Brave New Ship - Thrill of the Chase
Title: Thrill of the Chase
Pairing(s): Thompson/Bennet; Claude/Bennet UST hints; Thompson/Claude hints
Rating: NC-17 for graphic sexual content and drug use
Warnings: drug use, non-con*
Summary: Bennet discovers some things about his boss. Maybe.
Word Count: 3395 per Word Perfect (3412 per MSWord - yay for punctuation marks = words! O.o)
Disclaimer: I don't own them. If I did, Claude and Bennet would have had steamy sex in the car on that bridge, and then Bennet would have let him escape! And Thompson would be back in S2.
Author's/artist's notes: Written for the rare_heroes Brave New Ship challenge. *Spoilery notes -- highlight to read if you find the rating and warning info to be potential triggers: This story includes what would be considered rape via use of 'date-rape drugs' and a definite abuse of power by one of the characters over the other. If any of this disturbs you, don't read it. This is a work of FICTION and as such is not intended to condone or encourage any of these things. I am aware that in the real world, these things are Bad.
Thrill of the Chase
by Penemuel
Apparently, or at least so he'd been told, getting the newbie drunk after his first successful 'hunt' was a bit of a tradition at the Company. He wasn't really going to complain since Thompson was buying and Thompson was his boss, after all. But around the second glass he was beginning to wonder about the significant glances Claude seemed to be throwing his way.
"What?" he finally asked, trying very hard not to grin like a fool and at the same time wondering why this whiskey seemed to have so much more of a kick than what he had at home.
"I just think ya should take it easy, Pup," Claude said, narrowing his eyes as Thompson poured another. "Yer gonna hate yourself in the morning."
"He'll be fine," Thompson drawled, "Won't'cha, Bennet?"
"I'm fine. Really," he answered, and Claude rolled his eyes in response. "What?"
"I'm not takin' any responsibility for whatever happens, Pup. You're on yer own," Claude said with a sigh, and then he got up and tossed back the rest of his drink. "I'm goin' to my room and gettin' a good night's sleep. Someone's gotta be the responsible adult around here..."
Bennet watched as Claude stalked out of the bar, feeling like he'd missed something and not having a clue what it might be. "Okay, fine..." he said belatedly, then he took another swallow of whiskey and savoured the burn on the way down.
"So," Thompson said, looking around the bar, then grinning at Bennet. "Want to take this somewhere we don't need to speak in code?" He stood up, picking up the bottle and flashing a bright smile at Bennet.
"That... sounds like a plan," Bennet found himself agreeing, slowly making his way to his feet. Dizziness washed over him and he gripped the edge of the table, startled by how he felt, by how badly the room was spinning. This wasn't normal -- he hadn't really drunk that much, and just because this wasn't top shelf shouldn't have made any noticeable difference.
"Whoa -- easy there," Thompson said, catching his elbow and steadying him. "Okay, maybe a little too much excitement today, hmmn?"
"Maybe a bit..." he answered, nodding slowly to keep the room from spinning too much. "Maybe I should just go lie down..."
"Yeah, let me help you with that," Thompson said, steering him out of the bar and across the parking lot to his room.
By some miracle of drunken coordination, he actually managed to get the room key out of his pocket and didn't drop it until after the door was open and he was halfway into the room. When he bent over to pick it up, he felt Thompson's free hand close on his waist, startlingly warm and strong. "Wha--"
"Didn't want you to fall over -- you should've let me get that," Thompson said, steering them both into the room and letting the door click shut behind them. He stepped away and snagged two plastic cups from next to the ice bucket and spent a few moments pouring new drinks.
A swirl of ice later and Thompson turned around and pressed one of the cups into his hand, motioning in the direction of the bed. "You should sit down and at least get your shoes off; relax, make yourself comfortable, Bennet."
He blinked, taking the cup and staring at it, then looked back at Thompson. "Yeah -- shoes. Right." He set the cup down on the nightstand and sat down on the bed, carefully leaned over to unlace his shoes then murmured, "Uh oh..." just before he lost his balance.
"Whoa -- careful," Thompson said with a chuckle, steadying him before he could fall. "You'd think you'd never been out drinking, either. So, tell me, how do you feel after your first successful hunt, hmmn? Because I'll be the first to admit I miss it myself. Being cooped up in an office all the time gets to me -- that's why I wanted to come along..."
