It had been there in the car that he had told his boss to leave him alone. When he started to unzip him, he had pushed him off and told him to stop. He remembered saying loud and clearly that he did not want this sort of relationship or whatever it was they were heading towards.
An unflinching eye had met his, and Gavin had wished himself away, out of the car, out of the woods, into town, into safety. And he had known that there was no point in struggling because there was nowhere he could possibly run to. Barnaby would find him. So he had given in to rough touches and violent kisses, had lent the other one his body and had done his best ignoring the fact.
"I want you to – always – do what I say, Troy," Barnaby had said, and he had acquiesced.
"Always. Because a sergeant has to obey."
"Yes, sir."
"You know what, Troy?" Something cool and sharp touched his right arm and he looked down to see a razorblade being pressed into soft skin.
"I actually like you," the blade cut his flesh and blood dribbled onto his suit, but Gavin did not wince, "Don't ever forget that". The blade cut deeper, and Gavin gulped gritting his teeth.