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First Offence	By : Peach Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Linkin Park Views: 1938 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Linkin Park. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-First Offence
- 1
Title: First Offence
Author: Peach
Pairing: Read and Find out- (M/M/M/M- you get the idea)
Warnings: Slash and Rape
Rating: NC-17
Status: Chaptered (Part One and Two)
Genre: Angst? Lol, more like extreme kink-
Summary: When you get pulled over by the police, the worst thing you can do is run. Someone finds that out the hard way.
Disclaimer: I don’t know them, and if I don’t know... them I can’t own them. This is all untrue- Blame Mike!
Beta: Decadence (Deccy) did part one, any mistakes are my own. Blame Mike for those too.

Wind shield wipers moved across his field of vision, removing the fat raindrops from his vehicle. He was in no rush to get home to his empty apartment, where he would spend another night alone. He switched on his left turn signal, waiting for the car ahead of him to go.

It was dark and he didn’t see the stop sign as he made his turn onto Sherman Boulevard. He glanced into his rear view mirror and saw a dark colored car following closely behind him. He slowed down to let the guy pass him, not realizing that the man had no intention of doing so.

After a block and a half of following the man, Officer Delson flicked on his lights and sirens. It took the man a second to figure out that the cop wanted him to stop, but when he did he immediately pulled the car to the side of the road. He wondered why the cop would stop him, the car was his and he had just renewed his registration.

He had never even gotten a ticket before. He leaned over the passenger seat and pulled the papers from his glove box and turned the music down, waiting for the officer to approach him.

Officer Delson checked his equipment making sure everything was in working order before exiting his vehicle. His partner, Officer Bennington was in the hospital after a routine traffic stop that went bad. He didn’t want a repeat of that incident so he pulled the clasp holding his pistol in its holster, wanting to be ready to use it in an emergency.

He walked slowly toward the car watching for any sudden movements from the driver. He saw a dark haired man in his mid to late twenties drumming his fingers nervously on the steering wheel. He tapped on the window with his flashlight wanting the man inside the car to roll down the window.

The man in the car turned his head to the side, coming face to face with the officer’s crotch. A trembling hand reached down between his thigh and the door, pushing the button to let the window down.

“License and registration please.”

He handed his registration to the cop while he put his hand into his back pocket to get his wallet. This didn’t go unnoticed by Officer Delson and he shined the flashlight into the man’s face. The wallet was stuck on his pants causing him to tug hard on the stiff leather.

“That’s it. Sir, could you please step out of the vehicle?”

His hand kept tugging on the leather in his pocket not wanting to leave the comfort of his car. Sweat sprung up on his brow, running down his tan face and into his eyes.

“Sir, don’t make me ask you again.”

He gave up on his wallet, cursing himself for not being a woman with a purse and opened the car door. Officer Delson stepped back so the man could fully remove himself from the car and tapped one of his booted feet on the pavement while he waited for the guy to turn around and face him.

“Sir, I’m going to need you to walk around the back of your car, hands out to your sides where I can see them.”

He looked up at the cop, not really understanding why he was asked to move away from his car door but followed the instructions nonetheless. He stopped at the trunk, turning around and facing the cop. Officer Delson was bent over, shining the flashlight into his car. Suddenly Delson stood up and walked quickly over to his own car, passing the driver in a huff; he opened his car door and grabbed the radio.

“Car 1229 to dispatch, come in please.”

The driver wondered why the officer would be calling in. He never once looked at the registration he was handed, nor did he get the license he asked him for. Then he remembered letting his ex drive his car. Big mistake. They were friends now but his ‘bad habits’ were the reason that they were just friends instead of lovers. He was going to go to jail for something he didn’t even do, all because his ex was too stoned to hide his stash.

“This is HQ, what’s the problem Officer Delson?”

The officer turned and faced the man who was leaning back on the trunk of his, car holding himself up with his elbows.

