A/N: Wow, I'm back so soon! I know, I'm surprised too. Anyways, this is another fill for a prompt from .com that I decided to try.
Non-consensual sex, violence, language, the whole shebang. If that ain't you, I will shamelessly direct you to my fluff Hesh/Logan brotherly love story I posted a few days ago! And big thank you to everyone who reviewed my last story! Enjoy :)
It's just you and me, kid. You're alone here. Big brother and Daddy aren't here to help you get out of this one. No Keegan. No Merrick either. Quite frankly, you're not going to get out of this. We will break you. You're gonna want to die, but that's the coward's way out. Soon enough, you'll be one of us, and we'll take out the Ghosts together.
I wake up in a daze, my arm throbbing, even worse with it tied behind me. As my vision gets accustomed to the darkness of the small room I'm in, I look around. There's not much in the room except a small table to my left, and the door behind me, the dim source of light hanging above it.
My throat burns. I cough, sending a jolt of pain through my chest, coughing up bile and blood from the beating session earlier today. My head buzzed but I ignore it. I haven't eaten in two days; they won't feed me. Rorke wants me to beg for it, I won't. I'd rather die than give in and be one of them.
I'm lying on the ground, gagged, arms and feet bound. Based off what I overheard earlier, this is going to be Rorke's attempt at interrogating me on the new changes the Ghosts have made and confidential intel on our bases and plans during the war.
He walks in, carrying a chair and eating an apple. Taunting me. He unfolds the chair and sits in it, finishing the apple, tossing the core out of sight. "How you doing down there, kid? You look like absolute hell." I go to respond, then I remember I have a towel shoved down my throat.
"This isn't really fair, is it? I'm keeping you as a guest here, yet we know so little of each other." I roll my eyes at the word guest. "I think we should get to know each other a little more. You first, of course! Tell me about the Ghosts." He takes my gag out, pressing me on to speak.
"You're crazy if you think I'm talking, Rorke." I say, keeping my voice level and emotionless. He pouts a little. "Ah, I guess you're right. I guess you'll just need a little more reassurance that you can trust me. . ." What the hell is he poking at?
"That arm of your's is in some pretty bad shape." He gets up, nudging me onto my stomach. "It'd be a shame if someone. . .hit it!" He says as he kicks my forearm. I shout. "You're going to have to do better than that!" "Don't worry, Logan. I'm just warming up."
"We'll start with something more direct, easier to answer. How about those access codes to the intel you've been collecting?" The pressure on my arm increases under his foot. I remain quiet, biting back a sob. I'm pretty sure my arm is shattered at this point. Rorke kicks me over onto my back, his hand at my throat. "I will choke the life out of you ever so slowly if you don't give me the access codes, Logan. I'm the one in charge. You could actually get out of this alive if you cooperated for once." His grip on my throat tightens at the last sentence.
"F-fuck off" I manage to get out, struggling to breathe. Spots are starting to fill my vision. This can't be the way I die, can it?
He suddenly lifts his hand off my throat. "You've got balls kid, valuing this stuff over your life, I admire that. We'll get it out of you eventually. Everyone breaks; even Ghosts. You'll see." While I'm half coughing, half gasping, I fail to notice Rorke get ready to hit me until it actually happens. I roll over, my vision swimming. "You look tired, kid. Should take a nap. Today's not over yet." He walks out of the room as I pass out.
"Ah, how nice of you to finally join us," Rorke says, walking into the room again. I'm in the same room; sitting in a chair, arms restrained but not gagged this time. I ignore him, keeping my eyes forward towards the ground. He walks around, eyeing me, lingering at my arm, which has swelled up substantially. He purposely brushes past it, and I bite back a cry of pain.
"I'm rather disappointed though," he continues while playing with my hair with his fingers. "You've been out for a while. I thought you were stronger than that, Logan. After all, your father is the notorious Elias Walker," he spits out my father's name. I'm furious, I want to lash out at him, teach him not to talk about my dad like that, but I'm terrified of what he's going to do to me this time, so I keep quiet.
Rorke steps back, staring at me. I look up at him, hatred in my eyes. He lets the silence draw out between us, his eyes having a mischievous glow to them. He chuckles. "We could do this one of two ways, kid," Rorke says, squatting down to my eye level, his eyes never wavering away from mine. "We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. The easy way, you join the Federation and help take out the Ghosts."
