Motivation - H/F - Part 13

[indigo_angels]

Hannibal looked at his watch, 9.45am and felt more than a sliver of irritation run through him. What the fuck did Face think he was doing? There was no way he could still be out running now. He never ran for more than an hour, and if he had been waiting for everyone else to leave before venturing in for breakfast then the first session had started forty five minutes ago. Hannibal looked at his mobile and considered calling Tag. It seemed that his young lieutenant had had a change of mind, looks like they wouldn’t be visiting Tag today at all. Hannibal was furious.

 

___________________________

 

Dougie smiled a self satisfied smirk and reached out to rub his hand through Face’s hair, making sure he pressed hard on the bloody lump on the side of his head. The smile grew even wider as Face tried to jerk away, but was held in place by the handcuffs around his wrists holding him to the bed.

 

“Now, now lieutenant,” Dougie almost purred, “Did you think I would make the same mistakes with you twice? Got quite a temper on you there haven’t you? Maybe not quite the perfect soldier John thinks you are.”

 

Face just glared at him, his head was pounding so hard he was struggling to work out just how the hell he had ended up handcuffed face down on Dougie’s bed, and in no mood for some verbal sparring.  

 

“Was on my way over to see you this morning,” Dougie helpfully supplied, “Was wondering how I was going to get you out of John’s clutches; figured he’d have you wrapped up pretty tight.”

 

Face stared sullenly at him.

 

“But there you were, large as life, running down the road, all on your own,” that self satisfied grin was really getting on Face’s nerves now, “Didn’t know what hit you, did you? Literally. It was my gun by the way,” Dougie lifted the hand gun and stroked the barrel over the side of Face’s cheek, tracing it across his lips, pushing slightly for entry, the slightest hint of a threat there.

 

Face pulled away as far as he could, loathing obvious in his eyes, “You’d better just let me go,” he muttered, ignoring the stabbing pain his voice caused in his head, “Otherwise between me or the boss, you’re a dead man.”

 

Dougie laughed, “No. Sorry about that. You won’t be going anywhere, not until we have renegotiated the terms of our agreement.”

 

“No agreement,” Face spat, “You can fuck right off.”

 

“Oh, Templeton,” Face found the mock concern even more irritating, “you don't mean that. You really want poor John humiliated in that way? You know how honourable he is, he would die of shame being held up as an embarrassment to his precious Army like that.”

 

“You are forgetting,” Face ground out, “that you are in exactly the same boat as he is. You wouldn’t risk him just in case it back fired on you.”

 

“You, poor, poor naive boy,” Dougie stroked the gun down his face repeatedly, “You think I haven’t prepared for that eventuality? I have more stories and evidence prepared to back up my heterosexuality than you would ever believe. I doubt that John has had that much foresight. And he is not that cynical.” Dougie smiled happily, “Wouldn’t you agree?”

 

Face was silent; answer enough for Dougie.

 

“Okay, so back to the terms of our negotiation,” again the silence that fuelled Dougie’s satisfaction, “You will not tell anyone what happened back at the hotel the other night. I know you have kept quiet so far, clever boy, you just need to keep that up, alright?” Face stared murderously at him, “And, as agreed before, you are mine. You do whatever I want, whenever I want you to, starting with the transfer to my unit. And the second you put just one tiny toe out of line, life will come crashing down around John’s ears so fast he won’t have a clue what hit him. Do we have a deal?”

 

Face’s eyes narrowed, “Fuck you,” he muttered.

 

 “Oh, no,” again the false concern, “That’s never going to happen. You must have misunderstood.” Dougie put the gun down and reached into his pocket withdrawing a knife instead, flicking it open and loving the way that Face’s eyes widened automatically as the morning sun hit the blade, “I am going to fuck you,” he whispered, “Any minute now in fact. Make up for the way you spoilt my fun the other night, and don’t expect me to be gentle, you don’t deserve anything like that now.” His cold, empty eyes bored right into Face’s, “And if you cause me any trouble, then this,” he trailed the knife down Face’s forehead, over his nose and let the blade rest against his bottom lip, “Will open the way for me,” Face felt a cold sweat break out across his back. “Do you understand?” Face couldn’t nod, he could risk a move of any kind with that knife so close to his skin, but Dougie saw the fear in his eyes and smiled. He understood.