“Yeah I’m gonna need some back up. Is Officer Bourdon working this evening?”

His eyes met the officer’s; searching for any sign that he would give up and let him go. He had to know that he was innocent and that the drugs weren’t his. He pushed himself up and started to move toward the officer, but the cold look in Officer Delson’s eyes told him that he was safer if he didn’t move.

“Yes he is. I’ll have him meet you, what’s your twenty?”

Delson looked up at the street sign a few feet away, trying to read the sign through the wind and rain.

“I am on the forty-three hundred block of Sherman Boulevard, facing east.”

Delson let out a relieved breath. Rob Bourdon was one of the best officers out there and he knew that he would have his back. Drug addicts could be very temperamental and he didn’t want to deal with that on his own.

“I’ll let him know Brad.”

“Thanks”

Delson moved over to the man, taking note of his appearance. He was very good looking for an addict. He was wearing faded blue jeans, tennis shoes and a black tee shirt. They stood on the side of the road looking at each other for a while, before Delson spoke up.

"Sir, can you lift your arms up and spread your legs; I am going to have to frisk you."

The driver stepped away, not wanting to be touched by the officer and held his hands up between them, trying to keep the officer at a distance.

"Why did you stop me? Am I under arrest?"

Officer Delson grabbed one of his outstretched wrists and pulled the man to him. His gloved hands slid over the suspect's shivering body, raising his arms, taking note of the muscles beneath his baggy clothes. The officer brought his body closer to his almost like he was hugging the man, his hands feeling the man's lower back and shoulder blades and one of his feet kicking the man's legs apart.

He pushed the man back in front of him, squatting down till his face was level with the suspect's belt buckle. Rough hands circled his waist and reached back to cup his ass. Delson moved his hands up the man's legs, one hand reaching up to clutch his cock through his pants.

Once the officer finished his search of the subject he sat back on his heels, looking up at the man. He opened his mouth to ask him where the rest of his stash was but closed it when new lights joined the old as Officer Bourdon arrived at the scene. The man looked down, worried by the sudden strange smile that the officer was wearing.

The other cop was walking toward them, taking note that they were the only three in the area. All the businesses in this neighborhood were closed or abandoned. Officer Delson stood up and met Officer Bourdon half way, explaining the situation.

"I was following behind the subject when he failed to stop at a stop sign. I ran his plates and
they came back clean. The car belongs to a Michael Shinoda, 114 East Lovelace Avenue. He didn't give me his license and when I asked him to step out of the vehicle I saw in plain sight a small bag containing a white powder. I then called for back up. After frisking the suspect I found no other drugs. That's about all."

Mike, who was left unattended throughout this whole interaction, ran. He couldn't go to jail for this. He figured that he could always say the car was stolen. He ran down an alley behind a row of empty buildings looking for a way out of this mess. He was at least a mile from home, maybe two and no one he knew lived in the area. He started to try doors of buildings hoping he could find a place to hide until the police gave up their search.

Rob turned around and started to walk over to Mike's car but Mike wasn't standing there. They should have never turned their backs on him. What a rookie move.

"Fuck! Brad, grab the shotgun out of my car and let's go, he's running."

Delson ran around the car, opening the trunk and taking out the shotgun. He made sure it was loaded as he joined Rob in the hunt for their suspect. He tossed the weapon to his makeshift partner, looking up and down the street for any sign of Mike. They ran down the alley, jumping over homeless people that were sleeping in their soggy cardboard boxes. The rain was letting up now, making it easier to hear what was going on around them.

Mike was running out of options, franticly scanning the alley for a way out. He turned another
corner, looking out in front of him. He spotted a fire escape near the middle of the alley. He rushed over to the forgotten hunk of metal, jumping up and down trying to reach the folding stairs.

He finally got a hold of the metal and with all the strength he could muster he pulled the stairs down. It shrieked in protest, the rusty metal not wanting to give way. He hoped that the sound wasn't amplified too much as he pulled himself up on to the platform and ran up the stairs.
Rob grabbed Brad in mid-stride, putting his hand over his opening mouth.

