dreaming-of-the-night - Tumblr blog

dreaming-of-the-night · 7 months ago

Text

Secrecy: The Bottle

cw: explicit noncon, interrogation, death mention, future torture, manhandling, creepy whumper, significant age gap

• • •

Ander was in trouble. Well, he'd already been in trouble the moment he got caught, but only now, a full day after his capture, was the full gravity of the situation setting in. Spying wasn't all fun and games, and getting away wouldn't be as easy as he'd always believed.

Ander had been a spy for… somewhat less than a year now. Recruited from his junior year of college by a mysterious rich man, put through several exciting weeks of training, and taught how to gather secrets; it was more than he would've hoped to find in a job. Tom Beck was a good boss. He paid well, was generally cheerful, and cared a lot about his team. Ander had already run a few small missions for him, but this had been his first time trying to play with the big boys.

It was also the first time things had really gone south.

He'd been sent to spy on one of Tom's rivals, someone who'd been suspected of stealing company secrets. Not even a day in, he'd been ambushed out of nowhere, and now he was locked up in a small, windowless room that might've once been someone's office.

Aside from the few bruises he'd gotten during capture, he wasn't hurt, and though he hadn't been given food, the hunger was more an annoyance than a pain. All things considered, his situation wasn't all that bad, but he couldn't shake a feeling of unease. It didn't take a genius to know that it was because of the shelf.

After being dragged into the room, Ander had been tied to a chair and left there overnight, but not before a quick talking to from his captor, a middle-aged man who looked fifty but moved like he was twenty and only identified himself as Shepard.

"Ten days," he'd said. "That's how long you'll have to tell me what I want to know. And every day you don't," he tapped the then-empty bookshelf, "we'll have something new to play with. Alright?"

Ander had said nothing. He wasn't sure what to expect, what exactly Shepard meant by 'something new to play with'. There was nothing there. Unless his captor intended to break the shelf into planks and beat him with them?

"What I want to know is simple," Shepard had continued. "Just three little things. One, what organization do you work for? Two, what is your mission here? And three, what is the name of your boss? You do have the option to tell me now, you know. Before I get… creative."

In the training he'd received, Ander had been told about what could happen if he got caught. He'd even run through a few interrogation simulations, coming out on top every time. This had been bound to happen someday in his line of work, and Ander was determined to remember his training. Besides, Tom had always said that if a mission was compromised, every effort would be made to stage a rescue. He just had to hold out until that could happen. He couldn't let his people down.

After a long moment's silence, Shepard had shrugged.

"Suit yourself."

When he'd left the room, Ander assumed that was the end of it. Tomorrow, he'd send in an interrogator, and Ander would weather whatever methods were used until someone came to save him. But Shepard had returned, and Ander could only watch with a growing sense of unease as he began to fill the empty bookshelf.

"These next few days will happen in a certain order," he'd explained. "Left to right, top to bottom. Something new every day, until you elect to give me what I want." He'd smiled after placing the last item on the bottom shelf, a thick-bladed hunting knife.

"We'll have fun."

Now awake and feeling a lot less optimistic and a lot more stiff, Ander was staring at the shelves. Of the items Shepard had laid out, some were obvious in their use, while others confused him.

Day one, today, was a small bottle. Ander could only guess at its contents, but it was probably some kind of drug. Not a bad starting place for someone trying to get information, but he certainly wasn't looking forward to learning its effects firsthand. Tomorrow's was a little more straightforward; a taser. As much as he hated being shocked, Ander had taken it once before in training, and knew what to expect. The next day, however, perplexed him. It was a single D-Cell battery. How was that supposed to hurt him? Had it only been put there to cause confusion?

There were similarly odd items: a small metallic half-circle that looked like it might be electronic, a collection of thin leathery straps, and a small pile of metal baubles.

Then there were more standard things: a rope, a switch, a syringe, and of course, the knife. All things he could understand and prepare for, as unpleasant as they may be. He'd never been strangled or anything, never been beaten with a switch, but how bad could it really be? Just the fear of not being able to breathe, right? And the switch would hurt, just like the taser, but it wouldn't be permanent. He'd just suffer through it and heal, like he had when he'd broken his arm in high school.

Nothing was as bad as it could be. Ander didn't see a blowtorch, or any kind of power tools. Nothing that would cause lasting damage, aside from the knife, and since Shepard claimed he only needed the ten days, Ander guessed the knife was for killing him. Strangely, he didn't feel any sort of panic about the notion. His team would save him by then, right? Either that, or he'd find a way to escape. Day ten didn't matter. What mattered was holding out against the rest of Shepard's bright ideas.

There was a click on the other side of the door, and as the handle turned, a chill ran through Ander's body. No matter how fearless he told himself he was, waiting for whatever Shepard was going to do to him was pretty scary. He wasn't sure if it was for better or for worse that he knew what torments lay ahead of him. Surely it was better? Not knowing what came next would only scare him more, right?

