"Hans?"
Kristoff didn't even bother trying to conceal the apprehension that must have been heavy on his features the moment Hans entered the cell, not that he would have even had the awareness to even attempt to do even that much. Some small part of him never considered that he would be seeing him this soon, though he shouldn't have been too surprised, or rather, he wished he hadn't been since he was sure he probably looked really dull, unmoved and mouth, bloody as it was, still agape even when the door was pulled open, and once the man stepped inside, was promptly, without so much as a missed moment, closed, or rather slammed, shut. Taking the keys that were firmly in hand, Hans locked it shut, hanging them on a hook just beside the door.
All the same, his mind was at a complete loss as to what he should even do, or better yet, before even taking action, what he should even think, the man in his midst turning away from him to light a small lantern that had been posted beside the cell door, one that he must have missed before, and before long, the given space was illuminated, illustrating and animating the dark crevices of the cell around him.
But not even the eve of light could put to rest the incredulous thoughts that flowed through his mind.
Why was Hans here?
He could at least figure out that he was likely the main reason he was here, though he wasn't exactly sure why or how he was, but he figured that some degree of influence was afforded to the royal prick to get him literally pantsed and left in a fucking cell. Opening his mouth, he wasn't sure what to say first, though questions were aplenty in his mind; it was more of a matter of trying to filter what he would ask. When he finally managed to scrounge up some sort of response to the new presence in his midst that, as he scrapped his thoughts together, had come to simply stand before Kristoff, his bright, strange, green eyes distant with thoughts as an odd smile crept along his face as he just...stood there. As if...admiring that he was there, caught firmly in his grasp as an almost smug tug of his lips made the man's blood simmer with irritation.
Was this what it was?
Some fucking power trip? Was that it?
No longer feeling the urge to bite his tongue, his weak voice pressed forward, just loud enough to be heard into the silence space, though it was hardly louder than a particularly fervent whisper.
"What the fuck do you want, you piece of shit? Huh? Come to beat the shit out of me, again?" He asked, bearing little in mind with consideration to decency when asking the question, the young man half-expecting the man to go on to hit him immediately, and in a sense, he sort of wished he would. Besides just being generally irritable, Kristof wasn't really fond of him just...watching him, yet all the same, he didn't pull his good eye away from the man's green ones, flashing his swollen one with defiance as he waited, and waited, and again waited, for what he would do. Usually, the man found, people liked to make punishment swift, a bit of retribution made quick and easy for everyone; that was what he was used to.
That's what he knew.
So part of him wanted to squirm when Hans didn't move. In fact, he didn't even seem to acknowledge that Kristoff had even spoken at all, the unsettling, biting silence a perversion on his assurance as he defiant expression, over the minutes that would pass between Hans' entrance and Kristoff's first words, would morph into blatant confusion, he wasn't sure he could help its change.
Was he...going to do anything?
In some way, he thought awkwardly as he shifted on his spot on the floor, he sort of hoped that something, anything, would happen, anything that would draw the former's attention away from his...less-than-ideal state.
Contrary to his upbringing, he wasn't exactly ecstatic about the idea of another grown man staring at him when he was half-naked.
But he wouldn't have to speculate much longer on what he wanted as, not sooner than the air began to grow tense, Hans stepped forward, closing the distance between him and Kristoff in just a few steps that gave the former reason to grow tense at his movements, something that the man inwardly cursed at himself for.
'What are you doing? You're not scared of this asshole; he just caught you when you weren't looking, that's all.' The man tried to reassure himself, though still, even with these thoughts in mind, he still found himself oddly...on edge. Kneeling in-front of Kristoff, he couldn't deny it.
There was something...off there. Behind those bright eyes, shaded and cast in the dark of the cell where just the two of them lied, alone.
Just...the two of them.
He could see something...strange...sinister...swimming within them, in those quiet, unassuming depths.
Something there lurked, writhing with need, with desire, to be released, but for what he couldn't tell, and what that meant he couldn't say, but...he knew something wasn't right. And it was that same feeling, full and realized, that gave him reason to pull back a bit, almost imperceptibly so, but enough that Hans seemed to chuckle, the sound devolving into full laughter that sounded...off in Kristoff's ears.
He was smiling.
Then he spoke.
"Do you understand why you're here, hmm? You understand, yes?" Hans asked simply, tilting his head with curiosity as if waiting for his answer, and at once, Kristoff was at a loss. What was he talking about?!
