Wasteland
by Becca Abbott
Part 16
Iason woke with a cry, shocked from sleep by the pain that ripped through him. He tried to sit up, only to find himself shoved back into the bed, hands tearing at his clothes. Panicked, he fought back, fist connecting with someone's jaw. The controller struck again. His attempt to push away, to roll off the bed and somehow face his attackers, came to nothing as short-circuited nerves failed him.
"W-what – what do you want?" His words were slurred. They had his hands, dragging them up over his head, tying them with ropes to the bedframe. There was a ripping sound and his shirt came away. When they wrenched off his pants, he knew what they wanted.
Another shock from the controller, then another rendered him helpless. His muscles were racked by uncontrollable spasms. He could do nothing to resist as they bent his knees and bound his calves to his thighs. Then, finally, panting and muttering among themselves, they backed away from the bed. He stared after them.
"Have fun, freak," Minton rasped. There was malicious laughter. Then they filed out, closing the door behind them, leaving a single man. It took a moment for Iason's vision to clear, to see who it was.
"Riki." His heart leapt in joy.
The mongrel stood with his back to the door. He looked healthy and unharmed. In one hand he held a wand.
"Riki?"
"Hello, Iason."
Apprehension crawled up Iason's spine hearing the coldness in that familiar voice. Why didn't Riki turn on the light? What was he doing here? Why was Iason bound like this? He waited. Riki pushed away from the door, making his way through the gloom to the bed.
"Are you all right?" the Blondie asked. "Did they hurt you?"
He heard Riki laugh, low and bitter. The mongrel leaned over the bed and stroked a hand slowly down Iason's naked chest to his belly.
"They've been real nice to me," replied Riki softly. "Nicer than you were when you first took me."
Iason heard that with a queer turning of his stomach. What had they done to Riki? What had they said to him? "Riki?"
The mongrel hit him, knocking his head aside. Iason hissed. Riki's hand continued its familiar roving over his skin. Those slender fingers brushed his nipples and they hardened at once. "Riki..."
"They told me Juno offered you a choice – cooperation or my life."
Iason went very still. "Riki..."
"What will you choose, Iason?"
"Riki – I – I would never do anything to hurt you."
There was a long silence. That hand continued its wandering, moving down. Instinctively, Iason put his trussed legs together. Riki pushed them back. The Blondie closed his eyes, drawing in a sharp breath when Riki's hand closed around his penis.
"I always wondered what it would be like to see you like this, to use you the way you've used me."
Iason swallowed on a tightening throat and said nothing. Riki's hand lifted away and, in spite of himself, Iason's hips lifted after it. In the room's half light, the Blondie saw that beautiful, sensual mouth twist.
"Do you know what this is?"
Iason stared at the wand and figured he could guess. "I never did such things to you," he whispered.
"No – you could afford to take your time, couldn't you? You spent three years breaking me into little pieces that you could put back together into a shape more to your liking." Riki's voice rose.
"That's not tr — AH!"
The wand lit delicately on one nipple and pain roared through Iason. It touched the other; a second jolt of pure agony ripped a cry from him. He lay trembling, sweat beading on his skin. In the room's dim light, Riki was smiling.
"What did they do to you? This isn't like you. RIKI!" Desperately, Iason twisted against the ropes that held his wrists fast to the bed frame.
"Are you going to beg me to stop?" Riki's voice was idle, as if the matter was of only academic interest. The Blondie blinked tears from his eyes and tried to calm his racing pulse. "I begged you to stop. I pleaded. You didn't care."
"I always cared."
Riki swore. Iason made a small sound, fingers tightening convulsively on the ropes as the wand touched down on his breastbone. "Please," he began, but the next wave of pain turned the word into a scream as a line of fire traced down to his belly.
"Spread your legs."
Iason couldn't speak. He shook his head and this time, the pain lifted him off the mattress, bowing his body so violently he thought dimly his spine might snap.
"Spread them..."
An echo came down the years, his own voice, implacable, saying those same words to the frightened boy who lay, weeping, on a bed before him. Iason let his knees fall open and closed his eyes. He heard a sharp intake of breath. The fine tip of the wand rested on the head of his cock. He could barely draw breath. His nipples pulsed steadily, aching, hard as pebbles.
Riki stroked the tip of the wand down Iason's half-erect penis to nestle it in his testicles. Every muscle in the Blondie's trembling body seized. He tried to wet his lips, but his mouth was too dry. The pain, when it came, was everything he'd feared and he couldn't even scream, only make a queer, choking sound. Consciousness dimmed.
"What do you think?" sneered Riki, voice hollow through the roaring in Iason's ears. "Think I could train you to be my bitch?"
Iason tried to speak, but nothing came out. Riki bent nearer. "I can't hear you."
"I – is that what you wanted?" Iason gasped. "Is that what would have pleased you?"
There was no answer. Riki's face was inches from his. Iason stared up into those large, liquid eyes, that mouth he had tasted so many times. "I would have done it," he said. "If that's what you wanted, I would have given it to you. I would have given you anything..."
"Except my freedom," hissed Riki.
"I love you..."
"Shut up!"
This time, the pain went on and on, and when it finally ended, Iason lay still and exhausted by it. He tried again to curl up, an instinctive attempt at self defense. Riki snarled and straightened him, holding his thighs apart. Tears slid, unheeded from the corners of Iason's eyes.
"You don't love me! I'm just a goddamned possession!"
"No," Iason whispered, even knowing his denial would bring more punishment. "Never."