"Ssh... You hear that?"

There it was again. A squeaky sound and metal groaning under pressure. Was it the pressure of a person maybe? The two took off down the alley, running as fast as their feet could carry them. As they rounded the corner they could see Mike looking into a window. He brought his foot back and kicked in the glass, sharp shards of the dusty glass rained down on the officers as they tried to pull down the retractable stairs.

"Stop, you are only making this worse on yourself."

Rob was too busy climbing up to shout at the fleeing man, and once he got his footing Brad followed. The two flew up the creaky stairs hoping that by the time they got into the building he wouldn't have found a way out.

Rob stopped outside of the window taking his flashlight and knocking the remaining glass out of his way. He turned it on and flashed it into the room. It was an old warehouse, abandoned machinery was scattered about the room and on the other side he could see an open door.

Mike ran down the stairs and over to a large metal door. He pulled on it but it did nothing but rattle the chains that held it closed from the outside. He looked around the dark room panicking even more when he heard the glass breaking upstairs. He ran around the building searching for another opening, but the only way he could get out would be going back the way he came.

He could hear the men coming down the stairs, the light from their flashlights bouncing off the walls. Mike ran into an office, closing the door behind him as quietly as he could. There was nothing in the room but a big desk and dust. Mike ran for cover and slid under the kneehole in the
wood.

Brad was behind Rob, both men walking quietly around the ground floor of the factory. They were
communicating through hand signals, not wanting to give away their location. Brad shined his light on the floor and instantly spotted tracks in the thick dust that covered everything. He motioned Rob over to him, pointing in the direction of the office. The men walked the short distance to the door, and Rob reached out for the handle.

It was quiet in the office, but Mike was sure that anyone within ten feet of him would be able to hear his heart beating. He was contemplating whether or not he should get up and leave but before he could make a choice he heard the door creak open. They knew where he was, and now he was going to go to jail for sure. Mike put his hands up so they could see them over the desk, not wanting to get shot by some over zealous cop and slid out from his hiding spot.

Officer Delson walked calmly over to the suspect, handcuffs in hand. Mike held his hands out ready to take his punishment. Rob was the only one who was thinking outside the box. What about street justice? No one would ever believe some crazed addict; they could do what they pleased and no one the wiser.

Rob walked over to the two men just as the handcuffs were closed around Mike’s wrists. Brad had cuffed him in the front so they could easily get Mike out of the building and Mike wasn’t complaining. He was glad that he wasn’t put in an uncomfortable position. Rob came up beside the two and took Brad aside by the arm.

“Want to have some fun with him and then let him go?”

Brad looked closely at Rob making sure that he had heard him correctly. Deciding that this wasn’t some strange kind of test he nodded his head.

“What did you have in mind Officer Bourdon?”

Rob’s face broke out into a grin and for the first time that night Mike was extremely afraid. He couldn’t hear what was being said between the two but he knew that look. It was on both of their faces, the look a predator would have while stalking its prey. Mike started to shake when he heard Rob say ‘follow my lead’. The two turned and started to move towards him.

His eyes danced over their bodies trying to predict their next move. Would they beat him up and leave him here? No one was around to hear him scream, no one but homeless people. Mike had backed himself into a corner watching as Brad licked his lips, he then glanced down at Brad’s hands. His grip on the flashlight was so hard Mike could see that his knuckles had turned white.

‘What is he going to do to me?’ Mike thought as he closed his eyes and whimpered, waiting for the
blows to come.

Brad pulled Mike up by the links in the handcuffs and dragged him over to the desk where Rob was sitting on the solid piece of oak, feet swinging in the kneehole. Brad pushed Mike into Rob’s waiting arms, ignoring the words coming from Mike’s mouth.

“What are you guys doing? Aren’t you going to take me to jail?”