How could he possibly know why he was here?!
"W-what? What...what are you talking about?! No, I don't know I'm here, or what's happening, or why you all - " Kristoff was stopped short, Hans hand raised, and despite himself, he felt compelled to stop speaking, given pause as the prince continued unabated.
"No, but you do...don't you? Don't tell me you don't remember, dog." Hans hummed placidly, a mocking tone that the man didn't understand.
Remember? What exactly was he supposed to be remembering? He could recall coming back from looking for Firewood, finding...finding Anna, then...things get a bit fuzzy, but he could remember Hans' face, right there above him as he laid punch after punch on him, so if that was what he meant...he had plenty to say about that.
"Oh, right, that you beat me up? Right? Is that it? That's all I remember, so I don't understand what you're trying to say - " Again, Kristoff wasn't allowed to finish, Hans tutting, waggling a condescending finger in-front of the man's face in just a way that made him want to snap at it. But he didn't, instead, watching as Hans' face changed to a grinning, biting glance as he tilted his head the other way, like a doting child would a curious insect.
"No, see, but you do, don't you? I mean, who could forget what you did, right?" The prince mused, and standing. up, he didn't watch Kristoff's face contort and tug with confusion at the question. What exactly was he on about? The young man genuinely didn't get what he was on about.
He didn't...he didn't do anything, he...he couldn't remember doing anything at least.
What was he implying?
"I...what are you talking about? I didn't do anything - " Hans would cut in again, but this time, his words would hitch Kristoff's words in his throat.
"She was tight, wasn't she?" Came his simple question, the prince's voice blunt, stringent with care as he walked to another lamp and lit it, again illuminating another section of the cell as the words sunk in.
Deeper and deeper as a sick feeling rose in his gut.
Tight? Who...what was he...
Then it hit him.
An image of Anna, lying there, her legs slick with...
No.
No, no, no, no.
He wasn't...he...Hans wasn't...trying to say that he was...responsible for that? Responsible for...god, he couldn't even utter the word, much less think it as he lurched violently at the thought. To even suggest that he would ever do something like that to someone, much less someone that he...he loved...it was a sick, disgusting, deplorable idea.
There was no way he was responsible for that.
He didn't know who was, but it was wasn't...he would never do that.
Never.
NEVER -
"Don't say that. Don't you ever say that...she...what is wrong with you? I would never hurt Anna like that, I would never - " Hans scoffed, and turning back around to meet Kristoff's frantic ones, he was strangely, ominously, calm, even when speaking about what had happened. It disturbed him, how...casual this all was.
Anna had been...been raped.
Yet here he was, not only accusing him of it, but to do it so succinctly, so simply, so...so easily; it was as if none of it even bothered him, as if this were just a discussion of the weather or something completely and utterly...normal.
But this...this was anything but.
Yet still, Hans only sighed, as if exasperated by his voice. In one movement, Hans began to walk back to the injured man once more, though, instead of crouching to meet his eyes where they were, he stood above him, casting a judging look down, down at the man as Kristoff struggled to look up to compensate, a challenging feat on it's own.
But that didn't stop Hans from smiling, a crooked grin that made Kristoff's skin crawl.
"You weren't gentle, you know? To be so...rough with a virgin...it must have felt nice, didn't it? To tear into that ripe, little pussy, hmm? How did it feel? Come on, don't be shy about it. It's just the two of us. I know you want to talk about it." The man mused, giving Kristoff a knowing, crude look, a gross representation of his words as he seemed to think on something, as if a memory seeped grossly into his mind at his words.
But Kristoff was at a complete loss.
What the fuck was wrong with him?
No, WHAT THE FUCK WAS WRONG WITH HIM?!
"What - WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU ON ABOUT?! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?! I DIDN'T TOUCH HER, YOU SICK PIECE OF - " Kristoff wouldn't even get the chance to finish to before, just as it had twice prior, his jaw throbbed with violent anger as something collided bone-to-bone, and stranger, he could have sworn that he heard something crack. But where he was certain that it would have been Hans' fist, he was almost surprised to find that it was, instead, the toe of his stiff boot, rushing full-force into his face as he was sent to ground.
It was...odd.