 

____________________

 

Hannibal stormed into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him and threw his newspaper down on the bed. How could Face do this to him? After last night as well, last night that had been so intense, so emotional; more than anything that Hannibal had ever experienced in his whole life. But it had all been a lie, the kid had played him.

 

He was leaving; Face could sort out his own messes from now on.

 

____________________

 

Face pushed his head down into the pillow and tried to just tune out what was going on around him. He was totally immobile, both wrists and ankles shackled to the bedposts, face down, no secret what Dougie had planned for him here at all. Dougie was busy, humming cheerily as he moved around the bedroom and Face had no desire at all to see what he was doing, but unfortunately, Dougie himself had other ideas.

 

“Okay, lieutenant,” his voice was brisk, businesslike, “Let’s have that pillow out of your way,” the pillow was dragged from underneath him and his last refuge disappeared with it, “and then if you turn your head this way, you can see what I have set up for you.”

 

Face kept his eyes stubbornly closed, until he felt the point of the knife just under his chin and he reluctantly forced them open to find himself looking right into Dougie’s smirking face, “Oh, good boy,” he whispered, stroking Face’s hair, “You are learning well. I think this will work out just fine.”

 

Feeling his skin crawl and his stomach sink, Face just stared balefully back.

 

“Okay,” Dougie was sickeningly cheerful, “I thought it might be good to keep a record of this momentous occasion,” he leered at Face, “It’s not every day I get to pop someone’s cherry after all.”

 

Images of last night and Hannibal swam into Face’s mind filling him with equal parts love and despair. Well, at least he’d had that. That one night to show him how his life could have been, before this had happened to him. It was always the way for him. He wondered, not for the first time, what he had done in a previous life that made the gods of fate hate him so much.

 

He tuned back into Dougie’s little speech and found him showing Face the video camera he had set up, and how he had moved the flat screen so that it filled Face’s line of vision. So that Face could watch the whole sickening show in glorious Technicolor.

 

“And I want you to watch,” Dougie whispered into his ear, “I want you to see that you belong to me, how complete my ownership is. Every second I want your eyes on that screen or you will pay for it later. Understand?” Face nodded, thoroughly miserable and an evil glint lit in Dougie’s eyes. “Maybe I’ll even let John see it one day,” shame flushed Face’s cheeks making Dougie smile, “Oh, yes that seems like a fucking great idea,” he grinned down at his captive and ran a hand over his own straining erection, “Well, I’m certainly ready for this, so let’s get to it.”   

 

Face let his eyes sink closed in desperation, but Dougie’s knife at his throat soon reminded him to open them up again, “Oh, no you don’t,” he hissed, “Remember our deal?”

 

“Some fucking deal,” Face spat and Dougie laughed.

 

“Okay, lieutenant, clothes off. Now how are we going to do this?”

 

Face smiled up at him, his own version of Dougie’s cold, shark smile, “Well, why don't you take these cuffs off and I can show you?” he whispered, letting just the tiniest hint of a leer show in his smile.

 

Dougie tipped his head clearly considering and Face tried not to let the hope he felt show in his features.

 

“Nah,” Dougie’s word was like a death sentence, “You think I don't know that you will just try to beat me to death the second you are free? Good try, Face, but no.” His own leer was back, “I have a better idea,” he grinned, holding up the knife once again.

 

Face forced himself to lie still as he felt the cold point of the blade against his skin and could hear the sound of the fibres in the material parting under the pressure of the steel. “You should be watching...” Dougie reminded him and Face hissed as he felt the blade break the skin over his hip. A reminder...