The cops looked at each other, laughter in their eyes. Rob didn’t respond to the question he just dropped Mike onto the table and Brad’s hands snaked around Mike’s waist, undoing the belt that
held his pants up. Mike’s body jerked backwards away from the prying hands but couldn’t get very far. Rob held him down, one hand on his cuffed wrists, the other on the back of his neck.

Brad finally got the belt undone and he unzipped the jeans, pushing them to the floor, along with Mike’s red plaid boxers. Mike was ashamed to be in such a position but he couldn’t fight back.
Rob was moving over him, his right hand never leaving Mike’s bound wrists. He pulled Mike up when he heard Brad’s pants hit the floor, looked over Mike’s shoulder at Brad and nodded his head. Brad lunged forward into Mike’s tight opening, a low moan escaping from his slightly parted lips.

Mike’s whole body was on fire, searing heat spreading throughout his body. His muscles clamped down tight trying to rid his body of the hard object that was now ripping him apart. Brad didn’t pause, thrusting in as hard as he could, causing Mike to slam into the desk hard. The sound of Mike’s hips hitting the table and Brad’s strangled grunts were the only sounds in the warehouse.

Mike wasn’t crying even though he wanted to. He thought about the things his father had told him, how a man never cried no matter what was going on. He wondered if his father would cry if someone did this to him. Rob lifted Mike’s chin and pushed his own hips forward in to Mike’s face. He hadn’t even felt Rob disrobe but that didn’t matter, Rob’s very large dick was being pressed against his closed mouth. He didn’t want to put that in his mouth.

But Rob wasn’t going to wait all day; he grabbed the back of Mike’s head, pushing himself into his mouth. Mike stayed still refusing to do what this man wanted. Brad reached out until his fingers tangled in Mike hair and pushed hard forward. He pushed and pulled in time with his thrusts; both men now voicing their pleasure.

Rob wasn’t getting what he wanted from Mike, fucking his mouth was like putting his dick in a watermelon.

“Suck harder bitch, that’s not good enough.”

Mike closed his eyes and did as he was told, hoping to make him come soon. He wanted them to get done and leave him so he could crawl in a dark corner and cry. Brad started to move faster, his body slapping against Mike’s, their sweat mixing. Mike’s knees were shaking and if Brad and Rob weren’t holding him in place he would have fallen backwards.

Rob’s hand tightened and he released his seed into Mike’s mouth but he didn’t pull away. He was waiting for Mike to swallow. His softening dick was hitting the back of his throat every time Brad pushed his head forward.

Mike’s insides were spasming around Brad’s cock. Brad was almost there and with one final thrust he came, spilling his fluid into the waiting orifice. His body collapsed against Mike’s, his heavy breathing shaking both men. Rob pulled his member from Mike’s mouth and sat legs spread in front of Mike. He pushed Mike’s head down onto his thigh and ran his fingers through the wounded man’s hair.

They sat in silence, no one making a move to leave. Brad spotted the shotgun on the edge of the table and got an idea. He picked the firearm up and started to unload it.
Rob’s eyes searched the other man’s for a reason for his behavior, and Brad verbalized his thoughts.

“This will teach him never to run from the law.”

The barrel of the massive gun then replaced Brad’s limp cock, Mike’s eyes widening as the cold metal scrapped his ruined passage. His vow to remain silent was forgotten as the gun was thrust deep into his bowels, inhuman screams that reverberated off the walls almost shocking the two men in his company.

Mike’s whole body shook, his hands clenching and unclenching, the constant movement of the gun aided by his thick blood. Brad was watching with a sick fascination as the gun disappeared within Mike, loving that every time he pulled it out again his come and Mike’s blood would come rushing back out dripping onto the dirty floor.

Rob was hard again just watching this take place but he didn’t want to put his dick back into Mike’s mouth, noticing how his teeth were grinding together. He grabbed a hold of his own cock, hurriedly stroking it, the pad of his thumb grazing the head every so often.