He supposed that he was meant to be screaming in pain, and perhaps...he wanted to, the sheer, righteous agony so vile that he could only lie there motionless, still as he felt something warm pooling around where his mouth was. Loosing a shaky breath, he wheezed out a quiet, raspy sound, something he imagined was supposed to be a scream but he just...couldn't. But that didn't stop Hans from standing over him, his face unchanged as, with a slow, drawing glance to his boot, the tip was speckled with red, spattering messily over the article as he spotted shards of his teeth, exploded and scattered here and there on the stone.
It was surreal.
Seeing him smiling as Hans just stared down at him..
Just staring.
Grinning.
Laughing.
He could make out what he was saying, a cadence akin to an inhuman hum that echoed solemnly, ominously, around the room.
"You know what I hate more than a rapist?" Leaning down to meet Kristoff's ear, the man almost flinched when he felt his lips graced his ear, whispers of raking claws tearing down his face at the slightest movement as Hans spoke, words like leaking venom. There was hissing motion that accented his words and made him squirm with still discomfort. He could practically hear the smile on the former's lips without so much as seeing it, a scolding tone akin to a mother to a child when they misbehave.
The notion, the impression, made him want to punch him square in the face, but he knew better than to try it now.
He wouldn't get far, and besides, he realized somberly...he couldn't fathom doing anything else but trying to make sense of all of...this.
But was that possible?
How did you make sense of something this fucked up?
How?
"...I hate liars. You leave your rotten, peasant seed in her and you don't even have the balls to just admit to it? If she gives birth to bastard children, to filthy, disgusting, little wretches like you, then would you, hmm? Is that what it would take? Hmm?" Hans whispered, a sickening sound paired fittingly to sickening words.
Why...why was he saying this? He would never hurt Anna like that, he never even imagined doing that, so why? Why was he trying to tell him he did this when...when he would never -
Kristoff noticed that Hans' opposite arm was moving, pulsing up and down as he heard fabric shift something behind him. Opening his lips to try and speak, Kristoff figured very quickly that speaking wouldn't be possible, and as far as he could tell, the thought shaded with disbelief and horror, not for a while as he discovered that he couldn't feel his lips, but he could vocalize, at least...somewhat. He couldn't articulate his words as he felt Hans stand up, and though his mouth was out of commission, he could still crane his head to look back all the same.
And by the gods, he wished he hadn't.
Kristoff couldn't sit up fast enough to try and pull himself away as Hans' engorged cock rested taut in his hand, his drifting hand pumping slowly as he began to step towards him.
No. No, this...this wasn't happening.
No, this -
"Oh, come now. Don't make this hard. You seemed to enjoy having your way with Anna, right? You can't return the favor?" Hans echoed with a smile, releasing his flesh and quickly closing the distance to Kristoff as he worked his way to pinning him onto his back, and without even a moment to consider it, Kristoff felt himself nearly gag (that is, if he could gag) as Hans rested his knees on his forearms, effectively trying to pin him down, all the while his member swung just before face, the sight horrid and nauseating all the same.
Kristoff didn't believe this was happening, no...no, he wouldn't let whatever the fuck Hans was trying to do happen. He refused, he wouldn't let him do whatever the fuck he wanted to him.
He could beat him to a pulp, bleed him, cut him, but for the love of the gods, not this.
No, he refused.
Plain and simple.
Scrambling desperately as, with one of his free hands, he gripped Kristoff's hair, securing his head by a handful of his sweaty locks. and with his opposite, Kristoff's eyes widened as he pulled it closer to his swollen lips.
Closer, closer, still, until he, even when numb, felt the tip graze his mouth, and at once, he felt him thrash wildly, a fierce struggle that, despite his waning strength, was enough to throw off Hans' balance where he could squirm from beneath him, throwing himself away as far as he could and scrambling around the room as he tried to think about how he could get out of this hell hole. Standing up, despite being wobbly at first, the sheer force of the adrenaline of his veins was more than he needed to get him from the ground and to his feet. His frantic, brown eye scanned desperately around the room, searching, searching, for a way out.
'I have to get out of here. But how - ' Kristoff, only then, spotted the keys again, still, beckoning, from the hook that rested just behind Hans, and all the same, the key hole did as well, a godsend in the dark as his mind raced, a frantic race against the disparity before him.
The keys.
If he could just get a hold of them, and somehow...somehow unlock the door, then, he could get away! He would have to find a way out of the palace but...but he could get Sven and Anna and just...get out of here. He wasn't sure where they would go, or what they would do for money, or whether he'd be a wanted fugitive or...or...no, he could think of all of this later!
He just needed to get them out of here as fast as he could.
