Sunlight started to seep through to Jack's fluttering eyes. On instinct, he threw his arm over his face to try and block out the blinding light and tried to snuggle deeper into the warm sheets-

Sheets?

Jack bolted out of his sleeping position but jerked back down, cracking his head back against a hard surface. What the hell? He craned his head to look up at his wrist, and all the air in his lungs rapidly escaped when he recognized the silver metal. Cuffs.

Panic swelled up inside him at the next few realizations he had: he wasn't outside-where he was used to sleeping-, he was in a room surrounded by expensive things-that were not his-, he was in a bed, and he was incapable of leaving. Jack thought about screaming before he remembered he was an orphan and no one gave a rat's ass what happened to him. Then he decided keeping his mouth shut we be a better option. After all, he had no idea where he was at whatsoever. Not to mention, who the hell could walk through the room's single door at any moment.

Jack sat back against the hard surface-a headboard- and tried to take slow breaths through his nose. It was a habit he picked up for whenever he was in a tight situation. There was always a way out of everything, right? But as Jack looked around the large room with a single skylight in the ceiling as the room's only source of natural light, he knew there was no way he could reach that and therefore no way he could escape.

Everywhere he looked all he saw were crushed velvet seats and couches, and with the mass amount of blankets draped over every piece of furniture, the boy thought it resembled a nest. He hated to admit it, but it was cozy. After he got his bearings and managed to slow his heart rate back down, he reached up with his uncuffed hand to try and undo the one holding his other wrist to the bedpost. He sat up on his knees and tried to wiggle his cuff around to see where the look was. This proved to be a difficult task because of how small it was, leaving almost know room for movement and putting irritated red lines along his skin whenever he yanked too hard.

Jack started grumbling under his breath about just how stupid this luck was, and how stupid the bedpost was for making it so difficult for him to see just what the fuck he was doing, but mostly at himself for getting himself into his situation in the first place. He felt his skin pull again and get pinched between the metal and he had to grind his teeth to keep from shouting out. Afterwards, he let loose a stream of curse words for good measure, just to keep himself in the right mindset.

After a few hours of struggling with his cuff, he eventually lost it and resulted to frantically beating his hand against the post and then yanking away, hoping he would be able the break the post off and just waltz out. Who the hell cared if he had to walk around with cuffs on for the rest of his life? The utter cleanliness and sophisticated lavishness of the room made his chest hurt and he just wanted to be out. The rank smell of garbage mixed with sex that he'd gotten used to smelling would be welcome compared to-what the hell was he even smelling? Jack stopped his thrashing to take a big whiff of his atmosphere, immediately wrinkling his nose in disgust. Was that...fucking carrots? Mixed with some kinds of herbs…

In other words, it smelled like a fucking garden. A garden of vegetables would be more accurate, but there were so many different smells going on that it was impossible to pinpoint just one. Somewhere off in the distance Jack smelled the yeast of alcohol, in one corner he could have sworn he sees cinnamon, and then in another there was the vague smell of citrus, lemons maybe. The more Jack picked out the smells, the more horrified he became because he tried he sort of liked it. They weren't awful smells-well, some of them were, but not all of them.

Again, Jack grew frustrated. He looked at the post with resentment, trying to examine it from every angle he possible could. Why couldn't he just slip the cuff off the top?

Then he saw why, and his heart sped right back up again when he did.

When Jack leaned over to the left side, he found a hole going all the way through to the other side that the cuff had been slipped through. So he couldn't simply slip off the cuff because the cuff was a part of the bed he sat on. He had a theory, one he didn't want to know if it was true or not, but his curiosity got the best of him again and he leaned over to look at the post on the opposite side. To Jack's complete horror and disgust, he found another just like it in the other post. His handcuff fit so perfectly through it that he couldn't help but wonder if it was designed specifically for this purpose-a purpose he wasn't entirely sure what it was. He had an idea though.

Is this for...sex? Just the thought made Jack's skin crawl. Not only did he get kidnapped by some bastard, he got kidnapped by some kinky bastard.

All the panic he dispelled came back full force and he resumed beating the living hell out of the bedpost. There was no way he was going to stay here any longer. Jack focused on yanking the metal around his wrist, hearing and feeling the wood in the post starting to bend with resistance. He heard a slight cracking sound, realizing he might just be able to get himself free after all. But right as he felt he was making progress, his heart stopped at the sound of clicking coming from the single door in the back of the room. The brass knob jiggled, clearly someone was trying to get in. Jack panicked even more, now furiously kicking the post that held him to his spot. But he didn't make anymore progress because then he heard the tell tale click of the door being unlocked.