Mike turned his head not wanting to be that close to Rob as he did what he was doing, but he stayed where he was, happy he had some sort of comfort during this. Mike heard Rob’s breath hitch and felt the warm spray of his spunk across his back. Brad, who was jerking himself off, came too,
his seed hitting Mike’s ass and pushed back into Mike by the shotgun.

Rob put his hand up, stopping Brad from raping Mike. Brad withdrew the gun from Mike’s opening, blood and come spurting out in its wake. Mike was sobbing, Rob’s hand rubbing up and down his back. Brad wiped the gun on Mike’s pants and pulled his own clothes on.

Rob let Mike’s head hit the table and stood up. They two cops dressed as Mike fell to the floor in a heap of trembling skin. Once finished they dressed Mike, un-cuffing him and leaning him against the desk.

“We’re going to let you go Mr. Shinoda. Our search has turned up nothing out of the ordinary and we’ll let you off with a warning. Next time don’t run from the police and watch out for those stop signs, they can sneak up on you.”

Rob laughed at how dumb Brad could be as they went back the way they came, leaving Mike to crawl into a dark corner of the small room and cry softly to himself.

******

“I wonder what they were doing in there all that time?”

Joe turned to the man talking, the man that he’d told repeatedly not to talk to him and grunted, before closing his eyes and rolling over in the box. He had hoped Dave would forget about the two cops that just walked by, laughing about something. He had hoped that Dave wouldn’t want to go and see what went on in the old Die Casting building, what ever happened in there couldn’t have been good and if the cops caught them they would go to jail for sure.

All his “neighbours” knew that they were treading on thin ice by sleeping behind the buildings in the first place, but breaking into one of the businesses wouldn’t be tolerated at all. Dave said nothing, instead kept his eyes on the fire escape of the building the police just exited, humming under his breath in a way that made Joe want to stab him in the throat several times with the sharp edge of the beer bottle that he kept for protection.

Joe just wanted to sleep. Nothing more, nothing less. But with the random pitter patter of rain on top of his soaking wet refrigerator box, that he should have been used to by now, Dave’s God awful, terribly off key, humming and the fading laughter of the two cops it was close to impossible. It was almost as if he wasn’t already living in hell.

“Would you just shut the fuck up already?”

Dave ignored him, much like Joe ignored him a minute ago and reached into his multiple layers of clothing for his half gone, crumpled, off brand, filter less cigarettes. He took his time, knowing that with every rustle of his clothes, every crinkle of the cellophane wrapper of his smokes he was annoying Joe more. He needed to know what the police were doing in that old building. He had to know what they were laughing about. He was positive that if he didn’t know the source of the sound that woke him from his not so perfect slumber, he would die.

Joe rolled over, the plastic bag that covered him crunching, the noise echoing off the walls of the alley. He pounded his fists into the spare clothes that his head rested on and tried to get comfortable, well as comfortable as he could, given the circumstances. He wanted to know what was going on too, if only to shut Dave up long enough to get back to sleep.

Dave paused, his lit match half way to it’s destination and cocked his head to the side, listening to the heavy foot steps coming their way. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a figure in the shadows creep closer to the building the cops just came from and he automatically reached down and tapped Joe hard on the back of his wet skull three times with the tip of one yellowed finger.

“Hey…asswipe, take a look at this shit.”

Dave whispered loudly to Joe, who by that time was trying to suffocate himself with his makeshift pillow, the hand with the match shaking madly in the air in front of his face, the fire on the tiny piece of wood extinguishing just before it reached it fingers.

“Joe, you’re going to want to see this.” By the time the last word was out of his mouth Dave was on his feet, creeping across the street to where the shadow man was now climbing up the fire escape, and Joe had no choice but to follow his very nosey, very stupid friend.