Staying here...staying here would be hell, and he wouldn't just...just go down without trying.
He had to try.
Hans wasn't far behind, his hardened flesh pulsing with need as he, despite the kindly voice that echoed softly around the cell, his face read as anything but, tracked him about the space with eyes that spoke anger.
"Don't make me hurt you, you fucking dirty, worthless, animal. I'm trying to make this easy, right? But you just have to - " Not even giving him the room to finish, Kristoff rushed him, hoping that he could use his strength to overpower him.
And for a moment, it seemed to work.
Pushing back against him, Kristoff managed to throw him back, tired arms straining to muster strength, but he managed to shove him into the opposite wall, ducking from his second attempt to grab at the man again as he weaved towards the door with surprisingly agility despite his size.
'Just need to keep him off of me...just so I can get to the door!' He voiced in his mind, effectively making it to the wood entrance, and grabbing the keys, Kristoff could feel his smile grow as he grabbed them in hand, and looking down, he felt his heart racing with relief as Hans had backed off it seemed, but he didn't bother looking back.
He was close to getting away.
He just had to -
His smile faded as his one, good eye gazed at the keys in his hand.
It had only just occurred to him...
Holding them in his hands, Kristoff couldn't move as he looked at the full ring of what must have been at least twenty keys...and he realized, with startling, terrifying clarity...
...that he didn't know which one unlocked the door.
He hadn't even considered that there might be more than one.
How could he be so stupid, right?
How could he have been so dense?
How?
'N-no...I...I have to find it...I just...' Scrambling to flip through each one, he tried to mark each one with his eye, his shaking hand unsteady as he gripped at a random one and tried to force it in, but it jammed. Huffing with frustration, Kristoff tried it a few more times.
The second didn't fit.
The third wouldn't turn.
All the while, his heart raced, a violent thrum that only matched the rush of blood that filled his ears...and made it difficult to hear the rummaging that was happening behind him. But he was too preoccupied with trying to find the key.
Over, and over, and over, and over, again, but each attempt, each key...only lent itself to another failure as he rushed to try another thereafter.
'Come on...p-please, come on...' He begged, though to who, he couldn't be sure.
This was a nightmare. This entire day, this entire experience...there was a desperation deeply set in his soul with each shaking attempt he made to unlock the door. Again, and again, again, his heart pattered, beating against the walls of his chest as the rummaging behind him stopped.
He missed the steps behind him.
He didn't notice the eyes, creeping low and silent in the dark.
He was too focused, too scared, too tired, too hurt...to allocate attention to it.
He missed it raise its arms in the air.
He missed their smile, his smile, gleaming with kind horror in the dark behind him.
Pulling the last key in the set and pushing it into the hole, Kristoff could have screamed with relief as it turned calling back with a satisfying click that made him shake with excitement.
He didn't even want to look back, knowing full-well that Hans could be right there, right behind him, but that didn't matter anymore! He was going to go get Anna, wherever she was, get Sven, and leave.
The three of them would be safe. The three of them could...move past this.
Things...would be okay.
Then just like that, just as the door had cracked up just a hair, Kristoff's head exploded and his vision scattered with stars as something was swung full-force into the side of his head with one, fell-swoop with a distinct crack.
Honestly, the man wasn't even sure what happened.
All he knew was pain.
Abject, unyielding, unforgiving...pain.
Kristoff could feel his world turn, twist, break into a dark place as his own eye stared through the crack in the door, the parted space that led out in the hallways a rescinded salvation as, with a light, almost insulting push relative to the energy that it took to get to the key and open the door, Kristoff didn't even have the capacity to make sense of the sensation of being dragged, more attuned, in the vaguest sense, to the rushing, pouring warmth that was seeping down the side of his face. Even more, he found, his ear hadn't stop ringing, and, with a sense of awareness, he realized...that he was bleeding there, too.
Something was...wrong.
His head...he couldn't...hear.
He couldn't -
"Now see? This is what happens when you don't listen, stupid. See what you made me do, hmm? Look at this mess! I was trying to make this easy for you but, since you want to do this the hard way...let me nip this right in the bud." Standing up again, Kristoff was having a hard time even...understanding what he was saying.
Everything just...hurt.
Everything was blurry.
Everything was loud, but quiet, and -
Then he screamed.
A guttural, broken sound as, over his own rushing heartbeat, Kristoff felt something crush his ankle, a dense, crude swing so swift and violent that by the time that the bone had been shattered, he could feel it being brought down again.