 

He opened his eyes and looked at the flat screen, seeing Dougie, head bent in concentration, cutting through the material of his running gear; deliberately stringing the whole operation out, erection obvious in his trousers, and a fierce determination suddenly flared up inside him. He was not going to let Dougie get away with this. Struggling would achieve nothing, there was no way these shackles were coming off without a key or the very least a lock pick, so if he struggled too hard he would just end up breaking his limbs...

 

But - if he was that badly hurt questions would be asked, Dougie would find it impossible to hide the evidence, Tag would have to look at the events of this morning very closely. Hannibal would know he didn’t give up without a fight. It wasn’t much of a plan, in fact it was totally horrific. But Face knew he could do it, and if it stopped Dougie from doing this to him again, he definitely would do it. It never even occurred to him that if he chose this path, then maybe Dougie would just get rid of all the evidence... 

 

Dougie couldn’t remember ever feeling this hard, this much anticipation to fuck someone. He supposed it was because it had been rumbling on all week, ever since he’d seen Face walk into that dinner with Hannibal in his full formal get up. Or maybe it was because it involved stealing the boy right from underneath his old friend’s nose, especially when it was so clear that Hannibal wanted him too. Or maybe it was just because Face was so damn desirable. Whatever the reason, his cock was a solid, heavy heat in his pants, pre-cum spreading a larger and larger damp patch in the front of his jeans.

 

He pulled off the last strip of Face’s mutilated running shorts and smiled in satisfaction at the red lines that crisscrossed his skin. He hadn’t cut the boy, not badly, anyway, but he’d made sure he’d pressed enough to leave a mark, it was all about control this game. Face had to understand just who was calling all the shots.

 

Moving to lift the edge of Face’s t-shirt from his back, Dougie noticed a shiver run up his spine and smiled. Good, the boy might be trying his best not to look it, but he was scared and that would make this all the more fun.

 

The t-shirt made a very satisfying sound as the tip of the knife slit it from hem to neck and then Dougie slashed twice from shoulder to elbow, drawing blood this time in his eagerness to get rid of this last barrier to his fun. He rested the knife down on the bed and leaned forward, taking hold of the two pieces of material and tugging hard, pulling everything away and leaving Face naked beneath him.

 

“Okay then, boy,” he whispered, sitting astride his thighs, fingers trailing the red lines and blood tracks in front of him, “Let me have a good look at what I own.” He leaned forward, following the line of vertebrae upwards and Face tried not to think of Hannibal’s fingers doing almost the same thing only last night. “Hmmm, beautiful, I think I will-” and he stopped, Face felt the tension in his body and then suddenly there was a finger in his neck, poking hard and Face’s stomach fell. He knew just what Dougie had seen.      

 

 “What,” he spat at Face, the fury totally obvious, “the fuck is that?”

 

Face didn’t answer, feeling Dougie’s finger jabbing into the spot on his neck where Hannibal had marked him last night.

 

Suddenly Dougie laughed, “What?” he asked, the bite clear in his words, “John finally stepped up to the mark did he?” Still Face stayed quiet, his eyes on the abandoned knife next to his ribs. If only he could get one hand free then he would stand a chance...

 

“Typical fucking, Smith!” he hissed. “Bet he told you all kinds of pretty little lies about how much he wanted you and how much he loved you, eh?” Despite himself, Face’s eyes flicked up to Dougie. “Yeah, I thought so. Well, I hope you didn’t waste any time believing any of that crap,” a tiny sliver of doubt wriggled into Face’s heart, “He’s not interested in you, boy, not really. He only fucked you to get back at me!” If Dougie had looked cold and angry before, that was nothing to how he looked now, “He knew I wanted you, wanted to be the one who took you for the first time and that’s the only reason he even bothered with you, to get back at me for finishing with him all those years ago!” Dougie pinched Hannibal’s mark between his fingers, squeezing so tightly that Face had to bite his lip to stop from crying out in pain.

 

“No, he doesn’t really want you,” Dougie spat in his ear, “Told me you were a pain in the ass, that he wanted a return on his investment and then I could have you for myself. That’s how much he wants you!”