The two leaned against the rain slick building, their hands out to their sides, bodies pressed tight against the brink and both of their faces pointing towards the sky. They could barely see through the twisted metal that once was a fire escape and almost missed the shadow man as he slipped into the open window at the top.

“What the fuck does…”

A quick and dirty hand covering is mouth stopped Dave’s outburst mid stream and Joe glared at him, their faces not even an inch apart. ‘He’s really, truly brain dead’ Joe thought, pushing Dave back against the building and taking another step closer to his friend.

“Do you want him to know that we are watching him Dave?”

Dave shook his head, his hat catching on the rough brick of the building and sliding off his bald head. Joe uncovered his mouth and moved back an inch, making sure to keep his voice low, as he tried to reason with Dave.

“Look, what ever it is he’s doing in there is fucked up, you know this. First the dirty cops, now this shadow person. He can’t live around here Dave, cause we all know what the cops’ll do if they found us in there.”

Joe sighed, looked up at the almost hidden window then back at Dave’s face. He looked like a child that had been scolded by his mother and he almost felt bad. But annoyance out weighed any sympathy he could have felt for the man, the man that he showed how to live on the street, when that hurt look was just covering the look of determination that was there.

“I need to know. Hey, what if it’s a crime scene or something cool like that?”

The overwhelming need to murder his friend was back again, this time stronger and he had to take a few steps back and several deep breaths before he could even look at him. Dave was smart- street smart but he lacked something, something most people are born with, the something that tells them when enough is enough, that somethings are better left undone.

“You’re going to do this with or without me aren’t you?” Joe asked, hoping that he'd say no. But then Dave nodded and smiled that silly, stupid smile he got when ever he got his way. Joe shook his head, ran back over to their box and grabbed his broken bottle before jogging back over to Dave, who was climbing up the fire escape.

Dave glanced down when he felt the metal shift under him and wasn’t surprised to see Joe’s dark head below him. He knew his friend would come with him, not only did Joe want make sure that Dave wasn’t seen and killed but he wanted to know why the old Die Casting place was popular that night as well.

Dave tumbled into the broken window first, Joe’s hand tangling in his clothes the only thing holding him upright. He waited for Joe to come in and let him go before his followed the path left in the dust to the open door. Joe kept up with Dave as he moved to the door, his eyes scanning the room they were in for any one else.

The door was open far enough to slip though and the two quietly started to make their way down the stairs but before they could reach the ground floor Joe tugged Dave to a stop, one of his feet ghosting over the stair below.

“Listen.” Joe’s lips were touching Dave’s ear but he couldn’t concentrate on the pleasant feeling for long, the harsh words and muffled cries of pain downstairs to their right sucked all the fun out of their adventure.

“We need to leave.”

It wasn’t a question or a statement, it was a demand but Dave wasn’t one for authority figures, so like almost everything Joe said he ignored it, shaking off his partner’s hand and once again moving down the stairs.

When they came to a stop out side the open doors Joe pushed Dave against the wall again and covered his mouth as they watched the two men in the room. One was on his knees, his clothes dirty from the trip into the building and crawling on the floor in the room, his wrists were raw and bleeding, Joe figured from the hand cuffs the cops used.

There were huge splotches of blood on the guys pants and floor surrounding him, his dirt stained face was tear streaked but his eyes stood out, they were void of any emotion. It was like he couldn’t believe what was happening so he just blocked it out. Joe felt bad for the guy, he really did but he couldn’t help him now, not while the other guy was there.

Both Dave and Joe recognised the shadow man once they were up close. The man had dark spiky hair, fair white skin and a goatee. He was dressed in all black, from head to toe, the many rings on his fingers glinting from under the sleeves of his black trench coat. He was wearing sunglasses in doors, Gucci sunglasses and had a single silver chain hanging from his neck, Jesus swinging back and forth as he leaned over the man before him.