And again.
And again.
Yet all the while, Hans spoke, a tone like scolding, a tone like reprimanding, a juxtaposition to the misery that riddled every portion, every fiber, of his being.
"See? If you - CRACK- had just listened - CRACK- to what I told you - CRACK- then I wouldn't have had to - CRACK- do this. But you had to - CRACK- make this - CRACK- hard. But I'm the bad guy...right?" Hans spat, bringing what as in hand down enough times that Kristoff began feel something leak from the site, his skin weeping with a strange, warm fluid he couldn't name, his mind too fuzzy from the pain to give it credence.
But what he said lingered in mind.
It was his fault?
It was his fault that he didn't want to -
Kristoff could barely vocalize it, the feeling of his opposite ankle suffering the same fate.
In a way, he wished he would just go unconscious, the man realizing quickly, bleakly, that the keys were too far away.
It was strange.
He could hear object that had been used be dropped to the ground with a distinct clang, as if crafted, sealed, with metal, yet all the same, as he was pulled further and further from the door, he could still see the keys, left abandoned right at the foot of the entrance as, just as before, Hans crawled atop of him, cock primed and swollen with need as Kristoff clenched his remaining eye shut, knowing full-well that he wouldn't be able to close his mouth.
That he couldn't run.
That fighting would just make this harder.
Yet, just as this thought crossed his mind, Hans seemed to think largely the same thing, that cruel, empty look on his face as it morphed into something that he could recognize, and with a jolt, he immediately felt sick to his stomach at the sight of it.
Hans looked smug.
As if just looking down on him as Kristoff flinched at the resting flesh upon his swollen cheek, the growing shame that mounting as it rubbed against his face.
He refused to give him the satisfaction, he refused to -
"When you were fucking Anna...were your eyes closed then? Hmm? I'm sure you wanted to look at her as you defiled her...right?" Hans whispered, and at once, with sickening realization, Kristoff could feel his flesh enter his mouth, pressing against his damaged teeth and bloodied gums with little care that made the man groan in agony.
'E-endure it...just...don't think about...d-don't - ' Kristoff could have screamed as Hans took one of his hands and, with a fair bit of force, tried to get his distended jaw to close around his cock, the man's own matching grunts as he increased his pace matched in time with the former's muffled cries.
This was hell.
This...this was -
"Gods...who knew a man's mouth could be this...good? F-fuck..." Hans uttered between a moan, gripping Kristoff's wet, sticky locks with one hand as his thrusts became faster, pumping into the man's skull with enough force to cause his head to bob and smack into the ground in time, only adding, compiling, to the splitting headache that had increased, and decreased, in intensity, but now, it seemed, his head wouldn't stop throbbing, pulsing with vile anger even when he tried to squeeze his eyes against the pain.
Hans' words were...were worst than he could have ever imagined.
He felt disgusting.
Utterly, completely, unequivocally...disgusting.
He felt himself gag around it, retching sickeningly with each press to the back of his throat as Hans began to lose himself, the thrusts growing with each intensity to pair friction in the mix. He wanted to vomit, to eject that vague taste of salt on his tongue as he felt the man growing closer and closer.
He could feel it in the way his muscles tensed.
He could feel it in the way that his movements were becoming frantic, throttling his skull and tearing at the muscles at his neck with enough force that Kristoff felt his urge to scream grow.
Over.
He wanted just wanted it be over.
He just -
"Oh, come on ~hnnn - d-dog. We're not ~hgghh - finished...y-yet. F-fuck..." Hans spat, his blooming, red, euphoric face a revolting sight.
He didn't want to see the way his eyes rolled to the back of his head.
He didn't want hear the sound his hips hitting his face.
He didn't want to think about it.
'It would be over soon' He thought as his throat began to throb.
'It would be over soon.' He thought, biting back tears.
'It would be over soon.' He thought as his chest began to hurt.
It would be over soon...it would be over soon...it would be over soon...it would be over so -
"Fuck!" Hans whispered with relief. Kristoff felt something hot and salty scream down his throat and onto his tongue in a single rush that immediately gave him cause to vomit.
No.
Gods, no, not in his -
Struggling again, he wanted it out.
No, it was bad enough that he'd had to do...this, but to be forced to -
"Swallow it. Go ahead, rapist. Swallow. It." Hans spat at him, pulling his softening cock from his mouth, but Kristoff didn't move.
He couldn't...think.