Bennet looked up, wondering why the man was still standing so close; why his head was spinning so much and why he was so warm...
"...nothing like the thrill of the chase to get your blood really pumping," Thompson finished, and there was something predatory in his expression. Something Bennet recognized from earlier that evening, when they'd finally managed to bring down the Special they'd been after -- a dangerous one who could manipulate electricity. Thompson had been the one to knock him out with a hard blow to the back of the head; knowing, of course, that an attempt to tazer him would be suicidal. And after the Special had crumpled to the ground, Thompson had stood over him with that look in his eyes...
"Oh. Shit." He stared for a long moment, mind trapped somewhere between fear and complete disbelief before he swallowed hard and shook his head. "I think I'd like to go to bed-- to sleep now."
"Yeah, maybe the first, hmn?" Thompson purred, and then that warm hand was in the middle of his chest, pushing him back onto the bed.
"No. I don't-- I'm married, get your damned hands off me!" His protests grew louder as he found himself pinned down on the bed, Thompson's weight pressing him into the lumpy mattress. He knew he was a better fighter than this -- he and Claude had sparred enough times that he knew he should be able to push the man off despite the disadvantage of his position -- but he couldn't really make his body do what he wanted it to do, and it was so damned warm in the room... Sudden realization hit him like a punch to the gut. "You drugged me," he hissed, staring up into Thompson's predatory gaze. "You bastard, you drugged me!"
"Just a little something to loosen up your inhibitions, Bennet -- you have no idea how uptight you are. Drives Claude crazy, you know..." Thompson's voice was a low purr, lips brushing against his ear and sending shivers through him. At the mention of Claude he let out a quiet sound that might have been a moan, and Thompson smiled. "Yeah, I thought as much..."
He could feel the heat in his face, knew his body had betrayed him at the mention of his partner and the thoughts that raced through his mind. With one last desperate burst of energy he exploded into action. "Get off me, you son of a bitch," he gasped, trying to buck Thompson off and shuddering at the feel of the man's hard cock rubbing against his thigh through their jeans, at the strong hands gripping his wrists and pinning him, helpless, to the bed.
"You don't really want me to," Thompson purred, then he mouthed his way down Bennet's neck to the pulse that fluttered against his lips and tongue. "You and Claude should just stop dancing around each other and fuck before it gets in the way of your working relationship," he murmured with a knowing smirk. "Some other night, of course -- tonight, you're mine..."
"Claude..." he breathed, and his cock twitched against Thompson's thigh. "I'm not -- it's not--"
"Stop kidding yourself, Bennet," Thompson said with a grin, "You're hard just thinking about him. Bet you want to feel what it's like to have a big, strong hand wrapped around your cock; maybe feel that sarcastic mouth on it, too..." Then he raised an eyebrow and the grin turned into a smirk. "Or maybe, you're more curious about what his cock tastes like when he's fucking your mouth..."
"No!" And he wasn't going to think about the jolt that ran through his body at that thought, or the heat that pooled in his belly and slithered down to his cock; the way his body betrayed him as Thompson rolled his hips and ground their erections together.
"You're wearing way too much," Thompson purred, and suddenly one hand was free almost long enough for him to realize it and begin to fight. And then his boss -- his captor -- shifted positions, sitting straddling his hips and trapping his arms against his sides. "Times like these, it would actually be handy to be a telekinetic. Imagine all the things you could do, being able to move things with your mind..." As Thompson began to strip off his own shirt before turning his attention to undressing him, he mused, "Of course, a functioning telekinetic is about the most dangerous thing around -- we'd have a hell of a time stopping him if he wasn't loyal..."
By then, Thompson had his shirt open and freed one arm to tug it off, and he was panting and starting to writhe under him, not realizing what he was doing until Thompson chuckled and leaned down to kiss him hard and hungry. He yelped into the kiss, tried to pull away, and discovered he had nowhere to go. Hands slid over his chest, fingers toyed with his nipples, and he shivered at the unfamiliar sensations as little shocks of pleasure arced through him and settled in his balls. "...ffuck..." he breathed, when Thompson finally broke the kiss with a nip to his lower lip.
"Sandra's not one for nipple-play, is she?" Thompson asked with a smirk, and he growled, trying once again to unseat the man and ending up flopping back to the bed panting harshly. "Actually, I bet she's not one for very much play at all -- that's all right, though. We'll make up for that..."
