Fic: Higher Than Hope (Sex Corps, Jeff/Jensen) (1/4)
Title: Higher than Hope
Author name: Epeeblade
Genre: AU, RPS, sci-fi
Pairing(s): Jeffrey Dean Morgan/Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki/Adrianne Palicki, Jensen/omcs, Jensen/ofcs
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 25,000
Warnings: Character death (Not Jeff or Jensen), non-con, rape, violence, torture, body modification (non con), forced disability
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. This in no way depicts the real lives of any of the actors featured herein.
Series: This is part of the Sex Corps verse. (Verse that takes place 300 hundred years in the future, where Jeff is a soldier in the Space Corps in a galaxy perpetually at war. Jensen in a soldier in the Sex Corps, a branch of the military dedicated to sexual espionage.) Chronologically it occurs after Meadows of Heaven and before For The Heart I Once Had (to be posted June 11, 2010)
Notes:
Thanks to lapillus for the beta and whiteted for the last minute review.
Title comes from a Nightwish song, as always.
This might be hard for some to read and you guys might want to wait until the bigbang fic comes out before tackling this one. I'll provide a summary of these events for people who want to read the bigbang fic, but who can't read this one due to triggering content.
Summary:
After leaving Jeff behind on Harmony, Jensen just has one last mission to finish up his obligations to the Corps. However, nothing goes as planned, and he finds himself at the mercy of his own wits. Can he find his way back to Jeff and, by the time it's all over, will he even want to?
Higher Than Hope
By Epeeblade
Part 1
"Just relax," Kane had said.
Jensen couldn't just relax. He didn't know why this mission had gotten under his skin more so than usual. None of his missions were what you could call safe, but this one, this one was especially dangerous. For all his brave words, Jensen knew there was a good chance he wasn't coming home from this one.
And neither had twenty-seven other scuts, which was why this was so fucking important. He had to succeed.
This was their third circuit around the underground clubs on Tanvir. Slavery was legal in the Confed, but the clubs catered to a different kind of clientele, the kind that didn't want their slaves for just labor. A blackmarket was bound to spring up in any society where people were treated like animals.
All the data had led here. No matter where the scuts had been assigned, somehow they'd all managed to get lost on this planet. Not all of them had been undercover as slaves, but that didn't matter on the black circuit. The collars didn't connect to the main grid. As far as the Confed was concerned, you didn't exist without a chip or a hooked up collar.
"Stop poking at it," Kane snapped.
Jensen pulled his hand away from the collar. It felt wrong against his skin. The smooth leather was hardly different from any other collar he'd worn. It was almost impossible to feel the tiny chip embedded in it.
He knelt at their feet, nearly underneath the table in a corner of the latest shack. The clubs weren't lit up in lights with bouncers at the door turning tourists away. No, these places were hidden behind barred doors, where you had to know the password before they'd even look at you.
It smelled like blood in here. Jensen's nose twitched and he held his breath, trying to ground himself. He hated that coppery scent, how it made his heart race and belly twist. Most of the other places had smelled sour, like sex and urine barely covered by whatever liquor was on tap. This place was different.
A man was bound to a rack in another corner, being worked on with a whip. Jensen tried to tune out his pleas for mercy. Especially when his owner merely turned and offered someone else a turn. Chits changed hands along with the single-tail. Another group had strapped a woman down to one of the tables, her arms bound tightly behind her back with her legs kicked wide. They started to take turns.
"Quit it." Steve leaned forward in his seat. "Neither of you look like you're advertising anything." He cupped the small glass in his hands, rolling it between them though he didn't taste the dark beverage inside.
Kane shifted, pulling a deck of old fashioned cards out of his pocket. He started to shuffle absently, his fingers moving deftly. "You're the owner, sweetheart. I'm just the muscle."
Jensen swallowed. Not like his opinion mattered in this place. He'd worked with Kane and Carlson before, but usually they only provided transport. They were technically independent contractors, but this time the Corps needed the help of outsiders, men who weren't scuts, but loyal to the UP. Although after all these years Jensen still hadn't quite figured Kane out.
"You selling 'im?"
Steve looked up at the stranger who'd come up to their table - a stout man with a ruddy face and dressed like a port worker. "You think you can afford him?" Jensen had to hand it to him, Steve had the part of bored wealthy Confed brat down.
"Wanted a test ride first." The guy's voice was like nuts grinding against each other.
Steve grabbed his collar, throwing Jensen forward so he had to catch himself on his forearms. "Mouth only. Anything else is for the serious customers."
Jensen crawled forward, keeping his head down. He tried not to think about the substances on the gritty, dark floor.
"Come on, pretty boy." The john grabbed Jensen by his hair, pulling him up enough to grind his face against the bulge in his pants.
Jensen knew his role. Just open his mouth, let the bastard ram his sweaty cock between Jensen's lips. It tasted sour on his tongue, the earthy smell sent tears streaming down his cheeks. He was sure to look up from beneath his lashes, letting the man see his watery eyes.
Out of the corner of his eye Jensen glimpsed Steve's stricken expression. Carlson was too soft for this job. He couldn't deal. If he kept telegraphing everything he was feeling like that Jensen would tell Kane to take his partner out of there. They didn't need to give the game away so soon.
