“What the fuck do you care anyway? What, you some fucking faggot too? Want to have your boyfriend all to yourself?” John teased vehemently.

“I’m no faggot! You and Brian were the ones that--”

“--that what? WHAT? Go ahead and say it, I dare you!” Brian interjected as he got up in Richard’s face, challenging him with a menacing glare. Richard, fearing what Brian and John might do to him backed down.

“Nothing…..nothing. I can’t be here, I can’t be here.” Richard stated, tripping over his words as he dislodged Ville from his arms and pushed him off to John.

“You’re too fucking weak for this shit anyway. Walk home!” Brian replied before he walked into the hotel.

********************

A bed, finally Ville was able to relax and sleep. He felt crumbs in the sheets, scratching against his belly and wrists as he tried to turn onto his back, but couldn‘t. He heard a deep voice that he didn’t recognize ask him what his tattoo’s meant, but Ville couldn’t answer him……he could hear him and he could feel his shoes being taken off, but he couldn’t answer him….he couldn’t talk….he couldn’t move…….

*******************

His shirt was being pulled over his head and he felt hands….four cold hands touching on his body……touching slowly, touching forcibly, touching impertinently…….he didn’t like it…….he didn’t like them….cold probing fingers, cold probing fingers.…….everything was fading in from gray to white…….from yellow to black…..he couldn’t move…..he couldn’t move……

*********************

A kiss was planted on his neck like a cold dagger, pressing against his flesh, but not piercing….it was cold….so cold……hands were on his waist…….on his stomach……..touching again……touching again……burning……..he wanted to yell….he wanted to push them away……but…..he couldn’t move, he couldn’t move……he was so tired….so tired……..

*******************

He was hurting….hurting so bad that he felt as if his teeth were bleeding….but…..it was a nightmare, only a nightmare because he knew he was sleeping…..he knew it….his lips were being parted by something thick…….the taste of a foreign body part…..bitter…….acidic…..rude…..just having a nightmare…..a terrible nightmare………he wanted to wake up….but he couldn’t move….he couldn’t move…..

******************

His face was pressed down deep……..deep into the mattress…….dry…….dry ache…..it hurt….it hurt…..so bad…..it hurt….it was his first time…….his last time………he wanted to open his eyes…..he couldn’t……just a nightmare…..not real…..cold hands…….cold hands……cold hand……probing fingers…….cold hands…..

*********************

His head hurt so bad that he couldn’t open his eyes. It was an intense pain that blinded and made it hard to breath. He couldn’t move, not that he wanted to. He felt sore all over like someone had taken a bat to every inch of his body. With his eyes still closed, he stretched and a sharp pain to the back of his spine, shooting down his thin thighs burned and not understanding why, he opened his eyes with a start. He was greeted with the dim darkness of a room that was as dank and bleak as a cellar. It smelled of cum and piss and instead of making him smile with its familiarity, it made Ville’s stomach twist.

Panic set in with the knowledge that he was not in a place he could ever remember being in before. He turned on his side, the sharp pain in his back screaming. He groaned, white hot pain searing his eyes shut. He wasn’t dressed. He was naked as the day he was born and he could feel from the stretch in his backside that he had been violated. He’d never been touched there before and the first thing he wanted to do was throw up. He couldn’t move without the pain swirling through out his body so he leaned his head over the bed, letting the vomit wretch from his stomach, the bile burning his throat as he expelled his morning coffee and afternoon beers on the shaggy orange carpet. He threw up until all he was able to expel was the white foam of his saliva. His eyes began to tear as he realized that something very bad had happened to him.

“Oh God!” He moaned, his voice breaking, his body shaking as he felt alone. He sat up, groaning and feeling a single salted tear trail down his face as he brought his legs to the side of the bed. Standing up was the worst pain he’d ever felt in his life and he had to lean his hands on the raggedy wooden nightstand---a bible standing up and laughing at him, just so he wouldn’t fall. He was afraid of what could have happened, he was afraid at knowing what had happened. Slowly and fearfully he reached his slender, graceful fingers to his back side, touching carefully and feeling moisture as the tips of his digits, carefully dabbing.

Bringing his fingers to his face all he saw was red….bright red fluid that made him squeeze his eyes shut as he sighed helplessly. He wanted to yell, he wanted to scream, but he felt too broken to. All he could do was sigh as he pulled back the sheets exposing bright stains of crimson smeared across the dingy beige cotton fabric. An alarm clock just above an old television set flashed the time as being seven o’clock. He had to be on stage in three hours, but he didn’t care about that at the moment. All Ville wanted to do was crash against the floor and go back to sleep. He felt like he was in a nightmare, a terrible nightmare and if he went to sleep, when he’d wake back up he’d be in Pennsylvania, playing video games and eating cereal while making fun of something Bam had done. But when he realized that it wasn’t a dream, that something awful really did happen to him, he clutched his hands around his waist and threw up again………...

To Be Continued....

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