NIGHT TERROR
AUTHOR'S NOTE/DISCLAIMER
This was going to be part of "When The Lines Blur" but I could never find a place to fit it in, so I decided to just write a one-shot for it. Power Rangers belongs to Haim Saban and Nickelodeon. I only own the plot.
Jason had been sleeping peacefully until his bedroom door opened. No, he thought to himself. He didn't want to do this. He kept his eyes closed as he heard his father's footsteps approaching his bed. No, no, no, no, no, no! Please, no! the boy begged to himself. He had already been put through too much. He didn't need this trash tonight. Maybe he could convince his father he was asleep. If he could do that, the man would leave him alone…hopefully. After a few seconds, the footsteps stopped and Jason felt a new weight right beside him. Almost immediately, he felt his bed sheet being pulled away.
"I know you're awake, boy," Curtis Scott snapped as he slid in next to his son. Jason moaned and slumped his shoulders. The man was already undressed and raring to go.
"Not tonight…please?" he begged softly. For an answer, the man just scooted closer. With a resigned sigh, Jason sat up and removed his red tank top.
"That-a-boy," Curtis approved. Then, he pinned Jason to the bed and pressed his weight against him, letting his hands roam. As he did so, Jason let his mind wander, taking him to the place where he didn't feel any pain. It was the place that he was safe and loved, and everything was normal. It was a place where the torture and sex didn't happen. It was thoughts of this place that allowed him to make it through each day. A slap brought him out of the reverie. "Pants…now." Curtis released Jason long enough for the boy to do as he commanded and then grabbed him again, this time entering the boy roughly. Pain flitted across Jason's face and he tried to hold back the moan. No matter how many times his father did this, he could never get used to the pain, and it seemed like his father wasn't going to let him check out tonight. He was mad and wanted him to feel everything. Jason's breathing became labored as his father's hands were everywhere as he repeatedly rocked back and forth. To make matters worse, Jason could feel his body start to respond to the stimulation. No, no, no, no, no, no. Please. Don't respond, don't respond, he silently begged himself. He hated when this happened. But it was no use. He was getting aroused and he couldn't keep it from happening. Feeling what was happening; Curtis grinned wickedly and slowed his actions so that they were more sensual.
"Don't even pretend to fight, Jason. I know you like this," he stated as his son let out a strangled moan. Curtis continued his actions until Jason was sure he wasn't going to be able to stand it. "Go ahead, boy. Do what you need to do," he taunted. Jason's throat constricted. This could go one of two ways. Either the man would be satisfied and leave him alone, or he'd be more aroused and continue. What do I do? he wondered to himself. He wanted to be left alone but he knew that wasn't going to happen. "What are you waiting for, Jason? I know you want to," his father mocked again. Jason let out a moan as he released his arousal. Curtis smirked. "That-a-boy," he encouraged lustfully and Jason felt his heart sink. They were nowhere near done tonight. As if to prove his point, the man resumed his actions, once in a while, moaning his son's name. hours later, he finally pulled away, removed the covers, and then walked out of the room, closing the door. Jason rolled over, and then began to cry, his pillow soaking up his tears.