"You son of a bitch," he snarled, glaring up at Thompson with hate burning in his eyes. The effect was ruined a moment later when Thompson ground against his cock again and he moaned out loud under him. "Stop..."
"Yeah, not gonna happen -- you don't want me to," Thompson purred, and those hands were on him again, sliding down his chest to his waistband, frighteningly deft fingers unfastening his belt and jeans. "Now, Bennet, I'm going to get up and you're going to be a good boy and stay there." A friendly grin, and he added, "Or I'll take you down so fast it'll make your head spin. More than it is already."
He entertained the idea for all of a second, a flash of thought that he could throw himself into Thompson and knock him into the wall, maybe stun him for long enough that he'd be able to run and make it to Claude's room or find his gun. Until he saw the look in Thompson's eyes as the man stripped off his jeans and boxer briefs, until he recognized it for what it was: hope that he would make a break for it. Suddenly the shiver of fear was back, and he remembered what Thompson had said about the thrill of the chase... If he ran, would he be putting Claude in danger, too? Would he be putting Sandra in danger?
By the time those thoughts made it through the haze in his mind, Thompson stood naked and hard in front of him, one hand lazily stroking his own cock. "Will he go for it or not?" Thompson asked, his tone amused as he watched the warring emotions in his face. "I'm kinda disappointed, Bennet -- I thought you'd picked that up from your partner, that stubborn, stupid streak..."
This time, he managed to keep up the hateful glare longer, until Thompson stepped closer and yanked his jeans and underwear off in one startlingly effective move. "You can't do this!" he protested, one last plea before he ran out of time.
"Yeah, actually, I can. I'm your boss -- who are you gonna go complain to, hmn?" And then Thompson was back on the bed, pinning him down, strong grip dragging his hands above his head so that one hand could pin both wrists while the other slid down to grip his hip hard enough to bruise.
He struggled against the hand pinning him until reality spun out of focus and made his stomach lurch. By the time he'd regained some semblance of equilibrium, Thompson had his hand wrapped tightly around both of their cocks and pleasure shuddered through him. "No..."
Thompson gave him a knowing smirk and rubbed the pad of his thumb insistently over the head of his cock. "Like it a little rough, do ya?" Thompson asked as his cock twitched and he cried out. "That's a good thing to know..."
"No!" he gasped, trying desperately to deny the things his body proclaimed were true. "Damn you, let me go!" But he was panting now, precum slicking the head of his cock as he splayed his legs wide and thrust up into Thompson's grip.
Thompson grinned and gave his cock another stroke, then let him go to lean over. His reprieve was brief, though; Thompson straightened again with a triumphant look and a handful of condom packets, and he knew he'd run out of time. "No!" he gasped, trying to unseat the man again and then falling back to the bed as everything lurched to one side. "You son of a bitch, I'm going to kill you," he ground out between clenched teeth, and Thompson laughed.
"You're welcome to try," the man purred with a shrug, moving to kneel between his legs. Then lube-slicked fingers rubbed between his cheeks and over his hole, insistently teasing before beginning to press in as his muscles twitched and then clenched around the invaders.
He moaned and arched as Thompson's other hand returned to his cock; bit his lip and shook his head at his traitorous body's response. "No..." he breathed as Thompson pressed deeper; didn't remember bending his legs or bucking into the strokes, but he was moaning and panting now, his body begging for more even as he tried to deny it. "Don't-- stop! Oh fuck... get your fucking hands off me!"
Thompson laughed again and purred, "You should see your hole right now, Bennet, clutching at me like this. You don't want me to stop, you want more. You want as much as you can take, and then some!" Then Thompson pressed deeper and crooked his fingers, and he cried out as pleasure exploded behind his eyes.
"Fuck!" he hissed, bucking up into Thompson's strokes, spreading his legs wide and bending one leg to open himself further.
"Soon. Don't be impatient," Thompson said with a smirk, pressing deep again and giving a quiet chuckle as he cried out.
He gasped as Thompson leaned in and kissed him again, all tongue and teeth and overwhelming heat as he whimpered and writhed. His entire body was trembling with need and hunger, mind reeling under the sensations burning through him and the haze of the drug. But he let out a whimper when Thompson pulled back and slipped his fingers from him, the dwindling rational part of his mind trying to figure out just when he'd added a third.
