[[AU]] Homophobia

[downwithmyship]

Jack stayed the night in the Lounge for Hunter's sake. He's been waiting for his giant to show up. The shine hasn't worn off the thrill of letting the young man fuck him. It's early yet, though Jack is impatient. Still, it surprises him when there's a knock at the door. Hunter is certainly chivalrous enough to knock when he knows damn well he's

Comments

[shooting_blind]

Instead of the tall heroic redhead stands a much shorter dark haired beauty. Saturday's black eyes travel from Jack's face all the way down and back up again- taking his time. His face never changes. He wears a small pleasant smile and is carrying a plastic bag. It's not empty.
"Hi, neighbor. I ummm... came bearing gifts."
He leans his shoulder and head against the doorjam. Saturday looks adorable, but he's just keeping Jack from shutting the door. As much fun as it would be to break down the door it's also loud. And apparently Jack has company coming. This might not be the best time.

"I was having this real bad day when we met. You know. One of those nexus days."
He talks like he has all he time in the world. Sat holds up the bag with one hand and twisting it closed with the other.
"I wanted to bring you something. A present. Can I come in?"

[shooting_blind]

Saturday's pleasure as Jack follows him to the torture room despite pain and an irregularly beating sluggish heart pleases and comforts him the way cool clean sheets and a hot bath would a normal person.
He keeps the pirate in his peripheral vision, not wanting to miss a second of this struggle. In this way Jack is beautiful. This will to live and do anything it takes. This is the only art Saturday understands.

By time Jack goes to his knees he's farther then Sat thought he would get, but still has a third of the way to go. The agent turns and walks backward. Careful steps keeping just inches in front of the pirate.

When Jack gets close enough to see inside the room it's bright. There are plastic sheets hanging down the walls and covering the floor. Flat tables with straps and machines with wires. Powertools...

[downwithmyship]

Jack wants to run the second he sees the room. His mind can't even make sense of most of it. Still, there's an instinctual terror that fires through every synapse in his brain; through every aching nerve in his body. Trying to get to his feet only takes him a fraction of a foot away, though, before he falls to his hands and knees. His breathing is sharp, short and desperate. He's not getting enough air. He's dizzy and his vision is graying at the edges. Still, he won't allow himself to pass out.

"P..please, no...."
He struggles, hopelessly trying to turn; trying to drag himself from this den of horrors before the nightmare can really begin.

[shooting_blind]

Poor thing.
Some human part of his brain too deep down to be completely bleached by his government feels bad for Jack. It's the face. Which is, ironically, also what doomed Jack in the first place. Life is complicated.

Well, it was nice while it lasted, but the fag is too smart to go into that room. He may be looking as a terrible death by poison, but he made the right choice wen faced with torture for who knows how long. Saturday would like to think we would do the same thing.
His shoes crunch over plastic as he goes into the room alone.
"I'll trade you. Enough of this peach to keep you from going stiff and breathing right. Your heart wont have to work so hard. Some relief."
Saturday kneels on the plastic to get more to Jack's level.
"I don't want you dying like this any more then you do."
Complete lie but... no matter what Jack chooses he's coming inside.

[downwithmyship]

"Y...you'll kill me. H..hardly..see...the point."

The pirate collapses. He needs to rest if he intends to get any further away, but he won't come closer either. Fighting his death is one thing, but opting for a worse one is hardly in his benefit. Jack's a negotiator. The offers on the table at present don't suit him one bit. Still, he doesn't have long left to argue.

[shooting_blind]

Saturday is out of time. He doesn't want to risk someone coming up and seeing this. Especially Pearl or Hunter. Hunter's body is too big and Sat doesn't want to have to deal with getting rid of it. Killing Pearl would shut Jack down. The woman seems to be his wife or something. Something very close to him. Her death might put him in shock and take away from this. So he gets back up again and grabs Jack by the hair.
Saturday pulls him through the door like a caveman.

Under all that plastic is soundproofing. He shits the door. It locks with a THUNK sound. An electronic keypad is used and a heavy bar as well. Jack is then pulled the same way to a chair and lifted up into it. He's strapped down at the ankles and wrists behind his back. Saturday works very quickly before it's too late. He kneels down in front of the chair and bites off a piece of the fruit. It's taken out of his mouth- wet with juice and his own spit. He holds it to the pirate's mouth.
"Eat. While you can still swallow."

[downwithmyship]

Jack can't even scream properly as he's pulled into the room. The sound is weak and strangled. Almost a wheeze. It's pitiful and pained. He can't even fight this. His struggling amounts to little more than an inconvenience for Saturday, and not much of one. Before he knows it, Jack's bound and shackled to a chair with nothing to do but await whatever torture suits Saturday's whims.