No.
No, he didn't...he didn't want to -
He wouldn't be offered a choice as, despite the state of his mouth, Hans would cup his hands over it, and with his opposite one, he pinched his nostrils shut, and all at once, Kristoff realized with a start that he...couldn't breathe. Thrashing violently under his weight, though only so much as he couldn't move his ankles as much, the man struggled to take in any air at all as the bitterness on his tongue grew and the pain of his lungs did, too. Yet all the while, Hans only say before him, chuckling as he watched him fight desperately.
But it was funny.
No...it was hilarious.
Hilarious to see his face turn blue.
Hilarious to see his eyes run hot, burning, with tears.
Hear him try to scream but be unable to.
It was funny.
Funny.
FUNNY.
"I said...swallow it. If you do, I'll let you go. Come on, it's no fun if you pass out, stupid. Don't be such a pussy. Whore like cum, right? Because that's what you are; a raping whore. A sick, little fuck that likes to fuck virgins, so naturally...you like to be fucked, right? What's the difference?" He hummed with amusement, unrelenting even as Kristoff's vision began to darken.
It was...becoming harder to stay awake, harder to focus on what he was saying, but...but he knew he had to breathe soon. He was terrified to know what would happen if he went under, he didn't know...what would happen if he did. The last thing he needed was brain damage because he just...couldn't eat his pride.
That he chose to leave Anna and Sven behind because of something like...like this.
'Endure it...e-endure it...' His mind repeated, again and again and again.
Then once more...twice more...
He had to.
He had to do it.
He couldn't leave her, he had to try, he had to -
"Ah, 'atta boy! See now was that so hard, huh? Was it? Hell, the way you swallowed that down, you might get someone to think that you were good at it." Hans declared, and without another word, he finally let go, and all at once, Kristoff took in all the air that he could get, a desperate bid to reconcile the pressure of his lungs that had grown and agonized over the minute that he'd suffered it.
And immediately, no sooner that he could catch his breath, he was retching and vomiting all the same.
The sight was revolting.
He...Kristoff...was disgusting.
But no matter how many times he loosed the contents of his stomach, no matter how many times he tries to induce himself bring it back up again, he couldn't get rid of the taste, the sensation, the absolute disgust that echoed on his lips with new, fresh memory of the feeling that he tried to shut away. He was sure that if he could vocalize it, he would have called Hans every and each manner of name and expletive that there was to be called.
Yet, he knew that was beyond what he could do.
Right now, as he was left on the floor of the cell, all he had to his name, all he could manage to do, was glower weakly from the stone, to burn into Hans' flesh what his mouth couldn't, even though hazy visions, ringing ears...his mind was clear with bubbling revulsion that remained cruel and fresh in his mind.
Standing, Hans' weight was no longer on his arms, and with vengeance, they screamed at him, yelled and cursed with complaint for having been pinned for that long and with that much pressure. He didn't move them at first, breathless at the soreness and pain that he would surely have to deal with even after the prince was gone. But even more, as Hans began to redress and his appearance was falling back the pristine state that it had been before, as if none of what just happened had...happened, Kristoff's addled mind could only utter a single word.
Why?
Why was he doing this?
Why was he doing...any of this?
If he'd been in any state to ask...perhaps he would have.
That was what he wanted to know more than anything. There...had to be a reason for it.
For why he was destined to suffer.
For why Hans wanted to make...him...suffer.
Perhaps it was written on his face, the question, the yearning for answers, so much so that even a blind man could have seen as, with a turn, and an ever-present, even pitying smile doted on his lips, and kneeling down, his eyes shaded with mocking pity, as if gazing at a wounded, confused animal, Hans opened his mouth to speak.
- (Same time...) -
To be clear, Hans thought as he looked at the stupid and, funnier still, wounded and bewildered look on the other man's face, he was very picky when it came to where he stuck his cock. He was fickle with the notion of what he wanted to, abandoning all pretense here, fuck: his preference, up until fairly recently, had been just his hand, but to say that he was opened to world of new pleasure by using women to get that same high (if better), he wasn't against the idea of experimenting.
But see, the man thought as he kneeled down to meet Kristoff's single, swollen eyes, his own still blooming and rushing with orgasm from just a minute or so before, he could kindly assure himself that that...wasn't what this was. Gripping the man's hair again, he was growing certain of it, the quick reclamation of erection that settled in his loins when he watched the other man writhe slightly in his grip, the other's pain and the intensity of it controlled simply, completely, but how tightly he was willing to grab his hair.
