#john ferrick is hot but confusing for connor okay

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Hii love your work!! I was wondering if there was like a connor/ferrick masterlist?? tag?? thanks❤️

Nope, no masterlist for those pieces! Pretty much just have to scroll tags. I've tagged this post with the tags I use for those works to make it a bit easier! @moose-teeth also has pieces on her blog.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Whumptober Day 4: Caged

CW: Referenced whump of a minor (sorry, Trainee!Chris), brief implied noncon of a minor reference, noncon touching (of adult), referenced pet whump, referenced bruising, referenced dubcon/noncon of adult

John Ferrick and B (referenced, unnamed) belong to @moose-teeth and is used with permission

“Hey, Manning, look at this.” Luke waggled his phone - standard company-issue, big enough to be more a tablet than a fucking communication device, but the company paid, and they didn’t care if Luke had a few game apps installed on the side. 

Connor glanced up from his own lunch, where he was picking at “shrimp fettuccine alfredo”, which at least got the pasta and sauce right, but contained the three smallest shrimps that Luke Petrus had ever seen. A side salad, some garlic bread, and Connor’s usual bottle of made-at-home iced coffee completed the meal.

This was why Luke volunteered for overnight multi-day shifts and got to have his little studio apartment down in the long-term halls. He ate whatever the fuck he wanted. Which, granted, was mostly nachos and cups of soup, but the point still stood. 

“What is it, Petrus?” Connor sounded bored, but he mostly sounded like that all the time these days. Moping around like he had a stick up his ass, and Petrus kind of missed the fun Connor Manning, but whatever. Some of the handlers got that way after a while, and they’d cycle through the fucking mopery and come out the other side, in the end.

Or they’d quit.

Or pop up in a white shirt and shorts.

“Look at the stupid shit my trainee’s doing right now.”

Connor didn’t even perk up a little at that, and his eyes shifted away, looking across the bustling cafeteria, eyebrows furrowing just a little. Petrus shifted in his seat and turned to look as well - he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, just a few handlers and Ferrick from Acquisitions in line for lunch. He sighed and turned back. 

“Come on, Manning, try to look like you have a well-paying job with great benefits for five minutes, huh?”

Connor blinked, looking back at him. “Uh, yeah. Right. Sorry. I’m just…” He waved his fork near his head in a vague gesture. “Not having the best week.” He shifted a little uncomfortably in his seat. “What did you want to show me?”

Luke grinned, flashing bright teeth. “My trainee. Look at him.” He handed over the phone, pulled up to a live view from the camera installed in the corner of the ceiling of his current favorite trainee’s room.

Connor’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “Fuck, this is one of the underagers. You know I hate that shit, Petrus. Fucking sick.” He handed the phone back over, but Petrus only pushed it back.

“Nah, forget about that. Just look at what he’s doing.”

The short little trainee, drowning in the white t-shirt and black shorts, and with his shock collar cutting apart the pretty line of his neck, was pacing. 

His coppery hair shifted in the constant cold air blowing into the room from unseen vents as he moved - a few steps from end to end and back again, over and over, stepping one foot carefully in front of the other, heel-to-toe, heel-to-toe. There was no sound to the video, but Petrus knew if there was, the boy would be counting, one step two step three step four step, in his low voice, stammering through the words. 

The stammer was cute, but he’d get rid of it before the prospective took him home.

The trainee turned and walked back the way he’d just come, toe-to-heel-to-toe-to-heel, until he hit the wall again. Then turned around and repeated it. Covering every single inch of tile along the floor, from one side of the tiny room to the other, before he started it all over again. His hands were twisted into his shirt, kneading and pulling at the thin cotton. His head jerked to the side on occasion, bumping into the wall, in a rhythm only he understood. 

Petrus snorted, while Connor only looked at it, almost blankly. “Pacing like a fucking tiger at the zoo in his little cage.” Luke’s voice dipped into affectionate warmth. “He’s gorgeous, right? Pretty little thing, now that I fixed his little defiance problem, and so eager to-”

“Stop.” Connor snorted, jabbing his fork back into his pasta.