The wand was on the move again, moving lower, down between his legs. He tried to twist his body away and Riki's hand came down, pushing his hips hard against the bed, holding him still. When the tip of the fiendish instrument reached his anus, Iason began to shake. Back and forth along his cleft Riki stroked it, the touch almost gentle.
"Take it, Iason, if you love me so much," came the soft bitter words above him. "TAKE IT!"
Riki's hand closed over Iason's abused penis again. The warmth of it eased the pain and Iason made a small, helpless sound. He drew a shaking breath, and opened his legs all the way. There was a hiss from Riki.
The wand slid deep into Iason. He felt it moving inside him, prodding, seeking. When it touched his prostate, he tried to keep the gasp back and failed. This time, when the pain hit him, the universe broke apart and he was certain he would die.
When he came to, the room still echoed with his screams. The wand was removed and Riki straddled him, hand in Iason's long hair, pulling his head up. Riki's mouth covered his, crushing Iason's bitten lips, plundering him.
Iason knew he was crying; he could taste his own tears amidst Riki's familiar sweetness. He had never wept before. The wrenching grief was almost worse than the torment of the wand. Had he truly hurt Riki so deeply that the mongrel would find satisfaction in this?
Riki's mouth left his, traveling up Iason's jaw to suck at the soft flesh under his ear. Cruel fingers plucked at Iason's sore nipples, then, sitting back, Riki opened his pants. In the room's half-light, his cock gleamed darkly, rigid, ready. Iason closed his eyes and let despair wash over him. He felt Riki's hands on him, pushing up his hips, that large, beautiful cock pushing at his hole. He made no attempt to resist. When Riki took him, he turned his head into his up-stretched arm and shifted his body, giving Riki better access. With a curse, the mongrel thrust into him, burying himself to the hilt. Iason made no sound beyond a soft grunt of pain.
The force of the mongrel's lust and anger shook him to the core. He was aware, dimly, that Riki was tearing him, but he no longer cared. He lay while Riki used him and tried to feel nothing.
With a loud groan, Riki spent himself and fell forward along Iason's body. His head dropped limply onto the mattress beside Iason's, filling the Blondie's lacerated senses with the smell, sound and feel of him. Iason opened his eyes, staring blindly through his tears at the dark ceiling. Then he felt Riki's mouth against his ear.
"I'm sorry," he heard. "They're watching on the surveillance camera. I'm sorry, Iason. I'm so sorry. I love you."
Riki's hands slid up Iason's bound arms. For a second, the dazed Blondie felt something cold and sharp against his wrists. Then the ropes were gone.
"Don't move your hands," continued Riki, anxiety creeping into the whisper. "They'll be coming soon to get me and they'll leave the video monitors. We'll have a few minutes unobserved. Can you move?"
"Riki," Iason breathed.
Riki slid down his body. Iason somehow had the presence of mind to keep his hands above his head. Surprise and hope held him utterly still.
I'm so sorry. I love you.
Another quick slice and the ropes around his thighs fell away. Riki's hands, gentle now for all their urgency, turned him over.
"This will hurt again. I'm sorry."
Iason blinked, not certain what Riki was doing at first. The wand! Riki set it against the clasp of Iason's collar. There was a moment's blinding, gut-liquefying pain, and the collar clicked open.
Riki's hands were trembling as he pulled Iason up. Tears traced silver threads down his cheeks, but his expression was one of grim determination. "They'll be coming to get me any minute. Oh, god, Iason. They said the wand wouldn't damage you!"
"I'm all right." Astonishment was receding, strength rushing back. Iason straightened, looking for his clothes. Riki scrambled to retrieve them, helping Iason dress, fumbling in his haste.
Iason's mind snapped into cold, efficient calculation. Riki was still his. Now they had to escape. The wand had probably short-circuited with the collar, which meant they had no weapon.
"Here." Riki pushed something at him. It was a razor blade, perhaps six inches long, one edge sealed with tape. He laughed then, sweeping his lover up and holding him in a fierce, hard embrace. The purely physiological response Riki had forced from his body suddenly became real arousal.
"I'm sorry," Riki said again, words muffled against Iason's chest.
"We'll discuss that later," Iason laughed softly, mouth against the mongrel's dark hair. Outside, he heard footsteps approaching, quickly but without the haste of alarm. Releasing Riki, he stepped to the side of the door. Riki took the wand and stood in front of it.
It opened, throwing light in a long swatch across the floor. Minton was there, two men behind him. The man's grin faded as his eyes moved past Riki and saw the empty bed. Riki gave him no time to process the information, however, but threw himself forward, lashing out with the wand. Minton fell back with a startled squawk, while behind Riki, Iason erupted from the room like some avenging angel. He leapt at the two other soldiers, the razor flying in wide, swift arcs. Blood sprayed, crimson, across the corridor. Minton regained his balance, fumbling for his gun, eyes wide and shocked. Without pausing in his graceful, deadly dance, Iason threw Riki aside. For just a second, they faced each other, Terran and Blondie, then Minton had his gun out of its holster.
Too late. Iason's arm swung. The scarlet fountain of the man's life bathed him sticky warmth. He licked it off his lips, conscious of a profound, primitive satisfaction as Minton toppled, his neck half-severed.
Riki was already snatching guns off the corpses. He threw one to Iason, who caught it deftly.
"The best way out," Riki said, "is that way."
"I love you," said Iason.
Riki smiled then, brilliantly. "I know," he said. "Let's get the hell out of here."