A/N: Okay, I admit it. I'm evil. Yup. Oh well . . .
Chapter 2 – This or That
Hotch awoke on a surface very unlike the one he had passed out on. It was soft, and unless he was very much mistaken, it was a bed that he was now on. Still not opening his eyes, he very slowly tried to move his hands. They were bound together with what felt like leather, and after pulling on them slightly, he realized that they were attached to the headboard with a thin sturdy chain.
Like a dog, the indignant voice in his mind pointed out.
He was aware that there was another person behind him—likely the unsub, Michael—but judging from the slow deep breaths he heard, the man was still asleep.
Silently, he tried to take stock of his physical state. His bladder was sending him rather urgent messages that he knew he wouldn't be able to ignore for much longer. He hoped that he wouldn't have to wake the other man up just to be able to take a piss.
He tried to shift from the position he was in and nearly groaned aloud with the pain those small movements had caused. His legs and shoulders were throbbing painfully, but it was barely noticeable compared to the pain in his groin and ass. In addition, he could also feel an array of pulled muscles all through his lower back and thighs that were likely adding to that pain. Slowly, he managed to open his eyes, only to find himself looking into a big bunch of nothing. There was some kind of light coming from the opposite side of the bed, but it wasn't very strong and did very little to illuminate the room they were in. Given that he could see no walls around them, let alone windows, it was possible that they were in another warehouse of some sort.
Before he could evaluate much more, he felt his captor—his rapist—moving behind him, and then a big meaty hand was on his stomach, pulling him backwards into very unwelcome arms. Once more, he felt Michael's lips kissing the back of his neck and he tried to hold in his revulsion at the sensation.
"Michael?" He tried in what he hoped was a calm voice.
"Mmm?" The other man asked from where he had begun sucking the skin at back of his neck.
"Why did you pick me?" His was an honest interest. Of all of the men and women present in that warehouse, why had the unsub picked him?
"You were the prettiest," Michael murmured, rearranging his body until he was resting flat on his back. It was then that he realized that the ceiling above them was shrouded in darkness too.
"What does that mean?" He asked softly, the pain in his groin and the extreme pressure on his bladder making it hard for him to speak much louder.
The other man moved into his field of vision and it was all he could to contain a gasp of disbelief. His captor, the unsub that they had flown down to help find, was none other than one of the police department's custodians. He knew that Michael's voice had sounded familiar; just as he now knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the large, well over 6 foot tall man was the same person that they seen cleaning up the department after hours. The man had initially made him think of a large lumberjack, minus the large axe.
"It means that you were the one that I wanted to fuck up the worst," Michael said, finally answering Hotch's previous question.
"Did I do something to offend you?" Aside from working on this case, he had never met the man above him.
Michael's hand was stroking his chest in a definite downwards direction and he hoped that his question would distract him from doing anything else to him.
At least for a while, was his rueful thought as he tried to surreptitiously move his bound hands in front of his groin.
"I could smell you," the large man said as he leaned over and began licking his neck. Hotch flinched and tried to pull away, but the man's giant hand abruptly began pushing harder against his chest, and he forced himself to still. It was very evident to him now that Michael would easily snap his bones if he so chose too.
He hated how the unsub was treating him. He felt dirty. The man reminded him of Foyet in a dark way that Hotch wasn't quite sure he wanted to analyze.
Finished with his neck for the moment, Michael sat back up and looked his body over with a predator's eye.
"Your power drew me to you. So strong, so willful," his captor said with a frightening grin. "Your team—how they interacted with you, how they loved you," the man said with a sigh. "It made me want to love you too, you see?" Michael said; drawing a sweat dampened hand down the side of his face covetously.
"And that made you angry," Hotch answered quietly, trying to maintain his dignity regardless of the circumstances surrounding them.
"If you can't beat 'em, join 'em, right? Isn't that what they say?" Michael said, viciously backhanding him.
Hotch's head whipped to the side hard, and it stunned him for a moment. He could taste blood from where the slap had split his lip.
"Then again, since I can beat 'em, why should I give a damn either way?"
No, he was wrong. This man didn't remind him of Foyet at all; he reminded him of his father.