 

Face’s brain told him this was all lies, that Hannibal would never say that about him, and that yes, Hannibal really did want him. But his heart... well, that was another thing altogether. It wouldn’t be the first time that people Face thought loved him had let him down, not the first time at all, and so easy to believe.

 

Dougie noticed the stoop to his shoulders and triumph flared within him. This was it, he really had Face now, once he believed that Hannibal had used him, all his fight would go and he would be Dougie’s play thing for as long as he wanted him. Perfect.

 

Time to act while the moment was right, he slid down the bed and popped the button on his jeans, stopping as a movement on the deck caught his eye. He looked up just in time to see the tail of a racoon as it slid out of sight and turned back to the task at hand, slowly sliding his zip down, making it as loud as he possibly could, knowing that Face could hear it, knowing from the tense set of his shoulders that he knew what was coming now. But before he could finish his act for Face there was a loud crash from the kitchen area. Dougie stopped and thought of the racoon on the deck, “Fucking vermin,” he muttered, remembering that the window in the kitchen was open and knowing that if he didn’t clear the thing out, it would wreck his entire house in minutes.

 

He snatched the knife off the bed and stalked out, anger and the raging hard on in his pants making him careless. He swung around the corner into the kitchen, prepared to skin the damn thing alive if he needed to and instead walked straight into a left hook right into his jaw.

 

Dougie staggered sideways, his training making sure that the knife was up and ready even before his eyes had focussed on his attacker. Unfortunately for him, the attacker had seen the knife as well, and a sharp kick to his wrist sent it spinning across the floor. Dougie dived after it, but a booted leg swung around and sent him sprawling and before he knew where he was, Hannibal was leaning over him, murder in his eyes.

 

He grabbed a handful of shirt and pulled him into a sitting position, enjoying the blood leaking from the corner of his mouth, “You fucking bastard,” he spat, face colder than Dougie had ever seen it, “I told you to leave him the fuck alone!”

 

Dougie opened his mouth for a quick retort, but Hannibal was faster, backhanding him brutally about the face, enjoying the way his head snapped back and then came up with blood seeping from his nose as well.

 

“No excuses!” he snarled, “You were warned off him and twice, twice! you’ve decided to just help yourself!” Hannibal threw him back to the floor, “Well, the last time the kid kicked your butt himself, now it’s my turn!”

 

“Hannibal! I...!” Dougie stuttered as he was hauled to his feet, but before he had even half a chance to finish his sentence, Hannibal’s fist was in his stomach, driving all the air out of his lungs and bending him over. A knee to his face broke his nose and while he was staggering into the cupboard doors desperately trying to keep to his feet Hannibal swung a boot up into the remains of his erection, making him cry out in agony and collapse into a ball on the floor. For a second he lay there, moaning piteously, but then Hannibal was back, again dragging him up by the shirt but this time rabbit punching him, once, twice, three times, before he went limp in his grip and Hannibal threw him, disgustedly to the floor.

 

He took just a second to catch his breath and shake out his cramped fist before he turned and ran for the bedroom.

 

Face had heard the crash and the subsequent struggle but had no idea what was really going on. He had decided though, that this posed the best chance he had had so far for escape and so set about trying to manoeuvre his wrists out of the cuffs. Then he heard footsteps in the hallway, and with panic starting to set in, writhed desperately against the metal, feeling it biting into his skin, setting warm blood free to run down his arms and legs.

 

Then there was a hand in his hair and he froze, waiting for Dougie’s voice, waiting for the knife against his throat, waiting for the rape to start in earnest, but instead he heard a familiar voice, “Oh, god, Face, baby, come here, come here...”  and suddenly Hannibal dropped into sight in front of him, his eyes desperate with concern. Warm arms slid around his shoulders and Face pushed himself as much into Hannibal as he could, smelling that familiar aftershave and outdoors smell that just defined the boss, and starting to shake as he realised that he was finally safe.