It was Farrell, Joe thought his name was Colin but he couldn’t be too sure. There were many rumours floating around about the man. Some were made up by mothers to keep their kids in line, some were half truths based on fact and exaggerated but most were true and they were terrifying.

Colin was a drug dealer, and to most that would be small beans- nothing, but around these parts he was the drug dealer. No one messed with him, or his product, even when it left his hands. He knew everything that went on in town. He knew who was cheating on who, who hasn’t paid a bill, how much you owed on your house and who the police did or did not pick up. He ran drugs through the local shops and had police on his payroll.

He was beyond scary, an all around evil guy. Colin was like the Irish Godfather and what ever it was that that poor fuck on the floor at his feet did, it was too late to take back now. As to why he was here himself, not one of his guys, his hands wrapped around this broken man’s throat, cutting off his air supply, Joe didn’t know but he could guess it had something to do with the stuff Colin was pushing and why the cops gave that man a “talking to.”

Joe had seen enough to know that they didn’t belong there, that they had to leave but he couldn’t will his feet to move. He was stuck leaning against the wall, holding his breath and watching as Colin drug the man over to the only piece of furniture in the room and tossed him on top of it like the man was a sheet of paper.

Both of them leaned forward, hoping to catch whatever Farrell was saying to the man to make him nod his head and tears to rush down his face but the sobs from the man on the table blocked out all other sound. Joe was especially happy about that because the second Colin reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the switch blade, he gasped and jerked his head back against the wall, the thud loud only in his ears.

Joe had to reach over and stop Dave from running back the way they came when the cool steel met the skin of the man, it’s sharp tip digging into his collar bone. They watched with wide eyes as the man slipped the knife under the other’s skin, as if it were nothing, as if he was nothing, dragging the blade across the bone.

None of them really noticed the man’s hysterical screams, his pleas or the way Colin had to hold his twisting body to the table, all eyes were on the knife that popped out of the man’s skin, the little flap of skin sticking to his already bloody tee shirt and his now exposed bone. Dave was scared, but Joe, he was horrified. He had a clear view of Colin’s face, of his eyes and he could see the way they came alive when the man looked down and saw what he had done.

Colin seemed to live off of the man’s screams, the panic on his face and the tears that ran down his face into his hair and dropped onto the table below his head. He thrived off of them and he wanted more, so much so that he began to cut the man from his clothes, the tip of the knife gouging his trembling skin.

Everyone watching knew that the man had been used that night, none to gently if the amount of blood covering the room was anything to go by but it didn’t seem to matter much- not to anyone in control that is. When the man was finally nude Joe couldn’t see the amount of damage there was but it had to be bad if it mad Colin pause.

“So, you had a bit of fun tonight Michael?” His thick, Irish voice was mocking, teasing. The grin on his face growing bigger with every anguished move the man below him made. He tried to cover himself, foolish to the on lookers but Michael wasn’t thinking clearly- who would be?

Colin just batted his hands away with one hand, the other tickling Michael’s side with the edge of the knife. Once he gave up and moved his hands, he started to beg, the words were jumbled and none of what he said made sense but the point was clear- clear and unheeded. He knew what was coming, knew that the man above him was going to fuck him and he couldn’t stop it but he had to try.

Joe didn’t want to watch what was happening in that room. He didn’t want to see Colin’s pants drop to the floor and pool around his combat boots. He didn’t want to see him slip the condom over his extremely large and uncut cock or hear him tell Michael that “You can’t be too care full these days” before shoving the condom wrapper in his open mouth and placing his hand on the backs of Michael’s knees.

Once Colin had Michael’s legs pushed up until his knees touched his chin, he slammed into him, the force of the movement sliding the man’s sweaty, bloody body forward. Colin sucked in a deep breath, called Michael a ‘fucking whore’ and told him to hold on to the edge of the table near his ass, so he could fuck him like he was meant to be fucked.