It opened slowly, creating a loud creaking sound as it drifted back on its hinges. A man wearing a pressed gray suit stepped in, his footsteps making almost no sound at all on the thick carpet. Jack never ceased his struggle to rip himself out of his cuffs and he almost didn't even notice the man coming up behind him. Suddenly, Jack heard a faint jingling sound and he stopped moving. He turned his head to see the man smirking behind him and twirling a key ring around his index finger. "You're going to need these to get out of those."

Jack growled at him, suddenly more irritated than afraid, "Just who are you and what the hell am I doing here?" The boy turned his whole body around and tried to stand up as much as he could while still cuffed to the bed. It was hard, given his tall height, but he managed to get an extra inch or two on the older man.

Now that he could see better, Jack noticed the man could have only been in his early thirties or late twenties. His gray hair that was slicked back in a business-like fashion with a few strands sticking up in a few places threw him off though. Jack only saw hair like that on older people. The man had piercing green eyes that made Jack uncomfortable the more he looked into them. There was no way to know what the man was thinking about with that look in his eye, it was intimidating and dominating, and Jack found himself looking back down to glare at the bed sheets underneath him instead.

"My name is E. Aster Bunnymund. Ever heard of me?" The man asked in a friendly tone. It only did to make Jack even more weary of his situation because he knew there was no way this man who kidnapped him was going to be friendly, that much Jack was sure of.

Jack shook his head, "Nope, can't say I have. Your name is Bunny? You don't look like one. I think you look more like a kangaroo."

Okay, Jack knew he was probably overstepping his boundaries and testing this stranger's resolution by taunting him like that. But it came out quicker than he could stop it and he had to resist the urge to slap a hand over his mouth to prevent him from damning himself any further. Jack knew he was in for it, when he saw how the man's eyes narrowed at him from under his bushy gray eyebrows, he knew this wasn't going to end well for him. But he couldn't have helped it! He'd always had an impulsive personality. There was just no way around it. And as Jack saw how the man's eyes almost turned visibly darker and his smirk faded away, he couldn't help but get a really bad feeling.

"Kangaroo? Mate, if you know what's good for you," as Aster said this, he hooked an arm around the back of Jack's legs and had the boy flat on his back in one swift motion. "You won't ever say that again."

Jack was debating in his head whether or not he had enough dignity to sass Aster again, but before he could answer he became increasingly aware of the man's hand that was still gripping his leg and his other hand pressing firmly into Jack's chest, keeping him flat against the sheets. "Get off," Jack growled and tried to wriggle away.

But Aster only seemed to be spurred on and he started climbing over top of Jack, moving his hand to push back on Jack's arms and grinding his knee into Jack's legs to keep him from kicking him by accident-or on purpose. "I don't think I will. Why don't you show me that feisty attitude of yours again," Aster whispered into the boy's ear.

Then Jack flipped, "No! Get the hell off of me you old bastard!" Jack got his leg out from under Aster's knee and drove it into the man's chest. "You keep your filthy hands off!"

Aster laughed watching the boy struggle underneath him. He was far stronger than Jack, but he still let the kid kick and try to hit him to be a good sport. Though he had to admit, the kid had spunk. The gang boss thought about how useful Jack would be to his team. It's not like there was anybody else looking at for the kid, nobody would miss him if he suddenly disappeared from the streets. In fact, Aster knew no one would miss him; Aster could keep Jack here with him and see that angelically-mischievous face every day. Hell, Jack should want to stay with him-it was better than sleeping outside, wasn't it?

The boss was still thinking when he all of sudden caught a pale fist flying towards him. He caught it a few centimeters in front of his face and grasped the hand tight. "That was bold of you," Aster commended while glaring into the kid's blue eyes. Aster held the fist tightly, slipping his own fingers in to touch the boy's palm, "You're freezing!"

"I have bad circulation, fucker!" Jack shouted and tried to pull his hand away. However, Aster kept a firm hold in it and pushed it into a second cuff connected on the opposite bedpost, leaving Jack completely without the use of his arms. Jack tried to bite Aster-a low move, but he was desperate-and he thrashed around to keep the older man from touching him. The boy was expecting the boss to start trying to take his clothes off but instead he just sat back and laughed at the white haired kid.

"You know, you would be an excellent addition to my gang here. I know I would love the chance to see that pretty face of yours everyday. Maybe in this very spot," Aster ran a hand down the side of Jack's face, lowering his eyes to the bed they both sat on as he did so. Then Aster had to pull his hand away with the swiftness of a rabbit before Jack had a chance to bite off one of his fingers. "Ha! Ya almost got me that time."

