Fake Fan Fiction ❯ Captive ❯ Chapter 1

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
This is basically a PWP, which I was encouraged to write by the talented Xeriah. Amazing what a couple hours roaming through Aestheticism's site will do for the muse! <EG> Anyways, the FAKE characters belong to Sanami Matoh; I'm just borrowing them for my own nefarious purposes and will put them back when I'm done, a little bruised and somewhat the worse for wear but more or less intact. <EG>

This is dedicated to Xeriah, whose cajoling and prodding will eventually get me to finish up the LOOONG list of fics languishing on my hard drive...LOL.




Captive



Ryo was in trouble.

He'd lain down for a short nap and had awoken to find himself in this predicament. A dark blindfold--the slick softness of silk, the detective in him registered--was drawn securely across his eyes, with not even the smallest wisp of hair caught in it, as if his captor had taken special pains to be sure of that. He could almost feel the light brush of fingertips across his forehead as his captor solictiously stroked the hair back from his eyes, could almost feel the touch of lips to his forehead in benediction before the blindfold was pulled across his eyes.

There was a leather collar around his neck, a little stiff but not too tight, and attached to nothing, as a frantic jerk of head proved. Leather cuffs around his wrists and his ankles, a short chain between them to link them together; his legs were folded back at the knees and shoulders pulled back, his body drawn into a taut bow just this side of uncomfortable. If he wasn't as limber as he was, from years of exercising and martial arts, then he would have been in pain from the positioning of his body.

Frightening that this had been done to him and he hadn't roused during the process. It brought back to mind the strange little aftertaste of the ice tea that he'd drunk, before weariness had settled over him and he'd gone to take his nap. He'd been tired before that--it had been a long stressful week--and seconds after he'd laid head on the pillow he'd fallen asleep.

Deeply asleep. Deep enough to not register the removal of the scant clothing he'd worn to bed--boxers and a T-shirt--and not feel the hands rearranging his body, binding him. The bonds themselves tight enough so that he wouldn't be able to wriggle his way out of them but not really tight enough to hurt. Another considerate touch of his captor...

He lay there on his side and tried to breathe slowly, tried to calm a heart that was thundering in his chest. Hard to hear over the pounding pulse whether or not there was someone in the bedroom here with him. For it *was* his bedroom, he was sure of that; he knew the feel of the bed that had been his parents' bed, how a shift here would bring a light squeak of springs, and he knew the smell of it as well, the light floral scent of the fabric softener he used. He'd tried to rub against the sheets, to get the blindfold off at least, but it had been expertly tied and showed no signs of loosening.

He lay there...and he fancied he could feel the heat of eyes as they ran over his exposed body. Eyes that traced lovingly over the tautly drawn muscles, that skimmed over exposed groin and the limp shaft that lay nestled in a thin patch of golden brown hair, that no amount of restless shifting could hide. And he could not curl in to protect himself against those imagined eyes, he was exposed to the hungry gaze, bared for the covetuous touch of hands.

Ryo couldn't suppress a whimper, turning his face into the sheet. And jerked as he felt a hand on his hip, his eyes widening under the constricting blindfold, a startled cry rising to his lips only to be bitten back. The hand was fever hot against skin turned clammy with fear and the fingers splayed out to dig into the spare flesh of his hip when he tried to twitch away from it, moaning deep in his throat.

"Be still," ordered a rough, low voice. Spoken directly into his ear and again he bit his lip to prevent a startled cry. He jerked as the tip of a tongue ran along his earlobe and tried to twist away but the weight of a body pressed down on him, holding him in place against the mattress. The hand stroked along his hip, with a firm, possessive touch, and he shivered as the fingers wandered to the round curve of buttock, gently kneading it as tongue thrust into the shell of his ear, worming its way into the small canal and jabbing insistently into it, a precursor to what this man would do to him...

All too obvious that it *was* a man over him, the evidence of it a hard, throbbing pressure against his thigh. An erection that he rubbed slowly, tauntingly against Ryo's bare thigh, letting him feel the weight of it, the heat of it that seemed to burn through the denim rough against soft skin. Pressing himself down into the mattress didn't help either; it only encouraged the man to lower his weight all the more onto Ryo, an amused chuckle sounding in Ryo's ear.

There was a sudden splash of something cold and wet on the bare skin of his chest and this time Ryo did cry out from the surprise of it and the discomfort of the chilled liquid flowing down chest and stomach, Ryo wriggling as it slid over the sensitive flesh between his legs. Another splash and this time right over that very part, that shrank even more under the liquid assault.

A finger ran across wet skin, stroked its tip across a nipple that tightened in reaction. The weight holding him down shifted, the hard pressure lifting from his thigh, but it was not reassuring at all, he had no idea what the man intended to do to him. Oh, he knew what the man would ultimately do to him, of course, and it turned throat dry and made heart hammer, shivers running through him. He would have to find some way to stop his attacker, he couldn't, he just couldn't...