The guy pulled on Jensen's hair, getting his full attention back abruptly before thrusting deeply with his hips. His cock hit the back of Jensen's throat and he did gag in surprise. Jensen fought for his center, to sink into submitting. Never before had he had this difficult of a time during a mission in falling into his role.
It had never mattered before, letting someone else use his body like this. But now, now he had Jeff waiting for him. At the thought of Jeff seeing him like this, whored out for the greater good, Jensen burned in shame.
That was when the prick decided to come, unloading his sour spunk in Jensen's mouth. He coughed and pulled off, only to get a hard slap across his face. "Swallow, pretty boy." Finger covered his lips until he did so, wincing as it threatened to come back up again.
"Had enough?" Steve's voice broke in. "I'm not giving him away for free, you know."
With a snort the man pulled out a handful of chits out of his pocket and dropped them on the table. "Should cover it. You're gonna make a killing, man. Those lips." He shook his head then disappeared back into the crowd that was gathering around another slave who had been strapped down.
Jensen heard someone brag about having a Yohimbe worm and shuddered before he crawled back into his place at Steve's feet. Fuck, he didn't want to be on the other end of that thing. He hoped they'd be long gone before the screaming started.
"You okay?" Steve whispered.
He barely refrained from rolling his eyes. Steve knew better. Don't break cover once inside. Fortunately he didn't have to say anything. Kane kicked out, jostling Steve's leg with his own. "Grab the money before it disappears."
Steve pocketed the chits, not bothering to count. "So fucking ridiculous…" he muttered.
The door opened and all eyes shifted to it, the room suddenly silent. Jensen supposed the Confed police could always shut down these clubs, but he hadn't heard of that happening yet. The woman who walked in was no Confed cop, though the legit slave trailing her caused plenty of whispers.
She wore a skintight silver jumpsuit, with black boots that stopped around mid-thigh. Dark blond hair was pulled back, revealing a face with large blue eyes and dangerous looking lips. With a smirk she told her slave: "Wait by the door, Trevor."
"Yes, mistress." The slave could be a bodyguard, with his tall stocky frame. Jensen gave him a quick assessment, trying to decide if he was a sex slave under the table or not. With her command, however, she took him off the table for everyone in the club.
She had to be wealthy, probably a member of the Confed's upper crust, to be able to afford a personal slave like that, a legal one anyhow. Jensen wasn't surprised to see her here at all, in fact he put her on his list of possibilities. Whoever had been buying up scuts had to have some standing and most importantly - money.
He nudged Steve with his shoulder and tilted his head. They all watched her go to the bar and order a drink, and they weren't the only ones. She made people nervous, Jensen figured, despite her attractiveness she had status where they didn't. She brought her own slave here, taunting those black listed. She was trouble.
Probably his kind of trouble.
It took her a good hour before she started perusing the goods. Jensen watched as she shook her head in distaste at the guy strung up on the rack. It was long past time for him to be taken down, if his owner wanted to make any money off him at all. She turned up her nose at the group still playing with the Yohimbe worm, laughing at their slave's screams.
He tried to figure her out. She wasn't here to watch pain being doled out, but she didn't seem interested in the too intense pleasure the worm caused. Was she one for subtly herself or was she on a mission to acquire for someone else?
Eventually she made her way over to their table. "I adore the nipple piercings," she cooed, as if Jensen were in a store window display, a pair of shoes she simple must have.
Steve, for once not forgetting his damn role, reached down and tweaked one causing Jensen to arch up in surprise. "I thought they were a nice touch."
"Is he for sale or for rent?" She gestured behind her. "I heard you were giving out samples."
"He's for sale if you can afford him," Kane said.
She raised an eyebrow, taking Kane's words as a challenge. "Trevor," she called to her slave. The young man came to her side instantly. "Show them how much I can afford."
The slave had a traveling bag over one shoulder, not unusual, most slaves carried their master's belongings. Trevor dropped it on the table and undid the clasp, opening it to reveal rows and rows of the chits the Confed used for currency.
"I came here to deal, gentlemen. That is, if I found something worth my while." She narrowed her eyes at Jensen, then plucked out a handful of blue colored chits. "That should cover a test run, yes?"
Kane cleared his throat. From his discomfort Jensen could tell she had offered plenty of money just to have her way with him. "Looks about right, yeah."
"I trust you have no objection to restraints?" The spark in her bright blue eyes had Jensen's heart pumping faster. She didn't wait for an answer.
Jensen was hauled up and bent over the free table next to where Steve and Kane were sitting. They would have front row seats to the show. He felt a moment's remorse for Steve. Jensen figured it was going to be harder for Steve to watch, since Steve had grown up the child of a Meridian sex worker.
The woman clamped cuffs on Jensen's wrists, binding them together at the small of his back. She ran her hand up his flank, following the swirling patterns of his tattoo. Her mouth breathed hot and heavy at his ear. "Have you been broken, boy?"
He shuddered. "Please, don't…" he didn't know how to finish. Don't hurt me? Don't stop? A blacklisted slave needed to somehow survive, despite being unwilling.