 

Hannibal held him tight for a second and then pulled back, frantic eyes skimming over his boy, assessing his injuries and narrowing in fury at the cuffs and the damage they had done. Hannibal reached for the nearest cuff and fiddled with the lock, making Face hiss in pain as the metal bit into him again. “Sorry, sorry...” Hannibal muttered as he examined the lock once more, “Fuck!” He eventually spat before looking back at Face, one hand resting on his cheek, eyes filled with anxiety, “Where’s the key, Face?” he whispered, “That motherfucker got it?”

 

Face shook his head and forced his voice to be steady, “I dunno, boss,” he’d done a reasonable job, “I was out cold when he locked me up.”

 

Hannibal’s eyes narrowed further in hatred and he grabbed a pillow off the floor, putting it over Face’s head and arm and whispering, “Trust me and lie still!” before pressing it down, effectively cutting off the kid’s air.

 

Holding his breath and fighting back the urge to panic, Face did as he was told. Then a gunshot exploded almost on top of him and he jumped in horror, imagining Dougie standing in the doorway behind them, gun smoking while Hannibal fell to the floor...

 

But the pressure on his head was still there, and then came another gunshot but this time Face felt his wrist blasted sideways with the force and realised that the boss was shooting through the chains of the cuffs. The pillow disappeared and Hannibal spun around, pushing it over Face’s foot instead and another shot tore through Face’s shredded nerves, then another and finally he was free. 

 

Throwing the pillow to one side, Hannibal gathered him up in his shaking arms, holding him so tightly against his chest that Face could hardly breathe but Face clung back, grounding himself in that feeling, that smell, the voice that was repeating, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over again. Then all too soon he was being pushed away, Hannibal’s hands on his checks, his blue eyes, dulled with distress, boring into him.

 

“Kid,” he whispered, the tremor in his voice clearly noticeable, “I need you to get some clothes on and go and wait in the car for me. Can you do that? Can you walk?”

 

Face shook his head, “No, boss, of course I can walk, but I’m not going anywhere without you!”

 

“No,” Hannibal muttered, grabbing a t-shirt from the drawer next to the bed and pulling it over Face’s head, “I need you out of here, kid. I’ve knocked the bastard out, but I’m not having him in the same house as you ever again. Ever,” the fury was back, “So come on,” he yanked a pair of jogging bottoms from the drawer as well, and carefully fed them over the blood smeared shackles that still remained on Face’s ankles, “Once you are safe in the car I will phone Tag, tell him to get his arse over here and collect this trash and then I’ll find the fucking keys for these things.”

 

“It’s just...” Face knew his voice sounded small, pathetic, and he hated himself for it, “It’s just I don't want to be on my own right now...”

 

Suddenly, Hannibal’s lips were on his, soft and warm and comforting, but gone far too quickly. “I know kid,” he whispered, stroking the soft hair, keeping right away from the purpling lump, “And as soon as Tag gets here I swear, I won’t leave you for one second, I shouldn’t have let you go for a run without me...” Face’s head drooped in shame. “Oh, no Face, don’t, just don’t.” Hannibal was stroking his cheek, kissing his forehead, “Just please, please, go and wait in the car and we will talk about all this later, you’ve done nothing wrong, nothing wrong at all, but please, I’m begging you, wait outside for me.”

 

Face was suddenly exhausted and did actually want nothing more than to be as far away from Dougie as humanly possible. “Okay,” he whispered and let Hannibal push his feet into his trainers before helping him stand and taking him to the door to the decking.

 

“Go sit in the car,” Hannibal instructed him, dropping a brief kiss to his lips, “I’ll be out as soon as I can okay?”

 

Face nodded and slipped through the doors, making his way along the path at the side of the house and towards the car port at the front. He rounded the corner, hoping Hannibal would be quick and instantly fell to the ground unconscious as the head of a garden spade swung around the corner and connected with his forehead with a solid thump.

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Comments

[indigo-angels.livejournal.com]

Only just spotted this comment! Sorry...

But yes, again! That Dougie is a resilient guy, yes? :)