And more importantly...what he was willing to do.
Yanking it back a few times, over and over as the man, his voice too spent and raw to even manage a whisper, flinched and hummed quieted complaint at he reached up with those boorish, dirty hands to his sleeve, as if in silenced request for him to let him go.
But that was just it.
Even if the idea of someone so low touching him bothered him, each yank, each pull, each grimace that other managed to make was only evidence to what he knew all along: he loved to see him squirm.
He loved to see him struggle.
He loved to see him in pain.
In fact, the prince hummed as he reached down with his opposite hand and stroking his hardening flash once more, that look. the flash of what he could only describe as fear on the other man's face on had the intensifying effect on him as he felt precum, again, collecting in his briefs.
He was getting hard just at the sight of it.
His fear, his confusion...this was what he lived to see.
This is what he lived to feel.
Breathing a sigh of both pleasure and relief, he felt his need growing, and he knew he couldn't go out there like this.
No...no, they weren't done.
He wasn't done with him yet.
Yanking harder on the man's hair, Kristoff looked like he would be throughly sick, though Hans wasn't sure if it was because of the pain...or what had just happened, but it didn't matter to him Hans didn't even consider it as he reached back into his pants, unbuckling them no sooner than he'd gotten himself together again to stroke himself, knowing now, more than ever, what was clear.
Hans wasn't naive to it, his...needs. He'd always likened himself to just being...particular. He needed to be sure, he knew, resting here at a kneel as he moaned through his teeth as the touch of his bloodied hands, that his body just seemed to react when others were...hurt. He could remember so many memories as a child, as teen, the strange sensation that echoed and called to him with violence as he saw the discomfort of others.
It gave him a rush.
It gave him power.
He loved it.
By the Gods, he loved every...fucking...second of it.
No, he didn't care much for having sex with men, no, but...he just wanted that feeling...that dynamic that made every cell in him scream with the desire to see just what he was right now.
The subjugation of another.
Taking Kristoff's wet, limp hands, the other man could only protest a bit before another yank of his. by now, absolutely throbbing head brought an end to the protesting movements he'd tried to make. Wasting no time, the prince, freeing himself from his trousers, thrusted slowly into the former's palm, grunting lowly as he dug his fingers into the man's scalp, eliciting the smallest of whimpers that only worked to increase his high.
He was right. He was absolutely right.
There was no way that he could get rid of this dog, this treasure trove of fucking pleasure, not when he was this close to cumming for the second time, and so soon, at that. Someone that he could do anything to, someone that he could just...just destroy.
God, the idea of it...the notion of it...it made him squirm so deeply with pleasure that he'd nearly missed Kristoff's hand as is thrusts became more animalistic.
More desperate.
In the simplest sense...this was what he would do with him.
When life above as the King and doting husband of Anna became too much...when he needed to undress himself and be what he needed to be...when his body called with need...this is what he would use him for.
He could have a pet to inflict all of it on.
He would be his pet.
"F-fuck...fuck...I'm...I'm going to - " Hans didn't make it to the end of the sentence as strings of white exploded from him in one big release, his last thrust sending his semen all over the former's palm and onto his clothes as he laid there, unable to move as his eyes were screwed shut against Hans...efforts. But with a tightening hand and clarity from his orgasm, Hans knew he wanted him to look.
He wanted the filthy, fucking peasant to see what he was...and what he would be.
This is what he was.
"No, no, I want you to look at what you did, dog. You don't like this? Look." He taunted, grabbing Kristoff's arm as seed dripped between the man's fingers. But when the man didn't listen, when he refused to open his eye, Hans grew impatient.
He was his pet.
Dogs did what he said.
He...didn't get to refuse this...he didn't get to refuse him.
It was just a good thing he liked when they struggled.
"I...Said...Look..." Thrusting it into Kristoff's face and with a scrape and dig onto the man's wounded, scabbing scalp, it was only a moment's time before his good eye cracked open, slowly taking in the sight of his defiled hand as he groaned softly through his agape mouth. That look, right there, the sickness, the hopelessness...that was what he needed.
This was what he lived for.
Even more when he could see his tears, streaming down his cheeks as he looked to Hans, pleading with his eyes alone, though...the prince didn't care for that.
He didn't give a fuck about any of that.