She fisted her fingers in his hair and pulled his head up. "Shut up. You don't speak. You're nothing."
Something about her words, the way she manhandled him, it sparked his inner submissive. It wasn't the clumsy fiddling of the people who'd had him so far during this mission. She clearly knew what she was doing, understood how to play the game in a way no one else here did. His cock twitched, finally showing some interest in the proceedings.
Then she pushed him onto his back, arms caught behind him so his hips were jutting upward obscenely. She took the rings encased in his nipples and twisted them sharply. Jensen hissed in reaction. His dick thickened along his thigh.
"You're a little slut, aren't you?" her words were whispered, so low he could barely hear her. She wasn't doing this to show off, not for the others in the room, or even for Kane and Steve. This was just for Jensen. "You want it so bad you'll just take it from anyone."
Jensen swallowed, unable to answer, even if she would have allowed it. He'd never denied his love for sex, his ownership of his own sensuality, how he'd reveled in his submissive tendencies. Plenty of people had called him a slut before. But why did she make him feel so ashamed?
"Trevor." She stepped away and summoned her slave. "Be a dear and gag him with your cock."
Jensen hardened even further. He couldn't help it, especially when she tilted his head back so it hung off the edge of the table and held his mouth open for Trevor to push his cock past lips already swollen and sore.
Trevor tasted sweet and clean, probably needed to keep himself so for his mistress. Jensen wasn't in any position to work any of his tricks. He could only lie there and try to keep breathing as the cock slipped down his throat.
Before he could adjust properly to that, Jensen felt her climb onto the table and straddle him. He had time to feel the protection sheath slipped over his cock before she slid down onto him. Jensen bucked in reaction and nearly choked himself. He hadn't heard her undress and could only wonder how she'd bared herself so quickly.
Warmth surrounded him so fully. Jensen hadn't had a woman in years. But this wasn't having a woman, or even being with one. This was being put in his place and being taken. He curled his toes, the only part of Jensen with the least bit of freedom.
"You're so fucking hard," she gasped above him, her hands braced on his chest, fingernails digging into sensitive skin. "Slut. Whore. Oh!"
"Mistress," Trevor gasped. "May I?"
"Come, my boy," she said, then started rolling her hips even faster. She clamped down around Jensen, pulsing through her first climax.
Trevor let out a little cry before coming. He pulled away towards the end, letting drops of come trickle down Jensen's nose and cheeks. Jensen gasped, desperate for air. She continued to ride him, bucking against him now and pulling hard on his piercings before giving in once more. She never cried out, never moaned, never gave any verbal indication of her climax.
With a final thrust against him, she shivered and climbed off, leaving Jensen still hard under the sheath. He watched as she touched a button on her belt, which sealed the opening in her jumpsuit, covering her bared mound. Mechanical clothes? Had they thought of everything in the Confed?
She reached out and pulled the sheath off of him, letting it fall to the floor to mix with the other garbage. Jensen bit his lip to keep from crying out at the sensation, too hard and right at the edge of climax. But all thoughts of pleasure went out of his head when she rolled him off the table. His knees hit the floor hard without his arms to catch himself.
Trevor pulled a chair over from off to the side and added it to Kane and Steve's table. She slid into it gracefully. "Now, gentlemen, we can negotiate."
***
Jeff looked at the camera above the comm unit and forced a smile on his face. "So we're heading back to planet 511. That's the place where they only speak old French. The guys don't mind so much because they love working with Dr. Cortese."
He sat back and scratched at the back of his neck, realizing as he did that it was a gesture he had picked up from Jensen. Jeff sighed. "You're probably wondering why I'm not still on 328. Standard procedure. Leave a team and then move on to the next planet. We're going to check on the team on 511 first, but there are still 12 different colonies unaccounted for."
Jeff folded his hand in his lap. "Did I tell you Gyllenhaal got promoted? She's going to be working on the base on 328. She's a good kid. Deserves it. Anyway, I'll probably head back there in a month to check up on the progress. We'll see how Major Tappen is doing. He sends his regards by the way."
This time the smile on his face was genuine. "All right, so that's a damn dirty lie. But I think you knew that." Jeff looked over at the chrono. "Gotta cut this one short, Jen. I'll just put it in the queue."
He wanted to tell Jensen he hoped the mission was going well. But Jeff didn't want to put voice to his fears, didn't want to make mention of the thing that kept Jensen from him. He felt that would be inviting bad luck. "I'll comm you tomorrow. Be good." He signed off like he always did before turning off the vid recording. Then Jeff sent it to Jensen's comm code though who knew when he'd receive it.
Jeff had promised. And he always kept his promises.
***
She'd gagged Jensen before letting her slave lead him out of the club and into a nondescript hover vehicle on the street. Trevor had clipped the cuff's on Jensen's wrists to the wall in the van and moved into the driver's seat. Driver, bodyguard, what didn't this guy do?
"I think I got a bargain," she said with a laugh, closing the back door behind her before taking the cushioned seat next to a computer terminal. "Drive, Trev."
Trevor didn't respond, just put the vehicle in gear. Jensen struggled to keep his footing as they swerved to the side. She kept watching him, a smirk on her full, pink lips. Kane and Carlson had put on a good show, played the hard bargain until she'd laid down nearly the entire contents of the case of chits. No one could resist that much cash.