And then the man smiled darkly down at him and rolled a condom onto his cock; shoved his legs up towards his chest. That look in Thompson's eyes was back, and fear rushed through him as he felt the blunt head of that hard cock pressing against his hole. "You know, Bennet," Thompson said almost conversationally, "it's really a pity Claude's not going to be your first..."
He growled and tried to take a swing at Thompson, found himself caught and pinned again as hands gripped his wrists hard enough to make the bones grind together. He grunted with pain, the grunt turning into a harsh cry as Thompson shoved in and his entire body tried to clench. Cold pain shuddered through him as muscles cramped and he whimpered through gritted teeth.
"Easy, Bennet," Thompson purred, and one hand released his wrists to stroke down his chest, pausing to tease a nipple before sliding down further to wrap around his wilting cock. "Relax, and I promise the pain will fade..." And that hand kept stroking, thumb teasing over the head and rubbing into the slit until he started getting hard again, not realizing that Thompson had pulled out and pressed slowly back in until that shudder of pleasure rippled through him again and his eyes went wide. "Oh yeah, there you go..."
He moaned loudly, then, arching up into Thompson's thrusts and panting hotly; all control shattered by what the man was doing to him, by the pleasure blazing through his body. Slow, deep thrusts filled him, Thompson rolling his hips every time he pressed in so that the head of his cock rubbed right over that spot that made him helpless. He tried to fight it, but he knew he was lost, now, his body demanding more, harder, please! And Thompson was only too willing to give him exactly what he was asking for, whether he truly wanted it or not.
"That's good, Bennet -- you're a natural," Thompson purred, shifting positions so that every stroke battered against that sweet spot and left him mewling in helpless shuddering pleasure. "Yeah," thrust, "right," thrust, "there!" and Thompson smiled down at him darkly, started jacking his cock harder with a little extra twist on every stroke that almost hurt.
"Oh! Oh! Ohfuck!" he cried out, and Thompson clapped his free hand over his mouth with a warning glare.
"Damn, you're a noisy one. Remind me to bring a gag next time," Thompson purred.
His eyes snapped open and he stared at Thompson in horror, realizing what he was saying at the same time as his body responded to the thought with a surge of pleasure he couldn't hold in. With a muffled cry, he bucked up into Thompson's brutal strokes and came hard, muscles clenching on the cock deep inside him as he spurted hot and thick over the man's hand. A moment later Thompson thrust deep one more time, rolled his hips into him again and groaned loudly as he came. "Ohhfuckyeah..."
He was pretty sure he'd passed out, because he didn't really remember Thompson pulling out or disposing of the used condom, and the next time he opened his eyes the room was spinning and Thompson was looking down at him with that same damned predatory grin. "So, Bennet, feel up to round two yet?"
* * *
He lay breathless and exhausted, sprawled across the lumpy mattress as Thompson picked up the phone and dialed a number without even looking at the buttons. He couldn't focus enough to tell what the man was saying, and the ache in his ass was the only thing that kept him from drifting off into full sleep.
He was sure some time had passed when Thompson shook him awake and he found himself lying in the bed, head half buried under the pillow. "Hey, Bennet, how d'you feel?"
"Like I'm going to kill you as soon as I can make my hands work," he answered quietly, squinting up at him and finding himself half-blinded by the cheap motel lighting.
"Yeah, well, probably not. You see, I've called someone to deal with that little loose end." A flash of that fake friendly grin, then, "Amazing kid, he's got just about the coolest ability around. Too bad you're not actually going to remember you met him, either..."
Something about that tone sent a shock of adrenaline through him, pushing the drugged haze back just enough that he could focus. Just enough that he remembered what Thompson had done to him. Everything Thompson had done to him -- until a lanky black teen stepped up next to the bed and reached out to touch his forehead...
* * *
"Ya look like crap, Pup," Claude said at breakfast, shooting a withering glare at Thompson before pouring a cup of coffee and pushing it over next to Bennet's hand. "Told ya not to drink so much."
"Yeah, he kinda overdid it," Thompson said with a smirk, eyes sweeping over Bennet's ragged appearance and not missing the suspicion in Claude's gaze. "Don't worry, Bennet, we'll get you home and you can rest up. Be right as rain for the next hunt..."
Bennet picked up the cup of coffee and clung to it with both hands, trying to will his roiling stomach and aching head to just give him a break and kill him already. "Yeah, sounds great," he said softly, wincing as his head throbbed despite his caution. "Can hardly wait."
"Me either," Thompson said, grinning. "Me either."