"Over my dead body," I spit back, hoping the hatred dripping in my words would hide the slight break in my voice.
Rorke's smirking when he replies: "I was hoping you'd say that. Easy is never fun!" he pats my cheek then stands back up. "You've got a lot to learn, kid." He turns around only to whip back facing me, hitting me square in the jaw with his fist. I feel something pop; bastard dislocated my jaw already. Shit this guy was fast for his size. I manage to get it back in place quickly before turning back to face him, trying to hide the wince from the pain spreading in my face.
He grabs my face and says: "The hard way is always the most fun. For me at least." I was breathing hard now. "You sick bastard, you won't get away with this! We will kill you and the Ghosts will continue, hunting down pieces of shit like you." To this Rorke just smiles. He reaches behind me and jerks my broken arm away from my back, making me yell out. I subconsciously threw my head back, a bad idea. My vision began to fade out, starting at the corners, eating it's way toward the middle.
I sat back up, arm on fire, to face a smug looking Rorke. "Oh boy, this is fun, isn't?" He says, sounding very content. "Fuck you!" I says through my teeth, still gasping for oxygen.
Rorke raises an eyebrow at that. "There's an idea," walking forward, he takes his gloves off and tosses them aside. He takes one hand and starts caressing my face. What the hell is this guy? His fingers were rough but touched my face very delicately. He looks off into the distance for a moment, carefully, methodically traveling his hand down my face and neck. Rorke drags his hand down my chest, looking directly at me, almost pouting when his hand was going down my shirt. He took his knife from his boot and cut my shirt off my body. No no no this can't be fucking happening I think to myself, trying to frantically think of a way to get out of this.
"You're trapped, kid. No way out. Don't try and outsmart me, Logan; I know all your tricks and I can use them against you," Rorke replies to my expression, his hand continuing to venture down my body. I try to lean forward in an attempt to shield my body but he uses his other hand to push my body back, exposing myself more to the cold air. He continues, painfully slow, knowing what he was doing. It felt good in the worst of ways, but I couldn't let that show. I mask my expression well until he gets below my navel. My breath catches in my throat when Rorke begins to undo my belt with ease, taking his time yet again. He unbuttons my pants, pulling them down just enough to let my bulge be visible under my boxers. He proceeds to pull those down, making it visible that I'm already partially hard from his actions.
Rorke looks up at me, the playful smile returning on his lips. "I'm the sick bastard? You're the one getting off on this. Jesus kid, you are something else." He moves his hand back up my body, taking one of my nipples in hand. My breathing hitches, and I mentally scold myself for not being able to control it. Rorke continues to knead it between two of his fingers, continuing to be gentle. I could feel more blood rush to my groin and my breathing speed up. I unconsciously let out a small moan which is exactly what he's looking for.
I feel his fingers over my body again as he makes his way down back to my cock. I was hard almost all the way through. Rorke clasps his hand around it and begins to slowly move his hand up. I shut my eyes, not wanting to see what he's doing to me. His hand reaches my tip, and begins to rub it with his thumb. I let out a groan and momentarily open my eyes to see Rorke begin to undo his pants and take his cock out too; he being already hard. This can't be fucking happening. He starts to work his hand back down to the base, stroking himself as well. The next time around Rorke quickens the pace a bit. My head falls back and I'm breathing heavily. Rorke's breathing also hitches up a bit. At this point I'm wishing for his hands to be moving more rough against my cock to get this over with, but fuck this guy knows what he's doing; taking his time, making sure every movement gets some reaction out of me.
At this point my head is back, we're both panting and hard as rocks. I can tell Rorke's hand is covered in precum since the rough friction's replaced with slick movements that just make me want to melt into the chair. I realize I'm thrusting into Rorke's hand only when he stops jerking me. I lean my head up to see him with that damn smirk on again. "Shit kid, you're nothing like your dad. He didn't let me do anything like this to him."
"You're a disgusting excuse for a man, you know that?" I say. The thought of him trying to jerk my dad makes me queasy.