"Ryan, we've picked up a tail," Trevor called into the back. He didn't sound very much like a traditional Confed slave, not with the way he addressed his mistress.
The tail, of course, had to be Kane and Carlson, doing their job and seeing where this duo took Jensen, hoping it would lead them all to the missing scuts even if Jensen should somehow fail.
Ryan picked up a small scanner from the shelf under the terminal and made her way to Jensen's side. "Let's see…" She ran the slim cylinder up and down Jensen's body.
He stiffened at her actions. How had they guessed?
The scanner beeped when she passed it over his black market collar. "Figures." She undid the clasp and pulled it off Jensen's neck. He swallowed rapidly. "They're tracking the slave chip. Amateurs."
"We'll lose them at the space port anyhow," Trevor agreed with her, not taking his eyes off the controls.
Space port. That meant they were taking him off-planet. This was where the missing scuts had all disappeared, where the trail had ended. Jensen worried at the lack of good intel. What the hell had stymied the UP's info network so badly?
Ryan was still running the scanner over his body, her tongue caught between her teeth. "Ah ha," she said. "It's always the fucking piercings."
Jensen met her eyes, his own widening in shock. He pressed himself back against the wall of the van, the metal cold against his bare back.
"Oh don't look so surprised, Scut."
His heart pounded in his chest and Jensen narrowed his eyes. So this was a concerted effort to take out scuts. The only question was how the fuck were they targeting them. He glared at Ryan, unable to ask his questions with the ball gag locked around his mouth.
Ryan reached back into the drawer beneath the terminal and pulled out a set of pliers. "They always look so surprised, Trev," she said, speaking as if Jensen weren't there and listening to every word. She gripped the first nipple ring with the piers. "I'll tell you a secret pretty boy. It's because you were hard."
Jensen blinked up at her, knowing the confusion was obvious in his eyes.
"Did you even look at the other black market slaves?" She shook her head, plucking out the first ring with a swift motion before attacking the second. "Without a worm or lots of good drugs, they're never aroused. But you scuts…" Ryan clucked her tongue, pulling out the second ring. She had them both in one palm and she played with the metal absently. "You're really something else."
It was a stupid mistake. But Jensen hadn't been the only one to make it. Getting pleasure from their work was the way most scuts survived the job.
"Come on, Ryan," Trevor said from the front seat, sounding less and less like a slave with every word. "Finish it. We're nearly there and we need to lose the tail before we get to our ship."
Ryan ran the scanner over the rings in her hand. "Let's see who you are, pretty boy." She plugged the scanner right into the computer terminal, before touching a button on the flat panel. To Jensen's shock, he saw his own serial number display on the screen, before the picture changed. "Got a file on this one," Ryan said with glee. "Ackles, Jensen. Lieutenant, 2nd grade. Serial number KAZ2Y5."
At least their information was tiny bit out of date. They hadn't had word of Jensen' recent promotion to Captain. He shook his head at the absurdity. Who the hell were these people?
"Shit, Trev," Ryan said. She turned and glared at Jensen. "We got the asshole responsible for the Harris Factory disaster."
Jensen didn't expect her slow smile. "Can you say promotion?" She laughed and dropped the rings and his collar into a small chute. When she shut it Jensen heard the grind and flash that accompanied a portable garbage incinerator. He was in more trouble than he had bargained for.
***
"What do you think," Adrianne said, sliding her fingers down the headboard of the bed. "About having the wedding at my parents?"
Jared yawned. He pulled her closer, not wanting to look at the time. It seemed like he'd just gone to sleep. "You want to talk about this now? When I have to be back at the hospital in…" now he did look over at the chrono. "Fuck. An hour!"
"We just got engaged, Jared. I think it's only natural to want to start planning the wedding."
A wedding. Right. Jared fell back onto the pillow, closing his eyes for a moment. "Shouldn't that wait until my brother gets back?"
He could feel the bed dip as Adrianne moved closer. "To get married, of course. But we can plan. I'm sure Jensen isn't going to be interested in fabric or floral design."
Jared grinned. He opened his eyes to the lovely view of his fiancé hovering over him, her long blond curls hanging down past her shoulders. "You'd be surprised." He reached out to tug on one curl. "We can't pick a date until he gets back anyway."
"He's on another secret mission?"
He nodded. "But it's the last one. After this he's out of the Corps for good."
Adrianne shifted again, swinging her leg over Jared's hip and straddling him. "But you don't know when he's coming back? Hard to plan without a date."
Jared slid his hand around her slim waist. "But it'll be one hell of a party."
She laughed, leaning down for a kiss. "How long did you say we had until you had to go in to work?"
With a swift movement Jared shifted them both until she was beneath him. "I have some vacation time due…"
He loved it when she laughed, but Jared loved to hear her moan even more.
***
They'd put him in a fucking cage. Ryan had fitted one of the official Confed slave collars around Jensen's neck before they dragged him on board their ship. He'd tried to get a look at the manifest before boarding, but it was hidden from the angle of the gangplank. Jensen let his shoulders slump as Trever dragged him inside. It wasn't like he could tell anyone, even if he had seen the name of the ship.