Taking a steadying breath after that little realization, Hotch decided that it was time to tell this man one of his more pressing needs.
"Is there a toilet anywhere around here?" He asked as casually as he could. He didn't want to make it seem as though he actually needed the damn thing, even if he did.
"Why yes, there is," the man leered suggestively down at him. "What will you give me for the right to go?"
He didn't answer, feeling as though the monster above him already had the script in place.
"I know," Hotch didn't like the sound of that at all. "Give me a kiss and we'll go find you some relief."
A kiss? And allow himself to be voluntarily manipulated?
"Fine," he all but growled out, feeling rather desperate.
Lips decided on his and he forced himself to be still, forced himself not to bite.
The mouth pulled away and he found himself looking up into a disapproving face.
"That wasn't a kiss," was the unsub's complaint to him. "I want your mouth, Agent Hotchner."
Well, between that and being raped again, a kiss was certainly the lesser of two evils. He tried to tell himself that as those hateful lips decided upon his mouth again. He tried to remember that as he opened his jaw ever so slightly and allowed that repulsive tongue access to his mouth, to his teeth and to his oral cavity. This time when the man's mouth pulled away, it was done with a clearly visible smile that Hotch could have just as well done without seeing.
"Much better," the unsub praised him with a suggestive tilt to his voice. Then, without any further ado, the man reached over and undid the lock from the chain that was attached to the headboard. A moment later Hotch was off the bed, being led painfully across the room by the chain connected to the cuffs around his wrists.
Like a dog, he thought again.
He very nearly fell as he first stood up, but his desire not to be touched by the unsub was great enough to overrule the urge to faint or fall.
The man led him across the empty expanse of darkness that still surrounded them with an ease that Hotch found a bit unnerving. The room was large, and the floor was cold cement not much unlike the floor that he had been raped on initially.
Suddenly, a light was thrown on and he was momentarily blinded. Not caring about his prisoner's lack of sight, Michael continued to tug on his chain, causing him to stumble a few times before his vision began returning. By that point, Hotch realized that they were in a smaller room than the one they had just left. To one side sat a row of sinks—no mirrors, Hotch noted with some interest—and along the other side of the room he saw a very large tub. On the wall opposite from where they had come in was a set of urinals and then finally, a toilet.
By this point, his need to go was very nearly all he could think about, and the sight of that blessed fixture very nearly caused him to cry out.
"Do you want me to help you?" Michael asked him with a knowing glance down at his bound hands.
"I'll just sit," Hotch replied testily, not wanting any form of help from this man.
Michael led him to the toilet and he slowly eased his aching body down on it. As he was—thankfully—doing his business, he couldn't help but notice the unsub's unrelenting stare over his body. However, despite his discomfort with the naked man standing by, the release of urine from his body still caused him to relax enough to close his eyes, if only for a brief moment.
After finishing and feeling much more human again, Hotch looked up to see discover that his captor was now sporting a full erection. Even more discomfiting however, was his realization that his mouth was exactly on par with the engorged body part. Moving to stand, Hotch didn't expect the larger man to suddenly drop a meaty paw down on his shoulder, dropping him back down on the pot with an audible thud. The impact jarred his still sensitive rectum, forcing a low groan out of him.
"Open up," Michael's voice penetrated his pained consciousness, but Hotch resolutely shook his head 'no,' trying in vain to pull away.
A rough calloused hand grabbed his face and jaw with a painfully tight grip, forcing him to still lest he want to have his jaw broken. There was no question in Hotch's mind that this unsub could do exactly that if he so desired.
"Open," Michael's voice was firm, his tone cajoling, as he bumped the front of his dick against Hotch's still closed lips.
He could smell him, and he wondered if the man had cleaned himself off after reaming his ass out the night before.
Hotch hoped so as the strong hand began squeezing his face in earnest. He felt his jaw grind as the unsub roughly pushed it back and forth, and he looked up at the man above him with clearly expressed anger within his eyes.
He had no doubt as to whether Michael would rape his mouth with or without his consent, and after finally deciding that he didn't want to have to experience it with a broken jaw, he opened his mouth and waited for the inevitable.