“You can’t tell me he doesn’t look good like that.”

“He looks like a fucking teenager, and I stopped thinking high schoolers looked good when I stopped fucking being one, you perverted piece of shit. On the outside, someone like you would be in prison.”

“Oh, and you wouldn’t, you fucking rapist?”

Connor sat back, pale except for bright red spots on his cheeks. “Yeah. Yeah, okay, good point. Maybe we should all be in prison.”

“Manning, that isn’t… Jesus.” Luke sat back, staring slightly wide-eyed, caught off-guard. “I just don’t see why you give a fuck if he’s under eighteen.”

Connor glanced up, and there was a weird spark of anger in his dark eyes that made Luke oddly uneasy. “Because I don’t go for that, and you know it. When I was-… it doesn’t matter.”

“You’re right, it doesn’t. 499’s got energy like you wouldn’t believe, you’re missing out. Although it’s a pity watching him wear himself out. Hate to let him get it out in there when he could be using it correctly on my training table.”

Connor handed the phone back over, shrugging, his eyes back on the line over on the other side of the room and not on Luke at all. “Then go fucking train him, Luke. Stop showing me underagers, you know I hate that shit. I don’t think we should do that, I don’t want shit to do with it. The Director made a monster fucking decision and-”

Luke leaned forward, voice dropping into a hissed whisper. “Jesus Christ, Manning, shut the fuck up, you know it gets back to her when you talk shit about her ideas. She was the one to introduce the program-”

“And it was gross, and a fucking mistake. Gross as fuck.”

“Oh, like you’re so fucking innocent. Sanctimonious asshole.” Luke pocketed his phone, swallowing against a mix of defensiveness and residual unease. “Keep your holier-than-thou shit to yourself if you know what’s good for you.”

“I don’t give a fuck who hears me, let them go pass it along to the Director. I don’t give a fuck. All of this… no. I don’t care about it anymore. I just… I just don’t.”

“Then quit. It’s a free fuckin’ country - leave if you hate your job so much.”

“Yeah, I fuckin’ well will.”

“When?”

Connor’s anger died, all at once, and Luke was struck by how much he looked like one of the pets, in that moment - haunted and uncertain. Luke wondered what the fuck was wrong with him these days. Connor had been a top handler once, always cheerful, always smiling - now he was calling in sick all the time, acting like this in public where anyone could see him do it… criticizing the Director, for Christ’s sake. 

“As soon as I can,” Connor said, in a low voice. “As soon as I fucking can. As soon as he’ll sign off on my baby.”

“Your what-”

“Don’t make me look at that poor kid again, Luke.”

“That poor-… he’s a fucking pet like the rest of them, Manning. You should talk to the company therapist or something if you’re feeling like this.”

“And have the Head of Training Operations hear about my fucking feelings? No fucking thanks, Luke.”

“Yeah, well. I’m going to go wear the shit out of that trainee. Get your fucking head on straight, Manning, before someone important notices it’s crooked.” Luke pushed himself to his feet, thumb rubbing over the camouflage phone case, frowning in thought as he walked away.

John Ferrick’s lunch tray dropped onto the table next to Connor with a clatter and Connor jumped, keeping his eyes down, red flaring in his face. “What the fuck was that, Manning? You and Petrus don’t chitchat.”

“He wanted to show me his fucking trainee. You know how he is.” Connor picked at his food, not looking up as Ferrick settled himself comfortably into the seat next to him. He tensed when Ferrick’s hand slid over his thigh, rubbing into the inside through the fabric of his work pants. “Ferrick, stop it-”

“Try again,” Ferrick said, smugly, sliding his hand up even higher, pressing hard into just the right-

Connor hissed through his teeth as Ferrick’s thumb pressed into a bruising set of teeth marks. “Shit. Fuck, Ferrick-”

“What, already? I didn’t wear you out during our ‘poker game’ last night?” Ferrick began to rub in circles over the bruise, around and around the spaces where his own teeth had dug so deeply into Connor’s skin that you could probably use dental records to identify who did it. “You want me to stop, use your fuckin’ manners.”