"Get him settled. I'll tell Patrick we're ready to go," Ryan commanded before leaving them.
Before Jensen could even think about making a break for it - bound and gagged as he was - he felt the press of a laser pistol against his back. "Walk, pretty boy."
Jensen by now was pretty damn sure Trevor wasn't a slave, but he couldn't figure out what he was. The ship wasn't much different from the two-man cruiser Kane and Carlson called home - standard Confed construction, smaller living quarters and a larger cargo compartment.
This cargo unit held cages. Dozens of them, tiny square boxes that could barely fit a man. Although Jensen did fit when Trevor shoved him inside, he just couldn't stand or straighten his legs in any way. The fake slave undid the binding keeping Jensen's hands behind his back, but the cuffs remained around his wrists. Jensen crouched on his hands and knees, watching as Trevor ripped the slave collar from his own throat.
"Had about enough of that." Trevor rubbed his throat. He reached between the bars and Jensen instinctively flinched. With a smirk, Trevor released the catch on the ball gag and pulled it away.
Jensen brought his lips together and swallowed in relief. He didn't speak, not until Trevor returned with a squirt bottle full of water. "Open." The cool liquid on his tongue was like elixir, relieving his dry throat.
"Who are you people?" he asked, croaking the words out.
Trevor tugged on the lock on the cage, inspecting it for a moment. "What, you're not buying the whole slave traders who just got lucky?"
"Nobody is that lucky," Jensen spat. Not when they knew how to find his tracer, or how to decode his serial number into giving his identity. This was a plot and it was his job to unravel it.
Trevor tapped the water bottle against the cage. "Luck generally runs out. You think the UP were the only ones to come up with the whole sex warrior concept?" He snorted. "The Parvati Project is superior in every way compared to your pitiful little Sex Corps."
Jensen gripped the cold metal bars between his fingers. It had been only a matter of time before the Confed figured them out. "So why do this? Kidnap the scuts?"
"You mean arrest war criminals." Trevor looked offended for a moment. He returned to the front of the cargo hold before coming back with a shallow metal pan, which he shoved under the narrow slot just under Jensen's cage. "You need to piss, do it out the bars, there's a ditch along the walls. This," he gestured to the pan, "is for everything else. I'll be back when it's feeding time. Enjoy your trip." Trevor leaned close to the cage, his next words had a hard bite, "It's not like you're going to live much longer when it's over."
***
Jensen thought of Harmony. He couldn't help but compare this cage to the one Duke Adrian had locked him inside. That cage had kept him completely immobile, positioned for fucking, a perfect little sex toy. It had been only the first in a series of torment Adrian meant to use to break him. He remembered how it had felt in the Obliette, unable to feel anything but the solitude of his own mind. Jensen would have begged for anything, even pain then.
This cage wasn't meant to be sexual, it was mean to demean and incapacitate. They always kept the lights on in the cargo hold, so Jensen never knew how much time had passed. He counted the number of times Trevor came to feed him - nutrient rich goop through a tube - or bathe him by blasting a hose through the bars of the cage. Jensen had never felt more like an animal.
Especially when they finally came for him. Jensen guessed it had been about five days, judging how sore his muscles felt and the number of visits from Trevor. When he crawled out of the cage Jensen knew he couldn't stand. His legs cramped up and he collapsed at the feet of his captors.
"Not like we need you to walk," Ryan said before jabbing a hypo in his neck. Jensen blinked twice and then he was out.
***
Running the Reclamation Project had been much easier when finding potential survivors was only a theory and not a reality. Jeff hadn’t counted on this much paperwork, and after regaining ties with two colonies, he had plenty of reports to catch up on, never mind the intricacies in dealing with the people of Harmony.
Jeff scratched his scalp with his stylus, the words on his tablet blurring into one another. A knock on the wall drew his attention and he looked up at Caroline Chickezie who stood in the doorway. He was alone in the Project's offices, the section of the ship filled with labs, conference rooms and storage areas all set aside for his team's use.
"I just came by to deliver the samples we collected today. I didn't expect to see you here, Commander."
He tapped the stylus against the table. "Someone has to read all the reports you wrote."
She chuckled. "Have you given any more thought to splitting the team?"
It had come up at the last staff meeting, putting an officer in charge of each planet and letting Jeff off of fieldwork. Thing was, he liked the fieldwork; it was the best part of this whole job. Jeff wasn't sure how much longer he was going to manage the whole thing by himself.
"Not yet. I think we can manage. A few more colonies under our belt and I might change my mind. Besides, soon enough the base on 328 will be up and running and out of my hands."
"True," she said, but she didn't look convinced. "Good night, Commander."
Jeff stared out the doorway for a while after she left. He couldn't help but think about how smoothly he'd worked with Jensen, before they left for Harmony. Even when he hardly knew him as anything else but the scut he had been assigned to work with, they had fit together. Somehow Jensen had just known was Jeff needed and simply did it.
Maybe there could be a place for Jensen here. Jeff could use the help and he knew they could work well together. If Jensen left the Corps, he could get assigned as a civilian member.