"Bite and I ram an ice pick up your urethra, get me?" The unsub threatened him with a growl.
He couldn't do anything more than nod his understanding as the man began sliding his cock into his unwilling mouth.
He'd never sucked cock before—regardless of what people think about lawyers, was his sarcastic internal comment to himself—but he did know a few things about the act itself. He knew to keep his teeth covered if he wanted to make it through the experience intact. He also knew that deep throating was harder than it looked, and he hoped that his nonexistent skills would not be put to the test.
The hand on his face didn't go away, and neither did the misery in his gut at self-degrading act he was being forced into performing. However, both of these concerns faded into the background as more cock was forced into his mouth, and he tried to not gag. The smell was bad enough, but the taste of unwashed male was making bile literally rise in his throat, and he had to blink hard to keep his watering eyes from actually producing tears.
"That's good Aaron," Michael was practically crooning at him and idly he wondered if he could take the chance of biting after all. It would be excruciatingly painful to the other man and would likely force him to his knees. But was he strong enough to pull the leash out of his hands and then get away before the other man regained his feet?
He didn't know.
The tip of the cock in his mouth brushed the back of his throat and he let loose an involuntary gag.
"Remember Aaron, the ice pick isn't too far away," Michael's voice broke through his thoughts with a knowing look.
Steeling himself against the assault of his mouth and trying the ignore the threat of having an ice pick blade shoved up into his cock, Hotch forced himself to focus and man up to the situation.
The man's dick was heavy and hot in his mouth and he could feel the steady drip of pre-ejaculate against the back of his tongue. It was a bitter taste which he could not allow himself to think of, lest he give into his body's need for expulsion.
"Move your tongue, that's it, back and forth," Michael was petting his cheek and he could not help but give a mild shudder of distaste.
He was drooling slightly around the large obstruction in his mouth, but was loathe to actually try to swallow against it. He didn't have any problem with trying to get the man off as quickly as possible though. The faster the unsub ejaculated, the faster his experience would be over.
At least until Michael recovers, was the uncomfortable thought his mind added.
The hand on his face moved to his hair and he braced himself for the grip he knew was coming. Soon, all too soon, his captor did exactly that, just as he began fucking his mouth in earnest. Hotch fought against himself and made his mouth and throat relax as much as possible. His air was being cut off again as the big cock pushed itself rhythmically against the back of his throat, and he knew it wouldn't be long before Michael pushed in just that much further.
His eyes watering, he was gasping for air by the time his captor had reached a brutal pace. Two short gasps were all he got before the cock was being forced past his tonsils and then down his throat itself. Both of Michael's hands grabbed his head, pulling opposite handfuls of his hair as the man tried to force himself as far down as possible into the tight cavity inside his neck. His mouth and nose were pushed up nauseatingly close to the black bush of smelly pubic hair that ringed the protruding cock. He felt his heartbeat pound alarmingly loud in his ears as his oxygen starved body tried to find air. His throat opened and closed around the offending organ, and just before dropping into unconsciousness, it unloaded into him. He was forced to swallow the vile mess into his body, his nose and eyes streaming mucous and tears as he fought against the overwhelming urge to vomit.
And then his mouth and throat were free of the obstruction and he was being jerked forwards, off of the toilet, only to collapse at the monster's feet as he gasped and choked for the much needed air. He tried to spit the taste out of his mouth as fast as possible, before it had a chance to really register with his senses, but it was to no avail.
His stomach trying to rebel, he curled up on his knees with his hands around his midsection and tried to regain his carefully guarded control over his body. It was hard work between the shuddering of his limbs and the rolling feel of his gut.
Still coughing and spitting, he barely noticed it as the unsub pulled him up by one shaking arm and made him move across the room on legs that were barely holding him up. It was only the continued fear of the unsub having to carry him that kept him moving.
And then they had finally stopped and he was allowed to drop back down onto the uncomfortable and cold floor. Wiping tears away from his eyes, Hotch realized with a start that they had stopped next to the large tub.
"You're dirty, Aaron. You need a bath."
He didn't have to look up to see the leer that seemed to be permanently affixed to the other man's face.