A light flick of tongue over nipple and then mouth settled over it, pulling hard on it. Not hurting, no, that was the horrible thing of it, the pressure of mouth on that bud of flesh sending a shameful flicker of heat through him, that made limp shaft stir a little. Fingers whispered down his stomach, danced along the length of his cock and twirled a circle around the head of it before taking it firmly in hand and pulling it up. Teeth raked nipple, tongue giving it a parting caress, and then mouth was working its way slowly down his abdomen, tongue lapping at the now sticky trail of liquid and following it lower, lower still.

And then he was engulfed by the wet warmth of that mouth, lips and tongue and fingers coaxing reluctant flesh to life. As much as he tried not to respond, to pull back, he was trapped, his body turned traitor by its own base desires. The slide of mouth, the stroke of fingers, distracted him from what was happening behind him, the surge of sensation disguising the light stroke of finger across his opening.

It wasn't until he felt the finger flexing in him that he was aware he'd been penetrated. He tried to jerk away from the finger, the muscles in shoulders and legs singing a discordant protest, and succeeded in pushing himself deeper into the greedy mouth that sought to devour him. Teeth scraped across sensitive flesh and he moaned, cock twitching eagerly in the damp cavern as he tried to clench muscles against the invading finger, buttocks wriggling in the vain attempt to dispel the intruder.

Up the length of his cock mouth dragged, lips sliding along, tongue leaving a glistening trail of saliva, and then down it plunged again, taking him all the way in till he struck the back of throat. And each time it did that, the finger skewered into him, pressing determinedly past the ring of muscle, twisting in him, joined in the third pass by a second. The mouth that worked him so expertly seemed to suck out his breath as well with each pass, leaving him panting and light-headed, body trembling with the need to move, to thrust down throat and then drive back onto the spear of fingers.

Questing fingers found just the right spot to touch in him, wringing a cry out of him as heat surged through him. Tears spilled from his eyes even as he ground shamelessly against the fingers, body jerking with the pleasure that was a like a sharp jolt of electricity lighting nerves. He sobbed, too, twisting like a worm on a hook, caught between the contradictory impulses to retreat from the pleasure and to be consumed by it.

There was no real doubt as to the outcome. It swept through him, carrying him along with it, the hot rush of sensation sweeping over him and obscuring everything else in its path. It didn't care who did it, how it happened, it was as merciless as a tsunami, as relentless in its path of destruction. Drawing muscles into a tight knot, curling toes, as his vision blurred and ears roared with the force of it.

The first spurt of fluid was swallowed and the second jetted out, some of it even managing to strike his cheek. The weight over him shifted, moving behind him, and abruptly the chain that linked wrist cuffs to ankle cuffs was gone. Reflexively he sagged forward a little, to relieve the burning muscles in his shoulders; he was only vaguely aware of his legs being parted, consternation rousing in him only with the sudden blunt pressure of cock against opening.

Gasping, Ryo squirmed frantically and his attacker rolled him over onto his stomach, an arm going around his waist to pull him up so that buttocks offered a perfect target. Weight and sheer determination did the rest, sent the hard length of it deep into him, till he felt the grind of groin against buttocks. No finesse at all in it, just quick jabs into him, the arm around him to hold him in place, and, God help him, but each stab hit just the right spot, made his mouth open in a moan. It was sick and demeaning and he hated his body for responding to it, for rocking eagerly into each jolting thrust. Uselessly he twisted at bound wrists, trying to rouse some pain to distract him, to center him.

Thankfully it was done at last, the man over him giving one last surge, his mouth latching onto the nape of Ryo's neck to bite into it, marking him. He lay trembling beneath the other's weight, tears slipping out from underneath the blindfold to slide down his cheeks.

The weight lifted off him and the blindfold was torn free as he was shifted over onto his side, a hand stroking soothingly over his hip as the other stretched out beside him. Blinking to bring blurred vision into focus, Ryo managed to meet the cheshire smile of satisfaction on Dee's face with a weary glare. "I *told* you I didn't want to do that..." he said petulantly.

Dee's grin turned wicked, his fingers trailing down to touch Ryo's half hard cock. "I don't know, it seems like *part* of you liked it," he teased.

Ryo blushed furiously. There was *no* way that he was going to admit to Dee that he'd found it even remotely exciting, that it had been anything other than a body's natural reaction to stimuli. "Let me go!" he demanded, twitching away from Dee's touch.

Dee heaved a sigh and reached around Ryo to undo the cuffs, letting them fall onto the bed. "You are *no* fun!" he groused as he undid the ankle ones as well.

"Let's see how *you* feel about having them on!" returned Ryo as he rubbed at sore wrists, wincing as he sat up on the bed. With a last glower at Dee he took himself off to the bathroom to clean up.

Dee stretched out on the bed, tucking hands behind his head. Hmmm...that sounded like it might be fun, letting Ryo put the cuffs on him. And maybe that'd give Ryo's lackluster libido a little jumpstart, being in charge for a change.

Definitely sounded like a plan.

End