Tainted -- chapter 3
All right... here's chapter 3 ... more scary stuff here... remember, though, I promise I won't actually show the non-con that we're leading up to here... :-S
Bear with me a couple more chapters and we'll get to the comfort, promise :P
*hugs*
DoS
Title: Tainted
Beta: the lovely and talented amproof :P
Pairing: Kris/Adam FS and possibly more eventually, temporary Kris/OFC
Rating: R
Warnings: non-con(off page), violence, torture
Disclaimer: none of this ever happened and God I hope it never does. Just fiction, and the people in the story are not mine, obviously :P
Summary: Someone wants Adam out of the way, and they'll go to any lengths to make that happen. Can Kris's and Adam's friendship survive this ultimate test?
Chapter 3
Adam braced himself for more pain, drawing back against the unyielding concrete wall behind him as his captor’s footsteps neared him - but it offered no protection from what he feared was to come. His bound hands jerked uselessly against the cuffs that held them over his head in an instinctive attempt to cover his vulnerable, battered body, to somehow protect it from further suffering - but he and his captor both knew it wasn’t going to do him any good.
The man crouched in front of him, and Adam could feel his cruel smile as he reached out a sickeningly gentle hand to touch his cheek. Adam jerked away, a violent shudder of revulsion and fear passing through him. But it was no good; he was helpless to escape as the other man grabbed his chin roughly and yanked his head back into place. A moment later, Adam felt the cold, smooth brush of steel against his cheek.
He drew in a sharp breath of alarm, his heart clenching in his chest as he waited for the blast. He stayed as still as possible, desperate to somehow show his captor that he would not resist again.
Please… God, please don’t… please don’t…
It was not the first time his captor had used a gun to threaten him; every time he did, Adam wondered if they were finally finished, if this was the time when the man would end his life. Though in some ways it would have been a blessed relief from the torment he’d been inflicting upon him, his survival instinct was still somehow strong, and his heart lurched at the contact and the threat it implied.
The masked man took cruel pleasure in terrorizing his captive in any way he could, combining savage violence with soft, soothing words and tones until Adam was so hopelessly confused and utterly freaked out that he thought he was losing his mind. The man was obviously a professional, very skilled at the kind of mind games and psychological warfare in which he was engaging; but that knowledge did not really help Adam to better handle the situation. He was kept constantly off his guard by the erratic shifts in his captor’s tones and moods, the drastic changes from brutal violence one moment to calculated gentleness the next. He had no idea what to expect at any given moment, or what to do to protect himself from greater suffering.
Nothing about the situation was in any way within his control.
And maybe that’s the point. Maybe that’s exactly what he wants me to know.
Abruptly the man released Adam, removing the gun for the moment, and Adam let out the shaky breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. A tremor passed through him with the immediate relief of having the gun no longer aimed at his head; but he immediately tensed again, his stomach lurching as he heard the man sit down beside him. His shoulder and thigh both brushed against Adam’s, so he had apparently sat down with his back against the wall to which Adam was bound, leaving virtually no space between them. His voice was casual, conversational, when he spoke into the stillness of the cold little room.
“Someone thinks you’ve been getting in the way, Adam.”
Adam struggled to focus on the cryptic words through the fog of pain and terror that filled his thoughts, but couldn’t make sense of them.
Someone… what? What is he talking about?
He swallowed hard, shaking his head slightly to indicate his confusion, since he couldn’t voice his questions. Adam flinched when he sensed his captor’s hand moving close to his face; but apparently the other man had noticed his communication problem, because all he did was to remove the cloth tied into Adam’s mouth.
Before Adam could even draw a breath, he felt the muzzle of the gun pressed between his parted, gasping lips, and froze in terror. An incongruently gentle hand cupped the back of his head, caressing slowly through his hair. His captor’s voice was low and calm as he spoke softly into his ear.
“You’re not going to make a sound, are you? You’re going to keep your mouth shut unless you’re answering me. Is that clear?”
Adam shook his head in answer to the first question, then nodded desperately to the second, his breath shallow and ragged through his nose as he fought off drowning waves of panic at the thought of how easily the man could end his life.
“Good. Good boy.”
The gun slipped out of his mouth, and Adam swallowed hard, struggling to moisten his mouth after - how long? hours? days? - of having it securely bound. He felt an overwhelming sense of relief at the approval in the man’s voice - and then immediately hated himself for taking any comfort at all in the false reassurance offered by the quiet words of his tormenter. His captor’s touch sickened him, and he wanted to pull away as the man kept idly playing with his hair, but he didn’t dare.