~~end~~
Pairing(s): Thompson/Bennet; Claude/Bennet UST hints; Thompson/Claude hints
Rating: NC-17 for graphic sexual content and drug use
Warnings: drug use, non-con*
Summary: Bennet discovers some things about his boss. Maybe.
Word Count: 3395 per Word Perfect (3412 per MSWord - yay for punctuation marks = words! O.o)
Disclaimer: I don't own them. If I did, Claude and Bennet would have had steamy sex in the car on that bridge, and then Bennet would have let him escape! And Thompson would be back in S2.
Author's/artist's notes: Written for the rare_heroes Brave New Ship challenge. *Spoilery notes -- highlight to read if you find the rating and warning info to be potential triggers: This story includes what would be considered rape via use of 'date-rape drugs' and a definite abuse of power by one of the characters over the other. If any of this disturbs you, don't read it. This is a work of FICTION and as such is not intended to condone or encourage any of these things. I am aware that in the real world, these things are Bad.
Thrill of the Chase
by Penemuel
Apparently, or at least so he'd been told, getting the newbie drunk after his first successful 'hunt' was a bit of a tradition at the Company. He wasn't really going to complain since Thompson was buying and Thompson was his boss, after all. But around the second glass he was beginning to wonder about the significant glances Claude seemed to be throwing his way.
"What?" he finally asked, trying very hard not to grin like a fool and at the same time wondering why this whiskey seemed to have so much more of a kick than what he had at home.
"I just think ya should take it easy, Pup," Claude said, narrowing his eyes as Thompson poured another. "Yer gonna hate yourself in the morning."
"He'll be fine," Thompson drawled, "Won't'cha, Bennet?"
"I'm fine. Really," he answered, and Claude rolled his eyes in response. "What?"
"I'm not takin' any responsibility for whatever happens, Pup. You're on yer own," Claude said with a sigh, and then he got up and tossed back the rest of his drink. "I'm goin' to my room and gettin' a good night's sleep. Someone's gotta be the responsible adult around here..."
Bennet watched as Claude stalked out of the bar, feeling like he'd missed something and not having a clue what it might be. "Okay, fine..." he said belatedly, then he took another swallow of whiskey and savoured the burn on the way down.
"So," Thompson said, looking around the bar, then grinning at Bennet. "Want to take this somewhere we don't need to speak in code?" He stood up, picking up the bottle and flashing a bright smile at Bennet.
"That... sounds like a plan," Bennet found himself agreeing, slowly making his way to his feet. Dizziness washed over him and he gripped the edge of the table, startled by how he felt, by how badly the room was spinning. This wasn't normal -- he hadn't really drunk that much, and just because this wasn't top shelf shouldn't have made any noticeable difference.
"Whoa -- easy there," Thompson said, catching his elbow and steadying him. "Okay, maybe a little too much excitement today, hmmn?"
"Maybe a bit..." he answered, nodding slowly to keep the room from spinning too much. "Maybe I should just go lie down..."
"Yeah, let me help you with that," Thompson said, steering him out of the bar and across the parking lot to his room.
By some miracle of drunken coordination, he actually managed to get the room key out of his pocket and didn't drop it until after the door was open and he was halfway into the room. When he bent over to pick it up, he felt Thompson's free hand close on his waist, startlingly warm and strong. "Wha--"
"Didn't want you to fall over -- you should've let me get that," Thompson said, steering them both into the room and letting the door click shut behind them. He stepped away and snagged two plastic cups from next to the ice bucket and spent a few moments pouring new drinks.
A swirl of ice later and Thompson turned around and pressed one of the cups into his hand, motioning in the direction of the bed. "You should sit down and at least get your shoes off; relax, make yourself comfortable, Bennet."
He blinked, taking the cup and staring at it, then looked back at Thompson. "Yeah -- shoes. Right." He set the cup down on the nightstand and sat down on the bed, carefully leaned over to unlace his shoes then murmured, "Uh oh..." just before he lost his balance.
"Whoa -- careful," Thompson said with a chuckle, steadying him before he could fall. "You'd think you'd never been out drinking, either. So, tell me, how do you feel after your first successful hunt, hmmn? Because I'll be the first to admit I miss it myself. Being cooped up in an office all the time gets to me -- that's why I wanted to come along..."
Bennet looked up, wondering why the man was still standing so close; why his head was spinning so much and why he was so warm...