Connor’s teeth ground together audibly. “Please stop, sir,” He managed to spit out, barely moving his lips, in a whisper.

Ferrick’s hand shifted back to pick up his own little plastic fork. He’d chosen the vegetarian option, black bean cakes with salsa and sour cream, and hummed happily. One of his favorite cafeteria meals, really. “Better. Maybe I’ll let you see your dog later, if you keep being so polite.”

“I can’t wait until he’s ready so I can tell you to fuck off as I drive the fuck away,” Connor muttered. 

Ferrick just smiled. “You’re not going anywhere until I’m damn good and ready to let you go, Manning, and you know it. Not if you don’t want me to declare your fucking dog too broken to be fixed… or let the Director know about your hot little pain problem.”

Connor swallowed, and honestly… he wished he could start pacing right now, too.

There was more than one way to be caged.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

The pain serum lasted for three *hours*? Holy shit?! Please give Chris a hug for me?! And okay, if I'm not remembering wrong doesn't Ferrick play with some of the injectables on Connor, including the pain serum? Because if so, that man is more of a cruel bastard than I could have ever imagined.

He does! @moose-teeth's John Ferrick tries out lots of fun things on Connor. They discover that a full dose of pain serum overrides his nerves and actually does become agonizing. But low doses can be used on him very much like the aphrodisiac.

Connor does not appreciate these discoveries.

Ferrick sure does, though.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Connor's teeth grind at the sight on Ferrick's laptop screen. He doesn't flinch at the recorded sound of the whip cracking against his skin, but he feels the healing wounds start to itch under the bandages Ferrick had insisted on applying.

He swallows as the sound of the whip is joined by his own voice, ragged and hoarse and slurred from the drugs, begging Ferrick to fuck him.

"Yes, sir," He mutters, eyes down. "A few more months it is."

Connor, go tell John Ferrick exactly what you think he is and to go fuck himself. Come on, you know you want to.

Connor clears his throat, face paling as he adjusts his uniform nervously. He knocks on Ferrick's office door and when he is told to enter, he stalks across the room without looking up until he stands right in front of the other man.

"You're fucking confusing and I hate you," He snaps, covering fear with overdone bravado. Any moment now he knows Ferrick will react. "You're about as straight as I am and Flick deserves better. Go fuck yourself, you son of a fucking bitch."

He takes a breath, and wishes he could sink into the floor and disappear.

@moose-teeth owns John Ferrick

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Ferrick moved over to a cabinet, ripping open a syringe and drawing liquid into it from a vial. “I’ve been wanting to test you on this for a while...”

"H-hey, wait a second-" Connor jerked on the restraints again, pressing his back into the center of the cross, eyes widening. "Wait, we never-... we don't bring the injectables into this!"

“I don’t recall agreeing to that.” Ferrick said, his whip coiled on the floor now as he opened up an alcohol wipe and wiped it over the inside of Connor’s elbow. 

“You should really be thanking me for this.” He said, moving his thumb over to find the vein and sticking the needle in. “You’re forgetting that I’m in charge here.”

Connor swallowed, hard, knowing it was pointless to try and jerk his elbow away even as he barely managed to stop himself from trying anyway. 

 Still his arm twitched when the needle went in, a soft, barely-there flash of ache that sent a tiny spark between his legs. 

 "Ferrick, this is over the fucking line, this-... shit that's fucking cold!" 

 It was. It felt like pure ice at first, spreading through his veins, and Connor shook at the unfamiliar sense of a pain that couldn't be made pleasurable. In the wave of ice, though, came a sense of growing heat. 

Connor looked at Ferrick with something like a snarl, but real nervousness was in his dark eyes as the heat found its way deep into his pelvis and began to coil there, growing and growing. "You son of a bitch-"

Did you plan on writing anything about the time Ferrick and Conner spent together?

*laughs nervously* what do you mean *shoves RPs with @moose-teeth under the bed* I would never do that to Connor