Many of the numerous bruises and other injuries that his face and body already bore were results of his resistance. He had fought desperately when they’d brought him in here, knowing that if he couldn’t escape then, he wouldn’t likely be able to at all. His futile efforts had been rewarded with a brutal beating that had left him barely conscious; and when he’d awakened, it was too late. Now, even the slightest resistance - pulling away when he was touched, speaking without permission during those rare moments when the gag was removed - was viciously punished.
At this point, all of the fight had been driven from him by pain and degradation.
“I bet you’re wondering why we’ve done all this to you, aren’t you, Adam?” the man beside him quietly mused.
A little calmer with the gun no longer so close to him, Adam tried to steady his breathing, his thoughts filled with a dozen possible reasons, none of which he was foolish enough to voice aloud.
Because you’re a bunch of homophobic assholes who couldn’t stand the fact that I’m actually proud of who and what I am? Or closet cases who can’t stand the sight of me because it reminds you of who you really are? Or maybe just your garden variety perverts who knew there’s no other way you’d ever get to touch me…
Okay… so maybe not all of the fight.
A vicious slap caught him off guard, knocking his head into the wall with dizzying impact. Confused, Adam wondered whether or not he’d accidentally spoken his thoughts aloud. Before he had time to consider the reason, the slap was followed by a savage punch to his already battered ribcage, and Adam could not quite hold back a choked cry of pain as he tried to double over around the injury, but was prevented by the bonds that held his wrists over his head. A moment later, the man wrapped a strong grip around Adam's throat, cutting off his air completely.
Adam struggled to pull free, gasping desperately for breath that would not come as his captor choked him mercilessly, pressing his thumb hard against Adam’s windpipe until everything started to go gray, and darkness crept in around the edges of his consciousness.
Finally, the man eased his grip on Adam’s throat, but didn’t release him. Instead, he shook him so that his head hit the wall again and snarled into his ear, “You gonna answer me, you stupid little queer, or do I need to just finish you off right here?”
Gasping for breath, struggling to think through the pain and panic of the unprovoked attack he was enduring, Adam tried to focus on what his captor had said a few moments earlier. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t recall a question. Nevertheless, he nodded weakly in response, his mind too dazed from the blows and his voice too hoarse from sickness and disuse to verbally respond. The sudden shift from disarming calm to violent fury had thrown him completely. His entire body trembled as he tried to figure out what he’d done wrong to bring on such an assault.
He flinched when the man released his throat, only to run the backs of his fingers lightly down Adam’s cheek. He fought back a wave of nausea at the disturbing intimacy of the touch, certain that vomiting all over his captor’s shoes would earn him nothing but more suffering. The constant shifts in the way he was being treated were frightening and disorienting. He had no way of knowing what he could do to keep from being hurt again.
“I’m sure you have been wondering, Adam,” the man went on, his tone calm and measured once more as he continued the invasively gentle caress, “So I’ll tell you. Like I said… you’ve been getting in the way. Someone feels like you’ve been encroaching on their territory, and you need to back off - even if that means someone has to make you do it.”
Adam was at a loss, unable to conceive of what his captor could possibly be talking about. He shook his head in helpless confusion, a queasy feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. When the man did not go on, he offered a hesitant reply. “I… I don’t understand… what… territory…?”
“Not what, Adam,” the man corrected quietly. “Who.”
None of it made any sense. Adam had thought that these men had brought him here simply to punish him for his very vocal public portrayal of his sexuality. Now, it seemed that there was more to it than that; but whether it was his pain and exhaustion, or simply the cryptic, veiled way in which his captor spoke of it - Adam simply couldn’t make sense of what he was being told.
“Kris Allen.”
Adam raised his head sharply in an instinctive need to face the man, though the blindfold prevented it.
“That’s right,” his tormentor continued with an audible smirk. “Your little friend and former roommate, whom you’ve gotten so close to these past few months.”
The man idly threaded his fingers through Adam's dirty, disheveled hair again, tugging his head backward, while his other hand began trailing suggestively up his thigh. Adam shuddered, a sick sense of realization coming over him at the subtle implication of the touch. He flinched, trying in vain to pull away. The touch immediately became hard and punishing, grasping and forcing him to remain in place.
“You need to back off,” the voice near his ear came sharp and demanding. “He’s a straight man in a committed relationship, and he doesn’t want anything to do with anything a fag like you has to offer. Am I making myself clear?”
Adam flushed with shame at the cruel words, a blow made more intimately painful by the knowledge of the feelings he did indeed hold for Kris, and how those feelings were now being thrown in his face and used against him. But despite the wishes and fantasies he’d never dared to pursue, nothing had happened between him and Kris. He knew that Kris was taken, and he didn’t want to do anything to ruin their friendship.
“I… I haven’t… I mean… we’re just friends,” he stammered out in a hoarse, uncertain whisper, swallowing hard as the man yanked his head back farther, fingers tightening painfully in his hair. “I didn’t do anything…” His words broke off in a gasp of alarm as he felt the steel of the gun tracing along his lips again, and bit back whatever else he might have said.