Jack didn't stop glaring at the man because he knew if he didn't he would reveal how scared and nervous he actually was. He wasn't naive at all-growing up on the streets had made quick work of whatever naivety he had and reduced it to nothing. The boy was well aware of the risks of being in his predicament. But he wasn't sure how to deal with it. Then he registered what Aster had asked; did he really ask Jack to join him? That would mean getting off the streets, but Aster also mentioned having him in bed-and that was not something Jack was going to do. There was no way he was going to let this shit-fuck turn him into his own personal whore. "I wouldn't stay here ever! Especially here with a creepy old shit like you!"

Well, that was about all the patience Aster had to deal with the adolescent. He threw his hand around Jack's neck and shoved him against the headboard. Jack yelped at the sudden force and let himself be pushed down.

"Listen kid, you would be wise not to tempt me. I've been patient, but it tends to go very quickly," Aster said darkly while letting his eyes rake over the boy's body. He eyed the way Jack's sweatshirt had lifted partially in the scuffle and now left a pale strip of his skin exposed to the air. Aster could see the outlines of his hip bones and the way his stomach muscles shivered in apprehensive fear. The boss couldn't help himself at that point, he grabbed both of Jack's legs and pulled the boy out from his protective crouch against the headboard he had been thrown against. Jack yelped again because now he was partially laying on his back with both of his arms cuffed back on the posts and he had never felt so vulnerable in his life. As much as he tried, he couldn't hide the fear beginning to swim in his blue eyes as Aster leaned over him and played with the button on Jack's pants. "I was going to wait, but you make it so hard. Anyway, I should really use this opportunity to teach you a lesson about not showing respect for those above you."

Then Aster began to unzip the front of Jack's pants while the boy fought hard against the taller and stronger man to get away. Jack screamed as loud as he could for Aster to get the hell off of him, hoping someone would hear and come investigating. But no matter how hard Jack screamed, he didn't hear a thing outside the room, all of the hallways were empty. By now Aster was trying to tug down the pants but was having a little difficulty due to how viciously the kid was kicking him. All of a sudden, to Jack's relief and Aster's annoyance, another man walked in and stopped Aster in his struggle.

"PHIL! What did I fucking tell you about interrupting me?!" Aster whipped around and shouted at the man who currently was having hard time standing and trembling in fear at the same time.

"I-I'm sorry, sir, I didn't mean to interrupt you, but you have a call from Mr. North on the line," the hoggish looking man stuttered out.

Aster heaved a sigh before quickly leaning down and giving Jack a chaste kiss on the cheek, "We'll finish up later," he promised and stood up from the bed. He gave Jack one last threatening look and then kicked the smaller man outside, exiting right after.

Jack let his head fall back against the bed and let a huge breath out of his lungs. He let himself sink into those sheets and breathed slowly out his nose. His heart still pounded in his chest, so Jack decided to try and slow that back down before he had a heart attack-which given his situation, would have been a welcomed alternative. Jack closed his eyes and tried to remember everything that happened in the past day: he fell off of a ladder while playing a game, robbed a bakery and ate a shitton of cake, got his ass handed to him by a couple of stiff FBI looking men, and then almost got raped by a stranger with the last name 'Bunnymund.' Jesus Christ, could this day get any worse? Then Jack dispelled that thought because he still couldn't think of a single way to break himself out and there were plenty of things that could go wrong, as promised by Aster. Fatigue weighed on the boy and even though he felt so damn tired, he couldn't bring himself to close his eyes and sleep. Instead, he sat up against the headboard with his eyes wide open.

….

Aster stalked down the hall at a vigorous pace with his frazzled attendant following close behind. If the shorter man was smart, he wouldn't still be following the visibly pissed off boss with the ability to slit someone's throat before the person had time to blink. The boss was a little salty over having been interrupted while he was playing with his new toy.

When they arrived at the door to Aster's second office (one he had to establish so people wouldn't always go barging in on him whenever they needed something-evidently it still wasn't clicking with some people), Aster slammed the door behind him in Phil's face so the attendant couldn't follow him in; he could hear Phil grumbling about it and then walking away. The boss strode over to his phone sitting on his desk. "This is Aster."

"Bunny! Old friend! It is good to hear your voice!" a loud Russian accent bellowed at him and the Aussie had to take his ear off the speaker to prevent himself from going deaf.

"North, it is always a pleasure. What can I do for you?" Aster spoke in a friendly tone. It was always good to hear from the jolly man. For a boss, he was uncharacteristically good-natured. That must have been what Aster liked so much about him.