Jeff closed his eyes and sunk his head into his folded arms on the table. When? How long would Jensen be in deep cover? Would he even want that?
All Jeff knew was that he missed Jensen by his side. He had a flash of Jensen grinning as he sat up on the conference table, swinging his legs like a child.
Stars, he missed Jensen.
***
When Jensen woke up he was bound, spread eagled, his hands and feet sealed in some sort of contraption, all circuits and plastic that surrounded his skin like oversized boots and solid gloves. His bigger concern as he opened his eyes was the man watching him standing next to that Ryan bitch. They weren't on the ship anymore, but Jensen couldn't even guess at his new location. The room was sterile, cold, like a hospital ward or a medical lab.
"Ah, there we go." The man had a large tablet in his hand and he proceeded to make some notes.
Jensen needed information. He hated going into a job blind, and everything they'd planned for had been fucked to all hell in less than thirty seconds. "Who the hell are you?"
"Hmm," the man checked something off before giving Jensen his full attention. "You haven't told him anything?"
"No, Doctor Isaacs," Ryan said, giving Jensen one of those sideways smirks. "Although I think Trev might have let some things slip."
Isaacs shook his head. "You are Jensen Ackles, Lieutenant, senior grade in the UP military?"
Jensen tried to affect a shrug, difficult with how he was strung up. "Apparently you're the one with all the info."
"And all the power. You should remember that. Right now you're property of the Confederation of Free Planets."
He barely refrained from snorting at that. Really, did they not see the irony? "Right, I know how that works. Why aren't I in a mine somewhere?"
Isaacs grinned. "Would you prefer that? It can be arranged, perhaps. If you're still intact when we're done here."
A chill ran down his spine at those words. "Doing what, exactly?"
"Right now? Inspection." Isaacs nodded at his tablet as he circled Jensen slowly, always writing notes.
Ryan continued to smirk at him, leaning against something that looked like an examination table. Jensen swallowed hard at the sight of it. What kind of inspection did Isaacs mean?
Almost as soon as he thought it, Jensen felt the sudden pain in his right shoulder blade. Isaacs was behind him, Jensen could feel the warmth of his body against his back. Jensen sucked in a breath, at first not sure what Isaacs was doing back there. But then the scent reached his nose, the metallic tang of blood.
Jensen stilled. They had his file. They knew. Somehow against all odds, they knew his weaknesses. He had to play this right, pretend it didn't bother him. But he couldn't help the tension in his muscles, how his body stiffened at the touch of the blade on his skin.
"What was the purpose of your mission?" Isaac's voice came like the wind just below Jensen's ear.
Jensen swallowed but didn't respond.
Isaac's continued to circle Jensen, now facing him, he held a long thin scalpel in one hand, the tablet tucked under the other arm. "Hmm? Don't feel like talking about that? How about you tell me what happened to Daneel Harris."
As he spoke Isaac flicked the scalpel, slicing a neat length down the center of Jensen's chest. "How do you people know this?" Jensen demanded. He didn't look down, didn't even flinch at the cut, trying not to think about it. He focused on Ryan's sly grin, the curve her body made against the bed.
Isaacs stepped back, blocking Jensen's view as he pulled out his tablet and checked it again. "I see." He reached up with the blade and slid along Jensen's forearm.
"You seem to know everything already. Why do you even need to talk to me?" Jensen could hear the breathless quality in his voice, and his lungs tightened at the need to get more air.
"Daneel Harris. Where is she?"
Jensen saw the red trail down his arm out of the corner of his eye. He felt the liquid drip onto his shoulder, sliding so slowly down his skin. His belly clenched. "She's dead," he whispered, black spots appearing before his eyes.
Isaacs said something, but Jensen couldn't hear him. Everything seemed so far away as he gave in and passed out.
A splash of cold water to his face brought him back. Jensen coughed and blinked, pulling on his restraints which didn't give at all.
"Well now that was educational." Ryan stood with her arms crossed over her chest. An empty bucket sat at her feet. Jensen could probably blame her for the good soaking. "I don't know how you managed at all if you go down so quickly. At this rate, Doc, you'll have him broken in a week."
Jensen struggled to keep calm at her words. He bit his lip to keep back the harsh words ready to break free.
"You'd be surprised, my girl." Isaacs wrote notes on his tablet.
"Master Isaacs?" A voice had Jensen looking over to where a young man had entered the room. He wore a slave collar and not a stitch of clothing. But apparently that wasn't enough. The boy had brightly colored tattoos that covered his forearms and legs, one side red, the other blue and green. As he stepped closer Jensen gasped. The slave had two cocks, hanging hard and heavy between his legs. "Master Alan said you'd summoned me."
A smile curved across Isaacs' face, the expression making Jensen want to shudder. "Yes, my boy. Just wanted to show off one of our success stories. Come."
The slave dropped to his knees and crawled across the floor, revealing the row of spikes that went down his spine, reminding Jensen of a lizard. He snuggled against Isaac's leg, climbing it like an animal.
"What do you think of my latest acquisition, pet?" Isaac's stroked his hand through the slave's hair.
