Another Blake/Jayden story, this one significantly longer than the last. Before we get started, let me give my little anti-douchebag blurb: If you are a homophobe, a loser who can't write without the use of a Mary Sue, or any other breed of retarded, please leave before you view words in sentences that will make you spam my inbox with bullshit sporting your negative IQ. For everyone else, please enjoy! (Warning: Rape.)
Coercion
Blake's grip was as rough as his voice, as his attitude. As bruising as his condescending insults.
He was as ruthless and unforgiving as ever; whether he was on the job or off the clock, his impulsive use of brutality was his defining characteristic.
...Thought Norman as he struggled in Blake's grasp, twisting futilely and swearing without restraint.
[-]
"You're a fucking asshole," Norman had muttered on the way back to the station after Blake had given the order to track down Ethan Mars.
"You can't get a job done in this field by being a fucking pacifist," Blake had retorted.
"You can't beat an answer out of everyone you question, either," Norman snapped. "Do you think that every problem can be solved using fists and bullets?"
Blake glared at him.
Later they had detained Ethan Mars, gone through the grueling interrogation process. Blake, again, had resorted to violence. Norman had tried to defend Mars, had gotten physical with Blake, and, against his better judgment, he repeated the action of incurring Blake's wrath. His fist connected, he was held at gunpoint, Blake ordered him out of the room, and Norman, unable to stand up to Blake any longer, exited the room with a tantrum-like show of frustration.
Perry didn't care. No one questioned Lieutenant Blake.
Norman released Ethan Mars.
He left to confront Mad Jack.
He returned to the station, intending to make brief preparations before seeking the final puzzle pieces at the Blue Lagoon.
Blake had put two and two together.
[-]
He had caught him about to leave the station, snatched his arm and guided him roughly to the back of the station.
"Come with me, Jayden," Blake had growled, dragging him across the station and shoving him into the interrogation room.
"Oh my, people are gonna talk, Blake," Norman said sardonically, regaining his footing and crossing his arms.
Blake shut the door and swiftly approached him, grabbing him around the throat and pushing him into the wall, restraining him with the thoughtless hold around his windpipe.
Blake's grip was as rough as his personality.
Sixty seconds of Blake shouting in his face—I know you're the one who let Mars go, you fuck!—and Norman defending, evading—You have no fucking proof of that!—his back slamming into the wall each time Blake shook him.
He was thrown to the floor.
"We're in the interrogation room—maybe I can get you to confess," Blake said wryly, though his voice was dry of humor. He aimed to kick Norman's side, but Norman caught his foot, pushing himself up and bracing himself against the table.
"I already told you, Blake, you can't solve every fucking problem by beating a confession out of it!"
Blake began to walk toward him, cracking his knuckles as he neared. "Maybe not, but I can at least teach you your fucking place."
His voice was low, dangerous.
His fist flew out, but Norman expected it—he dodged backward, leaning over the table, and retaliated, his hand sailing in a chop aimed for Blake's neck.
But his wrist was caught and the arm twisted—in a heartbeat he was pinned against the table with his arm chicken winged behind him.
"See that coming?" Blake said, a taunt, forcefully bending Norman over the table and wrenching his arm painfully.
Norman cried out, his shoulder protesting the coarse treatment.
"This room needs a prisoner, Norman," Blake said, retrieving his handcuffs and fastening one of its silver claws around Norman's reddening wrist. "Since you let ours go, you can take his place."
He rotated Norman's arm out of its pinioned state and clipped the other cuff to the metal bar on the desk.
"Blake, fuck...!" Norman executed the hopeless action of shaking the binds.
It was the second time in hours that he'd been in handcuffs.
"I believe this is what you'd call irony, Jayden?" Blake said, the smirk on his face perceptible in his voice.