Besides, today was just… whatever was in that bottle. It couldn't be that bad. Maybe it was just some supposed 'truth serum' that would loosen him up a bit.

As Shepard's silhouette filled the door, dressed in a black business-style suit, Ander felt himself relax just a little bit more. Why would Shepard dress up if things were going to get messy? All he had to do was get through whatever the drugs would do to him, and he was done for the day. As for tomorrow… well, he'd just worry about that tomorrow.

The older man paused in his walk to the shelf, smiling down at Ander in a way that almost seemed friendly. "Well, seeing as it is a new day, I suppose I'll give you a chance before we get to business," he said. "Are you ready to answer my questions?"

Ander shook his head, holding his chin high. Whatever was in that bottle, he could take it. It would take more than that to make him betray his team, betray Tom.

"Alright," Shepard said, not sounding all that disappointed as he reached for the bottle. In spite of being tied to a chair, with no real power here, Shepard's casual manner was starting to put Ander at ease. He didn't seem sadistic in any way, and hadn't shown any hints of violence, or even anger, yet. Of course, Ander knew he had to be wary of getting too friendly with his enemy, but why not take advantage of a captor who was kind of…nice?

Shepard moved beside him. "I'm going to untie you from the chair. Your wrists will still be bound though, so I'd avoid trying to run if I were you."

Ander nodded this time, seeing the reason there. Maybe if he did everything Shepard wanted today, the other man would let down his guard tomorrow. If he weakened the ropes enough, maybe he could snap them and escape during the next round of questioning. No doubt it would impress Tom if he made it out without having to wait for a rescue mission.

He held still as Shepard cut through the rope that wound around his chest and shoulders, not trying to fight it whatsoever when the other man moved downwards, gently pulling his ankles apart and tying one to each of the chair's front legs. It seemed like an odd choice, but he sorta understood it. If he got sick from the drugs, it would be easier if he could lean forward in the chair, and not throw up all over himself.

Everything was making sense until Shepard suddenly grabbed the chair and shoved it forward, sending Ander crashing to the floor, unable to soften his fall with his arms tied behind his back.

He bit back a yelp as he hit the ground. "Hey! w-what–?"

"Sh. Try to relax. Frankly, I don't care if you do or don't, but it will make things easier for you."

"Easier?"

"Easier." Shepard knelt beside Ander, placing a palm on his lower back to keep him still. "If you fight me, I will hurt you," he said, and his voice was still so friendly, so calm.

Ander was nothing short of confused. Fight what? Hadn't he been acting exactly as the other man wanted? What was this all about? But then Shepard set the little bottle, today's tool, beside him, just close enough that Ander could read it, and everything clicked.

It wasn't a drug.

It was lube.

"No," he whispered, tensing under Shepard's hand. "No, no, no, what are you—?"

"Shhh. I'll be as gentle as you let me."

Ander squirmed as Shepard's free hand moved underneath him, unbuttoning his pants, pushing them down to his knees. As two fingers hooked onto the hem of his boxers, panic overtook reason and Ander jerked forward, trying to shake him off, then, when that didn't work, he curled his legs in an effort to hit Shepard with the chair.

His captor effortlessly dodged the clumsy blow, pushing the chair back down and dropping a knee into Ander's calf. He winced at the sudden pressure, trying to curl his legs again and failing against Shepard's added weight.

"I told you—"

"Please—"

"I'll give you another chance, boy. Hold still, or I'll make this hurt."

Nononono… Ander gulped down air, trying to get ahold of his own fear. Would it be worth it to try? To fight?

Shepard's hand again moved to his boxers, tugging them down, exposing Ander's ass to the air of the room. It wasn't all that cold, but his skin was still prickling.

If he told him everything, would Shepard stop?

Even just thinking it felt like a betrayal. He could never give up Tom and Monty and Sen and all the other agents, but to have the idea dangled in front of him, a potential escape from what was about to happen, and to not reach out and grab it like a lifeline, was unbearable.

He squeezed his eyes shut as the other man cupped his ass, seemingly content to prod and fondle for a moment, then pushed his legs apart.

There was the plastic click of a cap being removed, and then Shepard's thumb was at his hole, dabbing the cold slick of the lube onto it. Ander tensed as he rubbed in small, gentle circles, the pressure gradually increasing as he went. It felt so wrong, invasive and humiliating, but there was nothing he could do about it that wouldn't make things worse.

"Relax. I'll make this feel good, but you have to allow it. Mhm?"

"Please don't…"

"You're starting to sound like a broken record, little spy. I said, mhm?"

Tears burned Ander's eyes as he replied with a choked, "Mhm."

"Good, good." His thumb pushed in, and Ander yelped. It couldn't be more than just the first knuckle and it was already too much, continuing the small circling from inside him, making him shudder with an unpleasant anticipation of what would surely follow.