He only smiled, he only laughed, as he rubbing Kristoff's hand across his face, smearing drying seed on his ruined skin, leaving trails of white on his features. Even with his attempts to turn away, to stop him, where exactly was Kristoff supposed to go?
No, he could only lie there as Hans dropped Kristoff's arm, grinning through perfect teeth as he minded his handiwork with a gleaming look of pleasure. Standing up, he gazed at his handiwork: the ruination of Kristoff's face, the state of his jaw, his ankles, his...everything.
It was perfect.
And it was only the first day.
It was only the first day.
He was certain that if he didn't have other things to attend to, he would have surely stayed a...little while longer. As it stood, he wasn't ready to stop, in truth, but...there were things that still needed to be taken care of and...it wasn't as thought this oaf was really going anywhere.
No.
He would be right where he left him when everything was said and down, and whilst he waited for Anna to wake back up again...they'd have plenty of time to have their fun then.
He'd just have to be a little patient, that's all.
He'd just have to wait a little while.
Readjusting his clothes for the second time and smoothing back his, now, sweat-soaked hair, drawing it back into his neat, cropped style before he'd...handled this. It didn't take him long, and all the while, as he set about cleaning up the space, taking what had been a sledgehammer that was now, to match his boot, slathered with blood and sinew from his efforts before.
Picking it back up before, he didn't waste time placing it back over on the furthest wall, hanging it clear with the other, should he say, tools that hung just beside where it had been. Knives, pliers, picks...all manner of fun that he was sure that he and Kristoff would get the chance to play with when he got back.
Hell, he could hardly contain his excitement at the very thought of it, and quickly, he realized, his excitement was cause for another erection, a frequent occurrence, he found, but this time, he couldn't act on it. No, this time...he had somewhere be.
Walking back over to Kristoff, the man had, at the very least, managed to pull himself from the ground, and, with a look that spelled fear, he tried to back away, to get further from Hans, though, noting the absolute destruction of his ankle, the best that he could do right now was try to drag himself away, which only functioned to excite him more.
But he had to focus now.
They could play later.
Rolling his eyes, he stepped over to Kristoff and, with a single hand, again, pulled at his hair, eliciting a small, dry whimper from his throat as he was pulled over to the opposite wall, relishing the light, exhausted struggles of the former as he brought him to the surface of the stone and pressed his head against it, just to the confusion of the other as Hans used his other hand to grasp at what could only be described as a hooked necklace, hanging solemnly to the side before his careful hands strung it from the wall.
Unlatching the clip, and taking it around Kristoff's throat, he was swift, working quickly to secure the collar around his throat and, no sooner than that, he clamped it shut with a loud click, and with a panic, Kristoff tried to struggled against its cold fingers, gripping the edges of it quickly, desperately, as he tried to work it off of him, but alas, it was no use. Of course, Hans didn't expect a dunce like him to get the memo initially, and in the midst of his panic, he took the key to the collar from the shared wall where it had been, stashing it carefully in his pocket before stepping back to admire his handiwork.
Having released the man, Kristoff fell short of the wall, and watching as the man's eyes traveled up the short, chain-link lead that remained fastened to the wall, the situation was quickly dawning on Kristoff with horrid realization that Hans couldn't get enough of seeing.
Grinning, he nodded, gesturing to his collar and lead with a slight, swift hand, as if relenting to the situation with helpless resignation.
"Can't have you trying to, you know, trying to get away and everything. That wouldn't be any fun, would it?' He hummed in a doting voice, reaching down to pat the man's loose, swelling jaw with a harsh tap that only sought to worsen the pain behind his eyes as he recoiled from his touch, and already, he noted...he was becoming afraid of him.
And the thought, the notion...made his warm.
It made him smile.
Without another word, he stood, and with a final tug of his clothes and a snuffing of the lantern in the furthest corner, he made his way towards the door, but turning back, his smiling falling away, he spared just another, voice solemn with accusation as he regarded the man just once more before reaching down to grab the keys that had been strewn away during their struggle before.
"This is right where you belong. Monsters like you...should be punished for what they do, don't you agree? Take comfort in the silence for now as, after today...this is the rest of your life. This is your eternity, dog, so take comfort in this fleeting peace...because this is the last you'll ever have of it." At his words, he didn't acknowledge him a moment later, and, snuffing out the candle of the room, he left Kristoff plunged in a perverse dark before shutting the door behind him.
And like that...he was off to see just one last person before the time came for the story to be set in stone.
He was off to speak to the queen.