"Blake, I don't have time for your sadistic, sociopathic shit! I'm trying to solve a goddamn case here—"
"And yet you haven't done a damn thing except piss me off!" Blake interrupted, fisting Norman's hair and pulling, tilting his face to the ceiling, exposing his throat. "I haven't liked you or your fucking superior goddamn attitude since the moment we started working together, Jayden," Blake hissed. "Frankly, all you've really done is set me back. I definitely could have done without you on this one..." He kicked the back of Norman's knees, causing him to collapse to the floor, held upright only by his hands, braced against the table's edge.
"But I might as well make use of you now."
Norman slowly looked up, saw Blake unzipping his pants, quickly came to the logical conclusion. With his free hand, he threw a frantic punch at Blake's stomach. It was intercepted and the wrist was now in the grip of Blake's right hand.
Norman was fully and effectively restrained.
"God damn it, Blake..." Norman growled, struggling against two cuffs that were each as inescapable as the other.
"Fuck off, you'll live," Blake muttered, fisting Norman's hair again, forcefully guiding his head into the right position. "If you bite," Blake said, freeing himself completely, aroused into hardness by the cruelty yet to come, "I'll make it so that you don't walk again. I'll show you all kinds of shit I'm capable of."
He pulled Norman's head forward and cleaved his lips.
Norman's protests died, suppressed, his tongue was assaulted by the taste of Blake, of virility, of rage. He choked as the member stabbed deeper, beating the back of his throat after a few experimental thrusts.
A helpless moan that sounded more like a groan of pain drifted over Blake's erection. Sweat beaded on Norman's forehead, his eyes half-lidded.
"You're not the only one who can get away with whatever the fuck you want in here," Blake said gruffly. Norman could taste the first traces of Blake's fluid essence.
His knees were sore. His arms were limp; his left hand and wrist were numb, turned crimson by the blood trapped in the limb.
Blake's member scraped against his tongue, drowned him, suffocated him. A few more brutal jabs and Blake was cumming down his throat.
He could barely breathe with all the matter clogging his throat. Blake slowly withdrew. Norman's head began to tilt down again in exhaustion, but the hand that had fisted his hair clamped onto his jaw from underneath it, forcing his face back up.
"Let's try to keep the mess to a minimum, Norman," Blake said, his fingers digging into Norman's face. "Swallow it."
Norman's lips were parted, desperately trying to suck in air. A rivulet of cum trickled out of the side of his mouth, thinning out after slipping down an inch. Under the strength of Blake's fingers, he struggled to close his mouth in order to make swallowing possible. Slowly he managed it, forcing the milky liquid down his throat over the course of several swallows.
Blake let go of him harshly. His left hand fell to the floor to support himself, his head bowed before Blake, his shoulders heaving. The tears that he was holding back began to fall.
"Being obedient might not be easy for you," Blake said, "but it's better than wasting your time in a hospital."
"Are you done?" Norman said, his trembling, hate-filled voice muffled because he hadn't looked up from the floor. Slowly he did so, however, and his wet eyes, brimming with hurt, met Blake's. "Was your idea of 'teaching me a lesson' fucking my face?"
A corner of Blake's mouth turned up in an ominous smirk.
"You're delusional if you think you're getting off so easy."
Something cold, like dread, seemed to strike Norman's body. He went rigid. Stopped breathing for a moment.
"Blake..." he said warily, a note of warning in his voice.
He was grabbed by his collar and pulled off his knees. Violently he was thrown forward against the table. Bent over it, he could feel Blake wasting no time in stripping his bottom half.
"Blake, stop it!" he cried, trying to kick behind him in a desperate attempt to delay the inevitable. Blake forced Norman's pants down his hips and, as Norman began kicking, gripped the back of his neck and slammed his temple against the table. Norman's resistance ceased immediately; his ears rang and his vision blackened for a moment. Reaching around the debilitated body, Blake grabbed Norman's tie and pulled, the tie wrapping around Norman's throat and forcing his head off the table.
"This is why it's necessary to punish you," Blake growled. Norman was his now, but he was still recalcitrant, defiant—Blake would break him.
"Blake, let go..."