Shepard took his time. When his thumb had worn its path, it retreated. There was another plastic click, and then it was replaced by a finger, then two. First just that awful circling, easing past the ring of muscle that wanted so badly to keep them out. When the fingers curled in for the first time, they struck something inside him that made him shudder again, and this time it wasn't from fear.

Shepard must've heard the gasp Ander let out, pausing in his rhythm, then pushing back in suddenly, hitting the same spot. Then again, and again.

Each little stroke was like light flashing in his core, behind his eyes, every burst of it making it impossible to fear for just a split second, even if that fear came back stronger and sicker the moment the light faded.

Shepard hushed him all the way through it, voice gentle as his fingers pumped away inside Ander, getting faster and faster, hitting that same damn spot over and over again until he was writhing against his restraints, panting.

"Not so bad, is it?" Even through his haze, Ander could hear Shepard's voice getting thicker, enunciation blunted by lust. The fingers withdrew from him, the sound of a belt buckle and shifting fabric behind him as potent as a gun being racked.

Something warm and heavy was laid on his ass, as if sizing him up, and Ander knew what it was, but his mind refused to name it, refused to make the connection until it was gone, and Shepard's weight was shifting, kicking his legs further apart.

Plastic click, and then the head of Shepard's cock was against his hole, slick with lube.

With nothing to bite down on, to scream into, Ander buried his teeth in his bottom lip, fists clenching at nothing but his own flesh as Shepard slowly, slowly pushed into him.

Every second was worse than the last, with Ander feeling he couldn't possibly take any more, that something inside him was about to split open, only to be proven wrong.

Just when it was getting hard to even breathe, Shepard stopped, and just sat there, buried deep inside him. Like he was giving him time to adjust to the intrusion, as if he could ever—

Shepard began to thrust, a gentle out and in and out and in, and Ander cried out, his legs jerking reflexively.

"G-good boy," Shepard breathed, moving his hands to Ander's hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh there. He started to pick up the pace, from the gradual drag that felt like it was scraping away Ander's insides to a rhythm that was almost like a heartbeat. Every inward thrust pushed a bright pain through Ander, until the man's cock somehow reached the same spot his fingers had found, and the pain was mixed with something far brighter.

The spike of pleasure shot through his core, cutting through the horrible stretching feeling, the unbearable pressure on the muscles inside him, if only for an instant. When Ander exhaled, some of his voice left with his breath, and he felt Shepard grip him tighter.

The thrusts were coming too quickly for Ander to catch a thought. He couldn't give up the information if he wanted to, his consciousness was trapped in a mire of pain, pushed this way and that by the sudden, intense pleasure that Shepard drove through him. Any words he could've used to stop this were turned into moans or whimpers or pleas the second he opened his mouth, and they only seemed to egg Shepard on.

"Suh-st—ah!"

"Shhh."

"Please—"

"Nearly— done—"

His body shuddered as Shepard gave a final, deep thrust, holding Ander there as a strange heat spilled into him. When the other man pulled out, some of the heat followed him, dripping onto Ander's ass and the backs of his thighs.

"Not all that bad, hm?" Shepard said, leaning forward to ruffle his hair. "You did good."

Ander didn't feel like he'd done anything but lay there and take it, not even trying to fight after the first warning. And maybe that had been the smart thing, maybe it would save him from getting killed, but it still made him feel gross. Like he'd just… let it happen. Hadn't he? Hadn't he given up on fighting a little too fast, cowed into submission by the threat of pain? He knew it wasn't really his choice, his fault, but he still felt all kinds of wrong about it.

But he hadn't given up the information. He hadn't sold out his team. It was the one thing he could cling to as he lay there, stuck with the deep, throbbing ache Shepard had left behind.

His captor disappeared, coming back with a washcloth, but even with the door wide open, Ander didn't try to move. Even just a slight shift of his leg sent a new ripple of pain through his core.

Shepard set about cleaning him up, and Ander stayed silent and motionless, willing himself to forget what had just happened.

I didn't sell them out.

The warm, wet cloth rubbed circles into his ass, just like—

I'm good. I'm a good spy. I didn't sell them out.

Shepard finished, putting the chair back upright and easily lifting Ander onto it, then re-tying the ropes that kept him in place.

I won't betray them.

"That's enough for one day," Shepard said. "Of course, I have plans for tomorrow, so get some rest."

Ander's eyes went to the shelf at his words. Tomorrow. Taser. That… that would be better than today's. It would hurt, but the memory wouldn't cling to his body the same way. He shifted in the chair, unable to find a way to make his own weight hurt less. Seeming to realize he wasn't going to say anything else, Shepard left, locking the door behind him.

Today was over. Ander was trapped with its pain, unable to get the sound of his own stupid moans out of his head, but it was over. One step closer to being rescued; all he had to do was give it time, hold out.

Just a few more days, and he could forget all about this.

• • •

137 notes · View notes