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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 7 months ago

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Two of a Kind 7

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NO TAGS. Don't ask.

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; manipulation; criminal behaviour; cumplay/creampie, talk of contraception; written for smut, just being honest. Not all elements will be tagged/warned.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. It features dark!Ransom Drysdale and dark!Modern Charles Blackwood. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: Ransom and Charles are partner’s in crime but they’re looking for some pleasure after years of business.

Note: :)

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya.

Charles helps the girl stand. She's shaking like a leaf as she covers her stomach with her free arm. She tries to hide her vee behind her hand as she leans on him heavily. The feel of her trembling makes his dick twitch.

"Should just drive her home," Ransom speaks around the stogie.

"You're always such a prick," Charles chuckles. He knows Ransom just likes to see the girls squirm. "Come on, baby, nice hot bath for you since you did so good."

"Since you're so fucking tight," Ransom sneers.

She sniffles as Charles slings his arm under hers and leads her past the shameless man puffing grey smoke into the air, "I told you not to do that inside."

"I opened a window."

Charles issues him a dull look and a shake of the head as he continues past. She leans into him as her feet slap on the floor clumsily. If he wasn’t holding onto her, she’d collapse. He can tell. She’s weak. It’s getting him going again.

He brings her into the bathroom as she murmurs, her head lolling forward. Fuck he is goddamn hard again. Twice already and he’s ready to blow. He’s no underperformer but he can’t remember the last time he was like this. Insatiable, as many described him in most matters.

He flips up the toilet lid around her and sits her down. He pets her head as she slumps.

“You should go, clear everything out or you might get an infection,” he lets his fingers drag over her shoulder, “we don’t want that, do we?”

She nods, he thinks. She’s half-bent over her lap as she grips her head. As the soft trickle hits the toilet seat, she sinks further into shame. As drunk as she is, she’s still self-conscious. Even after he was just in her guts.

Stop. He looks down at his bobbing dick. It’s starting to fucking hurt and his head isn’t making it any better.

He goes to the tub and cranks on the four-pronged faucets. The house is not the nicest place he’s been in but he likes the bathroom. Deep tub, lots of counter space, big mirrors. He glances over his shoulder at the mirrors the cover the expanse of one wall above the floating counter. He could fuck her in front of them, make her watch herself.

Later. He has to reprimand himself as he did Ransom. Don’t wanna break the girl. Not yet.

He puts the stopper in place and stands. He goes to her and helps her up, pausing to flush the toilet behind her. He as good as carries her to the tub and lifts her over the edge. He reclines her against the back and she stares up with glassy eyes.

He stands and watches her. She suddenly spasms as a sob erupts from her. She gulps as the tears spring forth and she blather uncontrollably. He touches her shoulder. It’s the alcohol, it makes everything feel much more intense.

“Shh, baby, you’re alright,” he comforts.

Her eyes drift over then fall down to his pulsing erection. He’s suddenly very self-aware as his tip presses to his stomach. He stands straight as she shields herself with a weak hand.

“I can’t... please, no more,” she begs.

"Shh, honey," he coos, the pet name surprising even him. She just seems so pathetic.

He backs up and grabs a towel. He covers himself and nears the tub once more. Maybe it was a bit too much. Well, she's fucked up enough it won't be that bad in the morning.

"Do you like tea?" He asks. She nods and wipes her face. "Alright, I'll get you some."

He retreats and stops at the door, glancing back at her. Hm.

"Ransom!" He hollers as he comes out into the hall, "get your ass in here."

The other man appears at the end of the hall and struts down in a pair of silk boxers. He could roll his eyes at him. Sometimes he thinks he's working with a moron. Well, the man would be an easy mark, especially with his grandfather's legacy. Not the time, Charles.

"Keep an eye on her so she doesn't go under." Ransom scoffs as he approaches, "fucked her silly."

"Sure," he taps Ransom's arm with his knuckles. "The last thing we need is a dead girl."

"Mm, nope, she's lively, huh? The way she whined..."