"...nothing like the thrill of the chase to get your blood really pumping," Thompson finished, and there was something predatory in his expression. Something Bennet recognized from earlier that evening, when they'd finally managed to bring down the Special they'd been after -- a dangerous one who could manipulate electricity. Thompson had been the one to knock him out with a hard blow to the back of the head; knowing, of course, that an attempt to tazer him would be suicidal. And after the Special had crumpled to the ground, Thompson had stood over him with that look in his eyes...
"Oh. Shit." He stared for a long moment, mind trapped somewhere between fear and complete disbelief before he swallowed hard and shook his head. "I think I'd like to go to bed-- to sleep now."
"Yeah, maybe the first, hmn?" Thompson purred, and then that warm hand was in the middle of his chest, pushing him back onto the bed.
"No. I don't-- I'm married, get your damned hands off me!" His protests grew louder as he found himself pinned down on the bed, Thompson's weight pressing him into the lumpy mattress. He knew he was a better fighter than this -- he and Claude had sparred enough times that he knew he should be able to push the man off despite the disadvantage of his position -- but he couldn't really make his body do what he wanted it to do, and it was so damned warm in the room... Sudden realization hit him like a punch to the gut. "You drugged me," he hissed, staring up into Thompson's predatory gaze. "You bastard, you drugged me!"
"Just a little something to loosen up your inhibitions, Bennet -- you have no idea how uptight you are. Drives Claude crazy, you know..." Thompson's voice was a low purr, lips brushing against his ear and sending shivers through him. At the mention of Claude he let out a quiet sound that might have been a moan, and Thompson smiled. "Yeah, I thought as much..."
He could feel the heat in his face, knew his body had betrayed him at the mention of his partner and the thoughts that raced through his mind. With one last desperate burst of energy he exploded into action. "Get off me, you son of a bitch," he gasped, trying to buck Thompson off and shuddering at the feel of the man's hard cock rubbing against his thigh through their jeans, at the strong hands gripping his wrists and pinning him, helpless, to the bed.
"You don't really want me to," Thompson purred, then he mouthed his way down Bennet's neck to the pulse that fluttered against his lips and tongue. "You and Claude should just stop dancing around each other and fuck before it gets in the way of your working relationship," he murmured with a knowing smirk. "Some other night, of course -- tonight, you're mine..."
"Claude..." he breathed, and his cock twitched against Thompson's thigh. "I'm not -- it's not--"
"Stop kidding yourself, Bennet," Thompson said with a grin, "You're hard just thinking about him. Bet you want to feel what it's like to have a big, strong hand wrapped around your cock; maybe feel that sarcastic mouth on it, too..." Then he raised an eyebrow and the grin turned into a smirk. "Or maybe, you're more curious about what his cock tastes like when he's fucking your mouth..."
"No!" And he wasn't going to think about the jolt that ran through his body at that thought, or the heat that pooled in his belly and slithered down to his cock; the way his body betrayed him as Thompson rolled his hips and ground their erections together.
"You're wearing way too much," Thompson purred, and suddenly one hand was free almost long enough for him to realize it and begin to fight. And then his boss -- his captor -- shifted positions, sitting straddling his hips and trapping his arms against his sides. "Times like these, it would actually be handy to be a telekinetic. Imagine all the things you could do, being able to move things with your mind..." As Thompson began to strip off his own shirt before turning his attention to undressing him, he mused, "Of course, a functioning telekinetic is about the most dangerous thing around -- we'd have a hell of a time stopping him if he wasn't loyal..."
By then, Thompson had his shirt open and freed one arm to tug it off, and he was panting and starting to writhe under him, not realizing what he was doing until Thompson chuckled and leaned down to kiss him hard and hungry. He yelped into the kiss, tried to pull away, and discovered he had nowhere to go. Hands slid over his chest, fingers toyed with his nipples, and he shivered at the unfamiliar sensations as little shocks of pleasure arced through him and settled in his balls. "...ffuck..." he breathed, when Thompson finally broke the kiss with a nip to his lower lip.
"Sandra's not one for nipple-play, is she?" Thompson asked with a smirk, and he growled, trying once again to unseat the man and ending up flopping back to the bed panting harshly. "Actually, I bet she's not one for very much play at all -- that's all right, though. We'll make up for that..."