Norman didn't want Blake constricting him in this way. In Blake's hand, Norman's tie became a leash.
Leaning over Norman, Blake said lowly in his ear, "Tell me, Norman. Are you an animal in need of taming... or a child that needs to be spanked?" His other hand ran down Norman's body and rested on his bare ass.
"Blake!" Norman yelled, panicked.
Blake smirked. "Are you going to behave?"
"I won't be your slut," Norman snapped. He gave a tormented cry as Blake's palm slammed against his ass.
"I advise you not to ever assume I'm joking," Blake warned. His fingers curled around Norman's hips.
A rough grip.
Norman groaned, protesting the intense dots of pressure sinking deep into his hipbones.
As bruising as his condescending insults.
"I told you back at the shrink's office that I'd make you pay, you little insolent piece of shit," Blake said lowly. Norman shivered.
Raping my mouth wasn't enough for him.
He felt Blake rubbing against him, lining himself up with Norman's entrance.
"You're... you're taking me dry?" Norman said, an infuriating timidity in his voice, a fragility that made him vulnerable.
Blake laughed shortly. "You're no virgin back there, are you?"
He tightened his grip on Norman's body so that his knuckles turned white and forcefully rammed inside Norman's ass.
A cry resembling a sob twisted out of Normans mouth, still stained with the evidence of Blake's earlier abuse.
Norman's back arched, making him look like the slut he had just sworn he would not be. Blake mercilessly rocked against him. Forced himself in and out. Painted himself with Norman's blood.
"Blake... you fucking... psychopath..." Norman managed between gasps. He was answered with a particularly damaging thrust.
He was crying again. The kind of tears that come when you are entirely helpless and frustrated. With each thrust, Blake pulled his hips against him, doubling the force and creating the illusion that he was being met halfway.
Norman panted and gasped, hating himself, loathing Blake, despising everything. He was unable to contain the soft whimpers that escaped his parted lips. Couldn't hold back the moans that came each time Blake struck his prostate.
Then Blake was blasting him with cum, filling him inside so violently that excess traces drained out of his entrance. His own neglected sex wept bitterly, the hardness painful but too shameful to alleviate.
Blake thrust a few more times before pulling out. There was a small whine-like moan from Norman, so quiet compared to the sounds he made during the act.
Slowly, the fingers on his left hand that clutched the opposite edge of the table released their grip. The nails that dug into the palm of his right came out of the burrows they'd made in his skin.
Blake's fingers gradually followed the example, retreating from Norman's bruised hips.
Looking down at the younger man's flushed, tainted body, Blake heard the small voice say, "Bastard."
Blake's hand slipped down to Norman's thigh and squeezed, hard enough to cause pain.
"Watch it, Jayden," Blake said dangerously. To his surprise, Norman began trying to push his leg down through Blake's hand, attempting to relocate the hand to between his legs.
"You fucking rape me and don't even let me..." His voice trailed off and his movement stopped, apparently realizing how humiliatingly shameful his behavior of a moment was.
Blake chuckled, pulling his hand back. "How about I go turn on the camera and you perform for me?"
"Fuck you," Norman was quick to reply, turning his head and glaring.
Blake sneered at him.
Norman's head fell exhaustedly back to the table. His eyes fell shut, and while his breathing was returning to normal, his heartbeat would not be pacified.
He hissed at the touch of something cold pressed to his lower back; looking behind him again, he saw that Blake had left him the key to the handcuffs, placing it right above the gentle upward slope of his ass.
"Make sure you get those back to me. I might need to use them again." He leaned close to Norman once more and said, "But let's hope you don't make me."
Blake stood upright and walked to the door, left the room without looking back at Norman, the door clicking shut behind him.
The young agent's legs collapsed; he fell to his knees, the key clattering to the floor beside him. His shoulders shook, his lower lip quivered slightly. Tears ran down his face and Norman screamed, melancholic and angry and hopeless and agonized.
Blake walked away smirking.
© Shadows Underground 2010