When the antidote is offered, he thinks of spitting it out. Thinks of refusing it in favor of an honorable death. But he can't. Jack is stubborn and a coward. He can't bare to willingly face his own death when there's any option at all. If he buys himself time, he may yet get free. Slowly, painfully, and begrudgingly he swallows the warm, wet bit of fruit. 'Like Persephone in Hades', he thinks, but doesn't voice it. He simply glares at Saturday and hopes like hell that this really does ease his pain and let him think again.

[shooting_blind]

"Is that what I look like when I'm beaten and surly?"
The antidote works faster then the poison. There's that at least. And really it was less a poison and more a sort of anesthetic that would have eventually frozen Jack's limbs and then heart and lungs. Same difference.

He holds the rest of the fruit to Jack, letting the man take several more bites. As he eats and juice runs down Saturday's arm he carefully pets the pirate's dirty hair.
"There. All better now. No dying for you after all."
he sits back on his heels with his arms around his knees, watching Jack. Juice drips on the plastic from his hand.

"Let me know when you're ready to start."

[downwithmyship]

Jack snarls, but he won't take the fruit from his mouth to argue or insult. The slow, creeping loss of function in his limbs stops. It's all blissfully quick to reverse, though never quick enough. How could it be? Tired and terrified, he gnaws greedily at every bit of fruit offered him, now that he knows it helps.

He hates the feeling of this madman petting him. Hates it because he has no right to do something Jack normally likes. He jerks away, but can't go far. Not when he's tied and needs that peach. Needs it like air.

He licks his lips, looking both curious and insanely angry as he considers the question.
"Hardly see where it would matter."

[shooting_blind]

Saturday's mouth goes into a tight smirk as he tries not to laugh at Jack's jerking away from him. Now that he's seeing it in person he understands the joy of hurting this body and getting that reaction from his face. He doesn't realize the tickle in his groin is the same one that went through his own persecutors during his boot camp. He's not thinking of what was done to him at all. He never does. The power of denial is strong enough to move mountains.
"Sorry. I'm new at this. I'll get better. You'll show me how."

He begins to systematically go through Jack's belongings. The bone is investigated. The beads and piece of eight.

[downwithmyship]

"Not one for torture, m'self. Afraid I wouldn' have any good advice."

Thankfully, since Jack was anticipating sex, he lacks most of his valuables. However, this means he lacks his weapons as well. No pistol. No sword. No daggers. He trusts Hunter too much, it seems. He has his rings, beads from every part of the world, a bone marlin spike, his shirt and his breeches. The breeches only have four out of the original six buttons on the legs.

Jack grumbles and pulls away from the searching but it doesn't do much good.
"Won't find anything of much worth. Wasn' planning on bartering."

[shooting_blind]

"Oh. That's fine. I'm good at torture. I meant being affectionate."

He's distracted in his answers. Jack's tangles and angles are interesting him for now. Less so the conversation. His hands follow the red scarf to make sure razors aren't kept there. He gets down to the piece of black canvas ties in Jack's hair and pinches it between his fingers.
"These aren't worth anything to you? Why do you keep beads and garbage in your hair?"

[downwithmyship]

"Ah. My mistake. Should've known, eh?"

With the bit of sail held in Saturday's fingers, Jack swings his head to pull free violently. These things are Jack's and no one else's. They are his memories and his treasures. He doesn't want Saturday touching or discussing any of it.

"Not worth anything t'you. S'different."

He knows better than to say they mean the world to him, but Jack can hardly hide it completely.

[shooting_blind]

Not completely. Not at all.
"You can keep it for now then."
He goes through Jack's other clothing. Frisks him as well as he can with Jack tied to the chair. This is slightly more businesslike, but not without some obvious pleasure. His hands smooth against the pirate's torso, down and up his arms. His thighs. Saturday shoves his hand between Jack's legs and feels him. He expects the man to get hard from it. Fag's can't help themselves. But nothing happens.
"Can you achieve a proper erection?"
He looks kind of.. unhealthy. Maybe Jack is broken. Maybe that's why he was getting his ass eaten out instead of a blow job.

[downwithmyship]

All Jack can do to avoid the frisking is look away. It's hardly effective. He struggles and grumbles, but to no avail. Eventually, he lets it happen. Might as well save his energy. Not as if this is the worst that's ever been done to him...or that will be.

"Whot?"
Jack tilts his head. Why the hell would this idiot think he can't get hard?
"Course I can! Why could I not? S'nothing wrong with any bit of me."
Well aside from his brain. His pride, for instance, has stopped him from claiming impotence to ease things on himself.

[shooting_blind]

Jack's reactions to being touched is confusing. This isn't happening the way he thought faggots were supposed to react. But that's the point isn't it? He's not going to torture this man just for fun. He's investigating. Gathering information. After all- this is all DOPE agents are trained for. He's America's goon.

"There is something wrong with you, Jack. You've proved that. You're just not functioning the way your sickness suggests. Why aren't you turned on by my touching you?"