The slave turned his gaze onto Jensen. He opened his mouth and licked his lips, revealing a forked tongue. "Pretty. What are you going to do to this one?"
Isaacs looked like he was seriously contemplating the question. "I'm sure I'll come up with something. I did spectacular work on you, boy, didn't I?"
Jensen realized all the boy's modifications must have been done by Doctor Isaacs. His heart beat so loudly it was all he could hear. What the hell did Isaacs want to do to Jensen?
"Ryan, take him to his cage," Isaacs turned away, obviously done with whatever he needed to do. "I need some time to work on this case."
Ryan smirked at Jensen. He had never wanted to punch someone so much.
***
Jensen's cage was one in a series along a hallway, set into the walls with a low ceiling and iron bars. It made him think of some warped human zoo. They didn't need to use the bars, forceshields would have worked perfectly well, but the Confed had always been about psyching out the mind.
Which was probably why Ryan had taken him past 'the lounge' on their way down here. Jensen couldn't stop thinking about the woman he saw serving there. She had worn a serving collar, not completely out of the ordinary. It fit around her mouth giving it the extra support needed to attach a serving tray or a dildo, or whatever her master so wished. It was when she turned around that Jensen had gasped. Her arms were more than just bound behind her back, the skin had been stitched together so she could never separate her arms again.
He curled his arms around his knees, sitting up against the wall in his cell. Like the cages on the ship, the ceiling was too low for him to stand, but at least Jensen could stretch out if he wanted. The floor was stone cold against his ass, with a narrow ditch along the back wall for a latrine. Jensen had gagged into it a few times, his mouth still sour from the men Ryan had let him 'service' up in the lounge.
Jensen ran his finger along his forearm. They'd healed the cuts Isaac's had made, but hadn't left the skin sealer on long enough, leaving a thin white scar. Of course, they didn't give a damn about marking him. Jensen wasn't worth anything but the pleasure his pain and suffering would bring.
A clang on one of the bars had him lifting his head. Jensen crawled to the front of his cell and listened hard. There were twenty cells, but he'd noted only about ten of them had a prisoner inside. Jensen didn't know if they were all scuts who'd gone missing or what had happened to the other 17. The woman from upstairs had looked familiar, but Jensen hadn't recognized her from either his time at the academy or the series of vids he'd looked at before this mission.
The clang turned into a series of taps from the cell diagonal to his. Jensen recognized it after a moment. It was an old code, something they learned back at the Academy in military history, even though it wasn't used anymore. Mike and Tom had gotten a kick out of it, tapping out obscene messages during class.
The tapping spelled out his name. Jensen tapped back quickly. "Yes. Who are you?"
He closed his eyes when the tapping came back with the name "Mike." Mike's name hadn't been on the list of missing. Even though he was overdue for returning from his mission, they'd had no evidence to think he'd ended up with the other missing scuts on Tanvir.
Jensen pressed close to the bars, trying to see his friend. "Are you ok?" he tapped back, slow and methodical, still not sure he got all the letters correct.
He heard a snort in reply. Jensen smiled, yeah, that was Mike all right. He wondered why Mike didn't speak to him at first, but realized they couldn't give their captors any more ammo to use against them. Not when the Confed already held all the cards. Jensen leaned his forehead against the bars, the cold metal soothing. At least he wasn't alone here. Maybe, with Mike's help, he'd survive this after all.
***
The first time they pulled both Jensen and Mike out of their cells Jensen wondered if he'd somehow given away that they were friends. Maybe their captors had figured out the tapping on the bars was more than just boredom. Or perhaps those files detailed a lot more than just their military careers and sexual preferences.
Jensen tried to swallow down his fear as one of the guards hit the control switch for the gauntlets that covered Jensen's arms from fingers to elbows. They were effective restraints, clamping down over his hands whether Jensen held them out or not. He was forced to follow the guard, the cuffs pulling him in the right direction.
Mike had his own guard leading him, and he was careful not to look back at Jensen as they walked out of the corridor of cells. Nothing stopped Jensen from taking in Mike's too thin frame, his pale skin and shaved head. How long had Mike been trapped here?
As they stepped onto the platform of the only lift that led out of here, Jensen brushed his bare hip against Mike's, hoping it looked like an accident. It was the only comfort he could give, that moment of skin to skin contact that told Mike he was here.
The doors slid open to reveal Isaacs' lab. Fuck. Jensen felt like there was a pit of ice in his belly. It always ached, the nutrient sludge that they forced down his throat was never enough to satisfy his hunger, and now it roiled. He had to choke down the urge to vomit. Jensen couldn't show his anxiety, couldn't let Isaacs know how much he got to him.
"Excellent! Two perfect specimens, thank you gentlemen." The man in question appeared from behind a row of hospital beds. He was in the process of pulling on a pair of long rubber gloves.
"Where do you want 'em?"
"Oh, I think I have it from here." Isaacs took the control box from one of the guards. He had a smile on his face, looking more than eager at the prospect of whatever he had planned.
When the guards left Jensen knew it was going to be bad. He just couldn't guess how bad.
Issacs forced them both into a room empty of anything except for drains in the tiled floor. The walls were just as pristine and cold, with hoses hung on hooks. At first Jensen didn't understand why Issacs brought them here just to wash them. The guards already blasted water through the bars of their cages, whether the scuts were awake or not.
