Disclaimer: I don't own anyone.
Rated: M
Warning(s): Slash, Threesome, Kidnapping, Threats, Possible Non-Con, BDSM Punishment, etc.
Red bled before Roman's eyes. He didn't even realize he was moving - or, rather, didn't care - but he soon found himself face-to-face with the monster. They were within inches of one another, breathing the same air, eyes locked, nostrils flared, fists clenching... it was a dangerous game of chicken, waiting to see who would cave and back down first. It certainly wouldn't be Roman. Dean was moaning on the bed, his body undoubtedly a mass of unimaginable pain. The monster broke the staring contest first, shooting a confident glare in Dean's direction. He would have him soon.
Taking advantage of the momentary distraction, Roman kneed the monster between the legs. He let out a grunt, eyes widening in shock and discomfort, and he doubled-over, holding his genitalia to prevent it from further assault. And that was just fine. Hooking an arm around Ryback's neck, he took him down to the floor. He hit his head on the metal frame beneath the bed, slicing it open and creating a bloody mess. Roman didn't care. Something inside of him had snapped when he saw Dean lying there, totally unable to defend himself. He was going to tear the monster limb from limb.
He took his head and slammed it into the bedframe again. And again. And again. Blood trickled over his hands, but he just didn't care. It was only when Ryback started to struggle against him, called back to full-consciousness by the blood trickling into his eyes, that he faced a real threat. Ryback forced him onto his back - lying on the sidewalk, blood running onto the concrete, where were his pants? - and Ryback bashed his head into the floor. Roman groaned, feeling blood dampen his dark curls. Unwillingly, his body went slack and black briefly flooded his vision.
Dean was screaming behind the shirt now, rattling his handcuffs uncomfortably. Roman sat up, body aching, and landed a swift punch to the bloody side of Ryback's head. At the very least, it was enough to get the big man off of him - pinning him down, pressing on his aching ribs, no more strength to struggle - and they tumbled on the floor again. Stumbling to his feet, Roman leaned on the wall, slamming his foot onto Ryback's ribs. Dean must've tried to struggle before, because the ribs seemed to be a sensitive area, so he continued his assault on that area.
Just then, Ryback grabbed his ankle - his rib-cage flaring with unbelievable pain, eyes sliding closed as he struggled in vain, and he could feel himself tear - and, using that as leverage, he knocked Roman down and had the back of his head hit the windowsill with a resounding crack. He groaned, feeling blood bubble in his throat. But he wouldn't stop. Throwing his lower body up into the air at an awkward angle - he could feel himself tear, blood running down his legs - he wrapped his legs around Ryback's hips, and twisting his body around, he threw Ryback down onto the floor. All it took was one more strike to the head - and that was it. Ryback was out cold.
Using the bed as leverage, Roman stumbled to his feet. He could feel blood trickling down the back of his neck. "Don't worry, Dean. I'll take this," he ripped the shirt out of Dean's mouth, "And I'll find the keys to those handcuffs sooner or later."
"You know, it would be just like Ryback to have not brought the keys along. He certainly didn't think that he was going to need to use them." Dean offered meekly.
Roman only rolled his eyes. "Way to be an optimist, Dean." He was back on his knees, searching Ryback's unconscious, bloody body.
Dean struggled to lean forward, wanting to see what Roman was doing. When it hurt too much to hold that position, he fell back against the pillows. "Just be careful, okay? You look like a mess and I'm sure he doesn't look much better - but don't mistake that as weakness and underestimate him."
"I wouldn't be too concerned about that." Roman said distractedly. He raised one of the big, meaty arms in the air, letting it fall back to the ground lifelessly. "He's out cold, man. He'll be lucky if he wakes up before the next millennia."
"You sure you didn't kill him?" Dean asked.
Roman leveled his lover with a glare. "I'm not stupid, Dean. I didn't kill him."
Surprisingly, it wasn't that difficult to find the key. It was on a chain around Ryback's neck. Roman took hold of the chain and yanked it off easily, using his foot to shove Ryback's body aside, before climbing back onto the bed and meeting Dean's eyes for the first time. For almost being the victim of a vicious sexual attack, Dean seemed, for the most part, relatively calm. But Roman knew it was only a façade. Dean, like everyone else, had his tells. He was avoiding Roman's eyes and digging his nails into his hands. Roman knew that he was absolutely traumatized.
Quickly, he unlocked the cuffs and stuffed the key into his pocket. Reaching off of the bed, he found Dean's clothes and handed them to him, before instructing him to clean himself up in the bathroom. Dean didn't hesitate. Once the door to the bathroom closed, Roman set to work. Lifting Ryback's unconscious body onto the bed, he closed the handcuffs around Ryback's wrists and ankles. And then, taking a tie out of Dean's suitcase, he stuffed it into Ryback's mouth and tied it behind his bed. For once, Ryback would be on the wrong end of his torture. He wondered how it would feel to wake up on the other side of the handcuffs.
Dean came out of the bathroom, dressed in a loose pair of pajamas. His eyes widened when he saw Ryback handcuffed down onto the bed. "Do I even want to know?"
Roman only shook his head. "No, not really. Now c'mon, we're not staying here." Dean tilted his head to the side, obviously confused. "I'm taking you to see Seth. I think I need to have my head looked out and you two really need to talk. Besides, it'll be safe there."
Dean messed with the frayed end of his pajama shirt slowly. "What would we even talk about?" He asked softly.
"Everything."