"You son of a bitch," he snarled, glaring up at Thompson with hate burning in his eyes. The effect was ruined a moment later when Thompson ground against his cock again and he moaned out loud under him. "Stop..."
"Yeah, not gonna happen -- you don't want me to," Thompson purred, and those hands were on him again, sliding down his chest to his waistband, frighteningly deft fingers unfastening his belt and jeans. "Now, Bennet, I'm going to get up and you're going to be a good boy and stay there." A friendly grin, and he added, "Or I'll take you down so fast it'll make your head spin. More than it is already."
He entertained the idea for all of a second, a flash of thought that he could throw himself into Thompson and knock him into the wall, maybe stun him for long enough that he'd be able to run and make it to Claude's room or find his gun. Until he saw the look in Thompson's eyes as the man stripped off his jeans and boxer briefs, until he recognized it for what it was: hope that he would make a break for it. Suddenly the shiver of fear was back, and he remembered what Thompson had said about the thrill of the chase... If he ran, would he be putting Claude in danger, too? Would he be putting Sandra in danger?
By the time those thoughts made it through the haze in his mind, Thompson stood naked and hard in front of him, one hand lazily stroking his own cock. "Will he go for it or not?" Thompson asked, his tone amused as he watched the warring emotions in his face. "I'm kinda disappointed, Bennet -- I thought you'd picked that up from your partner, that stubborn, stupid streak..."
This time, he managed to keep up the hateful glare longer, until Thompson stepped closer and yanked his jeans and underwear off in one startlingly effective move. "You can't do this!" he protested, one last plea before he ran out of time.
"Yeah, actually, I can. I'm your boss -- who are you gonna go complain to, hmn?" And then Thompson was back on the bed, pinning him down, strong grip dragging his hands above his head so that one hand could pin both wrists while the other slid down to grip his hip hard enough to bruise.
He struggled against the hand pinning him until reality spun out of focus and made his stomach lurch. By the time he'd regained some semblance of equilibrium, Thompson had his hand wrapped tightly around both of their cocks and pleasure shuddered through him. "No..."
Thompson gave him a knowing smirk and rubbed the pad of his thumb insistently over the head of his cock. "Like it a little rough, do ya?" Thompson asked as his cock twitched and he cried out. "That's a good thing to know..."
"No!" he gasped, trying desperately to deny the things his body proclaimed were true. "Damn you, let me go!" But he was panting now, precum slicking the head of his cock as he splayed his legs wide and thrust up into Thompson's grip.
Thompson grinned and gave his cock another stroke, then let him go to lean over. His reprieve was brief, though; Thompson straightened again with a triumphant look and a handful of condom packets, and he knew he'd run out of time. "No!" he gasped, trying to unseat the man again and then falling back to the bed as everything lurched to one side. "You son of a bitch, I'm going to kill you," he ground out between clenched teeth, and Thompson laughed.
"You're welcome to try," the man purred with a shrug, moving to kneel between his legs. Then lube-slicked fingers rubbed between his cheeks and over his hole, insistently teasing before beginning to press in as his muscles twitched and then clenched around the invaders.
He moaned and arched as Thompson's other hand returned to his cock; bit his lip and shook his head at his traitorous body's response. "No..." he breathed as Thompson pressed deeper; didn't remember bending his legs or bucking into the strokes, but he was moaning and panting now, his body begging for more even as he tried to deny it. "Don't-- stop! Oh fuck... get your fucking hands off me!"
Thompson laughed again and purred, "You should see your hole right now, Bennet, clutching at me like this. You don't want me to stop, you want more. You want as much as you can take, and then some!" Then Thompson pressed deeper and crooked his fingers, and he cried out as pleasure exploded behind his eyes.
"Fuck!" he hissed, bucking up into Thompson's strokes, spreading his legs wide and bending one leg to open himself further.
"Soon. Don't be impatient," Thompson said with a smirk, pressing deep again and giving a quiet chuckle as he cried out.
He gasped as Thompson leaned in and kissed him again, all tongue and teeth and overwhelming heat as he whimpered and writhed. His entire body was trembling with need and hunger, mind reeling under the sensations burning through him and the haze of the drug. But he let out a whimper when Thompson pulled back and slipped his fingers from him, the dwindling rational part of his mind trying to figure out just when he'd added a third.
And then the man smiled darkly down at him and rolled a condom onto his cock; shoved his legs up towards his chest. That look in Thompson's eyes was back, and fear rushed through him as he felt the blunt head of that hard cock pressing against his hole. "You know, Bennet," Thompson said almost conversationally, "it's really a pity Claude's not going to be your first..."