"Really? I know you liked that. You should have seen yourself. You wanted it so bad. I know you still do, considering your cock's still standing. You've got a helluva lot more to learn if you think we're done just yet." Rorke walks back over to me with his knife in hand and cuts the ropes restraining my arms. I jump up, hoping to catch him off guard but he sees it coming. He grabs my hand before I can punch him. I try to pull back but he's too strong. He grabs my other arm which makes me yell out again. I crumble down but Rorke grabs me before I fall and pulls both my arms behind my back.
In a matter of seconds, I go from being tied to a chair on the verge of orgasm and now I'm standing with my back up against the man who murdered my father in front of me, kidnapped me, and pretty much raped me with me wearing no shirt with my pants down to my knees and his cock standing out right next to my hip. Rorke lets out a snicker. "I warned you. You're very predictable, you know that? Now you're gonna pay for it" We turn around and I'm thrown up against a wall. He backs up a bit and throws himself into me. My mouth gapes open. My eyes water. My legs give out beneath me but I stay up. I let out something that sounds like a strangled groan of pain. I try to push away from the wall, but I'm met with an even harder thrust into myself and my head pushed against the concrete. It hurts. It hurts so bad. This is the most uncomfortable thing I've ever experienced and there's nothing I can do but just take it. The first few thrusts are harsh and hard, thrusting himself all the way inside of me, but Rorke eventually slows a little and thrusts in a more rhythmic way. It doesn't hurt as much, but more of an uncomfortable burning and stretching feeling.
His movements eventually became more slick from the precum and by that point I had just given in, let it happen. My mind's blank, I'm entirely there until I hear a noise: a strangled moan. I assume it's Rorke until I hear him chuckle, slowing the pace a little bit, causing me to moan again, louder this time. The tightness is eventually replaced with surges of pleasure that were accompanied by more moans coming from my mouth.
Then he stops and I immediately miss the sensation, feeling empty. I feel numb all over, and feel myself being led over to the table in the corner. I put up no fight, let myself be bent against it and filled again by Rorke. This position's a little more comfortable but doesn't feel the same as the last. The thrusts become more shallow and quicker, the same thing happening to my breaths, this feeling much better than any other. I'm lying there, face against a table, letting out moans almost every time I'm thrusted into practically drooling with precum dripping out of my ass, but at this point, I don't care.
I thought that was as good as it gets until I feel a hand clasp around my dick again. He begins jerking me again, hand and hips matching rhythms. The orgasm hits me hard, coming all over Rorke's hand, my body going limp against the table. I'm gasping for air, trying the recover as Rorke rides his out, snapping his hips into my ass as quick as possible, letting out a string of curses along the way.
He pulls out, cleans himself up, and puts his cock away while I still lay there, a mess; bent over a table, panting like a dog, pants around my ankles with come running down the backs of my legs. I was exhausted. The only feeling I have left is pain. Pain and emptiness. My arm's on fire again, I ache all over and my ass is still burning. I manage to get my pants up myself before the other Feds walk in to throw me back in the chair so Rorke could beat the shit out of me; the new daily routine.
"I'll cut you a deal kid," Rorke says casually, walking back in, my belt in his hands. "You were good tonight, so I'll go easy this time. However, you tried fighting back and we both know that's against the rules, so punishment is necessary. He unrolls the belt and I brace myself. The first hit is on my shoulder, the stinging even worse since I'm still not wearing a shirt.
"Where's your big brother now? No one's here to protect you, Logan! They all left you. Keegan and Merrick too. They don't need some kid fucking things up on the Ghosts squad." I take another hit, right across the cheek, my head whipping to the left on impact. I can taste blood in my mouth.
"You're lying!" I yell back. I won't let him win. He can't break me. He won't. "They're all better men than you, Rorke! Hesh is my brother, he won't give up on me, none of them will! They'll find me and kill you in the process!" He just laughs, hitting me again in the chest with the belt. I bit back my yelps. I can't show any more weakness than I have already tonight.
My vision is already fuzzy from the pain then he stops. Thank god, it's over I think. It's not. Rorke reaches for his belt and pulls out his pistol. My eyes go wide. "You think I'm gonna let you off that easy? You've got another thing coming, kid." He tosses it up, grabs it by the barrel and bashes me over the head with it. I hear him yell something in Russian at a few guards.
I slip in and out of consciousness as I'm being dragged back to my cell: a pit dug 8 or so feet into the ground with a metal grate on top. When they throw me back into the pit I hear Rorke say "And that concludes lesson one."