With each vigorous thrust into his torn, used body Michael would shriek, his head hitting the table because he couldn’t bear to look into the face of the man doing this to him. Each blow to his body sent gigantic ripples of pain through his through him, shocking his system, making the black spots that swam in his line of sight that much worse.

Colin didn’t even try to stifle the moans that burst from his body, with every movement he made the sounds grew louder, with every muscle spasm Michael had, Colin moved faster until Michael let go of the table and half of his body slid over the edge. Colin’s hips hit the hard wood, his cock slipping out of the impossibly tight, hot body- unspent.

Everyone held their breath, wondering if Michael’s ‘slip’ would get him killed. Colin looked as if he were trying to decide, his face a mixture of every emotion imaginable, then it cleared and he looked up, his eyes meeting the stunned eyes of Joe.

“I think I let you watch long enough. Now get your ass in here and hold him down.”

He was already dragging Michael back to the edge of the table as he spoke and for a second Joe thought he had dreamed it up. He was going to look at Dave, see if he heard the same thing he did but when Colin snapped his fingers and tapped his watch he moved. Joe cursed the fact that Dave was hidden in the shadows to his right, he damned Dave for begging him to leave his soaking wet box to investigate but he stepped into the room and walked over to the table as if he wanted to be right where he was.

Joe didn’t want to give Colin a reason to turn on him, so with that in mind he grabbed Michael’s lacerated wrist’s in one hand and pushed them to the table hard, his other hand on the man’s shoulder pinning him down. He made sure he had a good grip when Farrell started to slam into the tormented man again and he closed his eyes to the sight, hoping against hope that the man finished soon.

Now that he was in the room, Joe could smell the other’s, the cops that used the man before. He could almost taste Michael’s blood the room was so thick with it’s scent. He wanted to vomit and would have if not for Colin, who was having the time of his live thrusting into his captive.

Michael had given up trying to breathe around his sobs, the force of the man’s actions forced all the air from his body as it was and he was beginning to turn blue. He clenched around the man’s cock, holding him tightly inside his body, even though it felt like razor blades sliding in and twisting around. He had to make him cum, he didn’t have a choice if he wanted to live. Not that he knew for sure he would make it out of there alive in the first place but anything was better than suffering though this agony one minute more than he had to.

Michael’s tightening insides, the feel of the other’s spunk and the Michael’s blood rushing out around his dick triggered Colin’s orgasm and he slammed into Michael harder, crying out at the feeling of being drained, moaning at the feel of having their seed rush back out around his now sensitive flesh. Joe let go the second Colin slumped forward onto Michael’s motionless body and jumped back against the wall next to the door.

He wanted to run. He wanted to grab Dave and run back to their box, pack their petty shit and run but he couldn’t, not now that Farrell knew he was there. Colin took a minute or two to get his frantic breathing under control before he pushed himself to his feet, dropped the condom to the floor and pulled up his pants.

He turned his head to look at Joe, opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by his cell phone.

“Yeah.”

Joe wasn’t breathing any more because with each word Colin spoke into the phone he stepped towards him. He didn’t want to die but he couldn’t fight this man and win, so he just closed his eyes, tried to block out the conversation on the phone and prayed that he didn’t piss himself when the time came.

“No, no. We had a break in at the fort, just a minor inconvenience, I took care of it.”

Colin paused, listened to person on the phone and smiled at Joe before replying.

“Yeah, I got ya. Keep him there, I’m on my way.”

And with a pat on the shoulder he exited the room, the sound of his combat boots hitting the stairs was like guns shots then he was gone.

Joe waited for the sound to stop and when it did, he ran. He ran out the door, grabbed Dave, pulled him up the stairs, out of the building, to the refrigerator box, packed their shit and ran, leaving Michael right where he was.

Michael however only had one option. All he could do was slid off the table, cover himself with the scraps of his clothes, crawl back into that dark corner of the small room and cry softly to himself. That is until someone else found him.

The question was, how long would it be before someone did?

{Peach, finished August 2005}
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