"I heard you got a new plaything! Treating it well?" North asked.

Aster rolled his eyes; North was always calling to make sure he wasn't beating some poor kid to death. "Of course I am, North. I haven't gotten much time with him to do anything at all. Besides, his face is too good-looking for me to want to mess up. I'd like to keep this one," Aster assured him. "Anyway, I know that isn't the real reason you're calling."

"Ah! That is good to hear! You're right though, I am not calling because of that," then the man's tone went serious. "It's Pitch. His men have been at it again."

"Was it one of mine?"

"No, Tooth's."

There was an unspoken rule amongst all the bosses running a town that you didn't mess with eachother's men. Most of the time, the bosses didn't get involved in each other's business and that's the way it stayed. Suburban wars just got too complicated and the current power holders all got on well enough to avoid any serious conflict. Pitch, on the other hand, had beef with every gang in the area. And he didn't hesitate to show it.

It was common now for one of the bosses to come across one of their own strung up the side of a building in a slick of blood and ripping skin-and they didn't take it lightly. First it was one of North's girls-one he saw as his own daughter-who came limping back to their base with her hands missing. Then a little later one of North's most trusted hit men had his brains mysteriously blown out with his own gun. The girl didn't make it, and the hit men obviously didn't make it either. For awhile, North thought the man just shot himself, but that was ridiculous because North himself saw how skilled the man was with a gun and he would never make a rookie mistake like that. Now, Tooth was having trouble of her own: dismembered followers showing up at her door half dead, finding bags of limbs right on her front porch. Aster himself had gotten a few letters containing the hands of his men. It was nasty stuff, and none of the bosses liked it. Not one bit.

North called an emergency meeting to come up with a plan of how to deal with the matter. Tooth was still broken up about the death of her friends, she was a very caring person and liked to look after her followers like her own children. She and North both lost people close to them and were prepared to eradicate the problem by any means necessary.

"Let's start kidnapping and torturing Pitch's nightmarish men. I have a few antique devices from medieval times in my parlor that would be perfect to use," Tooth suggested. Tears still stained the sides of her face and red puffiness surrounded her bright and colorful eyes.

"That won't work, Pitch doesn't care for his underlyings like we do. Our best chance is to go straight for him," North rationed.

"Or, we could try and get his men to turn against him. Since we know they don't harbor the best of feelings toward him," Aster pointed out and the other two exchanged looks of agreement.

"That might be our best chance," Tooth agreed and motioned one of her men over. She whispered something in his ear and the man nodded before walking off. "I'm going to have my boys track some of them down."

The other bosses nodded and stood up from their spots in the red booth they sat in. A dim light dangled overhead, reflecting into all of their glasses of alcohol and bouncing off the polished wooden table. Aster turned away first, walking off through the poorly-lit diner and emerging out into the cool air. The sun had long gone down and every street lamp in town was emanating a blinding light. A car was parked just outside the building and Aster took his time climbing into the back seat and ordering his driver back to his base of operations.

Aster checked the time on his wristwatch when he returned home, it was almost midnight. He doubted the boy would still be awake but he decided to check in on him anyway. The man was surprised, however, to find the boy wide awake.

Aster shut the door behind him, "You're still awake?"

"Of fucking course I am. You think I'm going to sleep knowing a psychopath could walk through the door any minute?" Jack bit out.

The bos was too tired to argue with the boy, so instead he climbed into the bed, not missing how Jack froze and started trying squirm away. Jack was expecting the man to pick up where he left off, but shocked him when the boss started taking the cuffs out of the bedposts. He cuffed Jack's wrists together instead. So, he was still in cuffs, but at least his arms weren't stuck in a reaching position. His arms were beginning to get sore.

Aster slipped off his suit jacket and pants, leaving him in an undershirt in his boxers and slipped under the cover. "Do ya want to strip too?"

"No," Jack growled.

"Alright," he shrugged and settled in bed next to the boy. Jack was in handcuffs, but Aster didn't want to underestimate the kid. He was sly and might try to escape while Aster was sleeping. So the boss took the other pair of cuffs and slipped another on Jack's wrist and the other end on his own. Try getting out of that one, show pony.

Jack groaned when he felt more metal against his skin and stiffened when he realized he could feel Aster breathing on the back of his neck. It was weird and incredibly awkward, but the Aussie didn't seem bothered by it at all. In a few short minutes, the older man was breathing steadily and snoring quietly. Jack rolled his eyes but still didn't feel like he could sleep. He kept cringing at the warm air ruffling his hair on the back of his head and the hand that somehow wound its way around Jack's midsection.

It's going to be a long night.