Charles clears his throat as his balls ache, "yeah. Anyway, watch her, will ya?"

Ransom clucks but steps into the doorway. He leans on the frame and narrows his eyes at the girl, his hand going to his hip. That's the biggest problem. Ransom doesn't know when to stop.

"Just watch," Charles warns, "she's had enough."

"Man, I think she had enough at the first knuckle," Ransom brings his fingers up to sniff, "didn't stop us before."

"Hey, we didn't put in all this work for one night, alright? I don't got the energy and I know you don't either," Charles huffs, "you wanna keep buying bimbos drinks down at Lights? No. We get her on lock and it's easy. Stress relief."

Ransom snickers and peers at the girl again, "she is fucking... tight."

"Hm, yeah," he agrees. "I'll be back."

Charles goes to the kitchen and sighs. Goddamn he is hard. He can hardly remember what he was doing.

Tea. Right. Yeah. It'll calm her down. If they even have any.

👄

You shiver as the cool air tingles over your shoulders. The hot water contrasts the chill as you languish in the deep tub. You stare at the ceiling, vaguely aware of voices, filled with dread at what they'll do next.

A shadow moves into the room and you look over warily. It's Ransom. He leans on the counter as he watches you. You stare back, waiting for it, bracing for more pain. He doesn't move.

"Consider yourself lucky, babe," he chuckles, "not a lot of girls pop their cherry on something that big." You tremble and turn forward, embarrassed. "I know it's huge, the way you were squirming, but you're also..." he makes a sucking noise, "tight as shit."

"Why... why are you doing this?" You sniffle.

"Babe, babe, why did I choose you? Why did I spend my money, my time on a girl no one gives a second look to? Huh. You should be thanking me," he sneers, "and what do you got now? All the sweet little act means nothing if you're not a virgin. You're just another slut now."

"No," you shake your head and sit up, hiding your face. "I'm not--"

"You are. You just took two men at once. Who the fuck does that but a slut like you? But babe, we don't gotta throw you out. Not if you keep being a good little slut for us. I mean," he nears the side of the tub, "no one else is gonna want a used hole."

You whimper and hang your head, folding your arms over it as you bend your knees under your elbow. He's right. You're used and dirty. You hear another set of footsteps and another shadow darkens the edge of your vision. Ransom backs up and snorts.

"What's going on?" Charles asks.

"Nothing, we were just talking," Ransom says, "she was just saying how much fun she had."

Charles clucks as you frown and lift your head. The brunette shoulders around the blond and comes to you with a mug. Steam coils from the brim.

"How about we get you out and you can wait for it to cool in bed? All comfy?"

"Jesus, Charlie, she's not a fucking baby."

"Shut up," Charles snaps back, "she did a real good job and she earned it," he sets the mug down on the short stool near the tub, "isn't that right, baby? So good. So you wanna get out and have your tea and get some rest, right? You take care of us, we take care of you."

Your lip quivers as you stare at him. You're dizzy and dazed and dumb. You don't understand why this is happening. You're a nice person. You nod. Thinking is only making your head hurt worse. Charles helps you out of the the tub and grabs another towel to wrap you in. He brings it around your shoulders and squeezes before he turns to drape his arm around you.

"Come on, you wanna sleep in my room?" He coos.

You just sniff and wipe your raw cheek again. He takes you down the hall and opens a door, taking you inside. He flips on the lights and sits you on the edge of the king bad within. You stay there as he shifts around the room. He returns and replaces the towel with a shirt. You thank him. Why did you do that? Thank you? After everything.

He guides you to lay against the pillows. The bed smells like him, a hint of citrus and sweat. Your eyes are glued to the ceiling as he leaves you. Your trance breaks only as a cup clinks down loudly.

You blink as a weight dips beside you. You wince as Charles pulls the blanket out from under you then over you. You shake and puts his hand on your arm. It makes you still, somewhat soothing yet startling all the same.

“Drink your tea, honey,” he caresses your arm as he nestles closer.

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