“Did I ask for your fucking explanations, Adam?” the man snarled viciously. “Did I even say you could speak?”
He shook his head frantically, panic quickening his breath. “You said if… if it was a question...”
The gun came down in a brutal blow that split his lip and made bright stars of color dance behind his eyes. Adam flinched as the gun pressed hard against his jaw, pushing his head back and pinning it painfully between the gun and the wall. The cold, rough stone dug into his cheek, and he held his breath, heart racing, helplessly waiting once again for the inevitable shot.
“Were you answering my question, Adam?” the gunman demanded, jamming the gun harder against his jaw and eliciting a pained whimper from his captive’s lips.
“No,” Adam whispered, shaking his head what little he could manage, fighting back hopeless tears. “No… I-I’m sorry…”
His tormentor was silent for a long, tense moment before he leaned in close and murmured in a cold, patronizing tone, “Then shut. Up.”
Adam nodded again, swallowing back a hard knot of fear that had formed in his throat. This man had proven himself to be capable of the kind of brutality Adam could not have imagined before this, and the last thing he wanted was to piss him off any further. He was trying so hard to keep it together, to not allow himself to give in to his own panic and fall apart in front of his captor yet again, but he wasn’t sure how much more he could take at this point.
Adam’s thoughts were all at once distracted from his struggle for control, and he instinctively jerked away from the invasive fingers that were suddenly sliding up under the side of his shirt; but he was unable to escape the deceptively gentle touch, stroking slowly up and down across his skin in a parody of soothing comfort. Despite his utter revulsion, however, he went obediently still when he felt the gun press up under his chin, keeping his mouth closed and his head back as his captor spoke softly into his ear.
“I don’t care what you say, Adam. The whole country knows how you feel about him - knows what you’d like to do with him - and there are some people who are not at all happy about that. And one of those people has paid me to make sure that you back off and leave him alone. Do you understand?”
Arguing the innocence of his motives when it came to Kris was not going to do him any good at that point. Adam nodded as best he could, swallowing hard against the pressure of the weapon against his neck.
“That means no more long, intimate talks in private… no more silly jokes about sexuality and your relationship in front of the entire country…” He paused, lowering his voice for emphasis as he continued sharply, “No more friendship. Whatever kind of sick, twisted thing you two have going on, it ends now. You will make sure that it ends. Or I will find you again. Don’t think I can’t. And when I do… it won’t just be you who suffers the consequences. Am I making myself clear, Adam?”
Adam nodded, his heart racing with fear from the implied threat against Kris, as well as the perilous situation he was in himself. “Y-yes,” he managed to choke out as the man removed the gun, allowing his head to fall forward again. “Yes… whatever you say… just… don’t hurt him…”
“I won’t, Adam,” was the disturbingly gentle answer, as his captor’s fingers trailed slowly down his cheek in a sickeningly intimate caress. Adam tensed in alarm as the touch drifted down, leaving his face to trace suggestively around the waistband of his jeans. His heart rate accelerated, his stomach churning with fear and disgust, as the man leaned in so close that he could feel the brush of his lips against his ear, his voice low and darkly enticing.
“I won’t hurt him… as long as you do as you’re told…”
A hot rush of nausea filled Adam’s throat at the clear implication in the man’s words and touch, and he tried to suppress the shudder of revulsion that ran through him. He shook his head without really realizing he was doing it, his mind desperately denying the terrifying truth of what was about to happen.
His captor laughed softly, a cruel, ugly sound, as he slid a hand down the back of Adam’s jeans and whispered in his ear again, words that made Adam feel ashamed and vulnerable and dirty.
“Pretty little fag like you… should be pretty good at taking orders by now, right?”
Anger and outrage rose up within Adam at the degrading, insulting words, and his mouth twisted into a bitter smirk, despite his situation.
If he only knew…
“Here’s an order for you,” he replied in a soft voice taut with anger and defiance. “Go fuck yourself.”
Adam braced for the reaction to his words. He knew when he spoke them that they’d bring down more punishment upon him, and had readied himself to accept it; but only silence followed for a few long moments. Then, the man laughed softly, a chilling sound that made a sick tremor begin in Adam’s stomach.
“Cute, kid… very cute…”
The gesture was immediately followed, however, by a brutal backhand blow that knocked his head into the wall, then another that doubled the impact, leaving Adam dizzy and disoriented, struggling not to black out as his hair was painfully seized again. His abused scalp silently screamed its protest as his captor leaned in very close again, and his words made Adam’s heart sink with horror and despair, as they confirmed his worst fears.
“… but it’ll be so much more fun fucking you."
TBC...