He growled and tried to take a swing at Thompson, found himself caught and pinned again as hands gripped his wrists hard enough to make the bones grind together. He grunted with pain, the grunt turning into a harsh cry as Thompson shoved in and his entire body tried to clench. Cold pain shuddered through him as muscles cramped and he whimpered through gritted teeth.
"Easy, Bennet," Thompson purred, and one hand released his wrists to stroke down his chest, pausing to tease a nipple before sliding down further to wrap around his wilting cock. "Relax, and I promise the pain will fade..." And that hand kept stroking, thumb teasing over the head and rubbing into the slit until he started getting hard again, not realizing that Thompson had pulled out and pressed slowly back in until that shudder of pleasure rippled through him again and his eyes went wide. "Oh yeah, there you go..."
He moaned loudly, then, arching up into Thompson's thrusts and panting hotly; all control shattered by what the man was doing to him, by the pleasure blazing through his body. Slow, deep thrusts filled him, Thompson rolling his hips every time he pressed in so that the head of his cock rubbed right over that spot that made him helpless. He tried to fight it, but he knew he was lost, now, his body demanding more, harder, please! And Thompson was only too willing to give him exactly what he was asking for, whether he truly wanted it or not.
"That's good, Bennet -- you're a natural," Thompson purred, shifting positions so that every stroke battered against that sweet spot and left him mewling in helpless shuddering pleasure. "Yeah," thrust, "right," thrust, "there!" and Thompson smiled down at him darkly, started jacking his cock harder with a little extra twist on every stroke that almost hurt.
"Oh! Oh! Ohfuck!" he cried out, and Thompson clapped his free hand over his mouth with a warning glare.
"Damn, you're a noisy one. Remind me to bring a gag next time," Thompson purred.
His eyes snapped open and he stared at Thompson in horror, realizing what he was saying at the same time as his body responded to the thought with a surge of pleasure he couldn't hold in. With a muffled cry, he bucked up into Thompson's brutal strokes and came hard, muscles clenching on the cock deep inside him as he spurted hot and thick over the man's hand. A moment later Thompson thrust deep one more time, rolled his hips into him again and groaned loudly as he came. "Ohhfuckyeah..."
He was pretty sure he'd passed out, because he didn't really remember Thompson pulling out or disposing of the used condom, and the next time he opened his eyes the room was spinning and Thompson was looking down at him with that same damned predatory grin. "So, Bennet, feel up to round two yet?"
* * *
He lay breathless and exhausted, sprawled across the lumpy mattress as Thompson picked up the phone and dialed a number without even looking at the buttons. He couldn't focus enough to tell what the man was saying, and the ache in his ass was the only thing that kept him from drifting off into full sleep.
He was sure some time had passed when Thompson shook him awake and he found himself lying in the bed, head half buried under the pillow. "Hey, Bennet, how d'you feel?"
"Like I'm going to kill you as soon as I can make my hands work," he answered quietly, squinting up at him and finding himself half-blinded by the cheap motel lighting.
"Yeah, well, probably not. You see, I've called someone to deal with that little loose end." A flash of that fake friendly grin, then, "Amazing kid, he's got just about the coolest ability around. Too bad you're not actually going to remember you met him, either..."
Something about that tone sent a shock of adrenaline through him, pushing the drugged haze back just enough that he could focus. Just enough that he remembered what Thompson had done to him. Everything Thompson had done to him -- until a lanky black teen stepped up next to the bed and reached out to touch his forehead...
* * *
"Ya look like crap, Pup," Claude said at breakfast, shooting a withering glare at Thompson before pouring a cup of coffee and pushing it over next to Bennet's hand. "Told ya not to drink so much."
"Yeah, he kinda overdid it," Thompson said with a smirk, eyes sweeping over Bennet's ragged appearance and not missing the suspicion in Claude's gaze. "Don't worry, Bennet, we'll get you home and you can rest up. Be right as rain for the next hunt..."
Bennet picked up the cup of coffee and clung to it with both hands, trying to will his roiling stomach and aching head to just give him a break and kill him already. "Yeah, sounds great," he said softly, wincing as his head throbbed despite his caution. "Can hardly wait."
"Me either," Thompson said, grinning. "Me either."
~~end~~