His arms were lifted against his will, the gauntlets pulling them up over his head, so high Jensen had to stand on his toes, which barely scraped the floor. He gasped, taken aback by how quickly he'd been put in his place.
Mike still stood next to Isaacs, his expression blank, eyes lowered, still not looking at Jensen. One of the gauntlets sputtered and then released Mike's right hand, which he flexed before curling it into a fist.
"Do you know our new scut?" Issacs said, his tone as conversational as if they were all sitting around a table having lunch. "You know, I've found quite a few of you do know each other. Wonder if that's how they trained you, made you all fuck each other in the barracks."
Mike flinched at his words, but didn't speak.
"Well, I suppose I should introduce you." Issacs stepped across the room, touching Jensen's bare torso with his rubber clad fingers. Jensen knew better than to struggle. He tried to keep his breathing even and not tense with anticipation. "We have here one Jensen Ackles. Serial number kaz2y5. Submissive. And with a lovely little aversion to blood."
Jensen could feel his heart race. Hearing his file summed up that way, by someone who had no right to that information, filled him with anger. He tried to hold on to it, letting the rage keep him from other emotions.
"Handy of them, don't you think?" Isaacs turned back to Mike. "To put everything in that file, just so we can pluck it out." He reached into the pocket of his labcoat and pulled out a slim silver scalpel. "Your file, also so very interesting." Isaacs waved the blade before Mike's eyes. "Sadist. Loves to give pain. Why, Rosenbaum, you are a gentleman after my own heart."
Mike wouldn't, Jensen thought. There was no way Isaacs could force him to do this. No way.
He kept thinking that right up until the electric shock from the slave collar had his limbs twitching in pain. Jensen screamed, head thrown back. It felt like he was on fire from the inside, burning from fingertips to toes.
It stopped, blessed relief, as Jensen sagged in his bonds. Then he felt the bite of the scalpel into his skin, the sharp slice along his lower back almost a release when compared to the lightning pain from before. He looked over his shoulder and met Mike's eyes as Mike cut him once again.
"Mike," Jensen tried to speak, to say anything that could make this better.
"Shh." Mike eyes flicked over to where Isaacs was still standing and watching. There would be no way to communicate. Not like this.
"And you call yourself a sadist?" Isaacs mocked, interrupting the moment. "There's hardly any blood at all. Perhaps you need a bigger knife."
Jensen didn't pass out until Mike was given his third blade of the session - long and jagged and lethally sharp. There was no way to cut gently with that, not even for someone as experienced as Mike.
Mike's stricken face was the last thing he saw, as the metallic scent of the blood overtook everything, made it so Jensen couldn't breathe. Dark spots clouded his vision and Jensen fell into unconsciousness gratefully.
Only to gasp awake as bitter cold water hit his body and washed the blood away. Isaacs had a skin sealer in his hand. It was only the beginning.
***
Jensen didn't find out why Mike couldn't scream until they were both sent to the lounge together. They always brought him to the lounge when Isaacs was busy with another scut. It was almost like they didn't want him to get too complacent, to forget there was even more torment awaiting him.
Although in the lounge Jensen could use his skills in a way he couldn't while bound at Isaacs' mercy. Here they just wanted to fuck him and they didn't care how or if he responded or not. Jensen understood that, hell, it had been the focus of most of his missions over the past ten years. He knew how to use that, to make himself more desirable.
The faces changed in the lounge. Jensen paid attention whenever he had his turn up here, and made a careful note of every person who'd pushed him down and took his mouth or his ass. They were dressed like upper-class Confed nobility for the most part, in brightly colored silks and flashy gold jewelry. Occasionally he'd spend a turn here with nothing but off-duty guards being given a reward, and those faces Jensen never forgot.
Today he knelt on his hands and knees, back flat to support the delicate glass of champagne the woman in pink silk had rested there. If he let it drop, she'd promised him twenty lashes with the whip hung on the wall behind the bar. Jensen knew he'd let it fall eventually. Even if he could keep still the entire time, either she or one of her friends would knock it off just to prove a point.
"A thousand chits if he doesn't let it fall," a male voice laughed.
"Now where would be the fun in that? I'm itching to get my hands on that whip already."
Jensen locked his muscles to keep from trembling. The whip could mean blood and he didn't need his weakness mocked here too.
"Look, Dhruv, there's that mouthy slut you took care of last time."
They all dissolved into laughter that had Jensen cringing at the sound. He saw Mike being led into the room, pushed until he fell on his hands and knees. One of the men - presumably Dhurv - lounging on the couch behind Jensen stood and went over to Mike.
"Why don't you open your mouth, slut? Tell me exactly what you think of me?"
More laughter as Dhurv undid the crotch of his pants, freeing a thick and heavy erection. "That's right, you can't, can you?"
He took a hold of Mike by the ears, forcing his jaw open. Just before Dhurv shoved himself inside Mike's too red mouth, Jensen caught sight of the ruined bit of flesh that used to be Mike's tongue.
The champagne glass shattered with a loud clinking as it hit the floor.
Part 2
