Funny thing, Steve has never met a hostile before who talks this much.
He's also never met a hostile before who has come this close to taking him apart completely, all the while talking, for seemingly no good reason. Since getting ambushed and brought where ever they are Steve still hasn't gotten a clear idea why exactly he was captured.
He's been held for 48 hours now, as far as he can tell, and in those hours one Mr. Williams has not let up hasn't shut up either.
Not that Steve has given him anything useful so far, but he is starting to run low on useless information and Williams still looks like he'd be able to go on and on...
Flooding Steve with useless information in return between bouts of sharp, vicious violence.
Steve now knows about the best pizza places in New Jersey, the proper way to wear a tie in hot weather and even Williams' porn preferences...not that Steve is entirely sure how those came up.
All this, while his muscles scream at him and it's starting to get difficult for Williams to find a place on Steve's body he hasn't yet shocked with the damn baton. Balancing on his toes, practically hanging from a chain by his arms Steve is a mix of bruises, welts, and burns safe for his dick and face...and even his face throbs from the open-handed slaps Williams doles out every time Steve's attention wanders.
It's confusing and disorienting and Steve has long since made a mental note to pitch the Williams technique of interrogation to military intelligence because if he's close to breaking after only 48 hours after having been trained to resist interrogation...
Only he has to wonder where the navy is supposed to get people who talk this damn much for the technique to work efficiently. Another slap rattles his teeth, he isn't paying attention again, and Williams is suddenly right there in his face and no longer keeping a precautionary distance. If only Steve could take the risk of trying to kick out at Williams or get him into a hold without wrenching his own arms out of their sockets.
He feels William's breath chilling the sweat on his throat. William's warm hand is unexpectedly on Steve's chest tracing his muscles until it is cupping Steve's pectoral and his thumb is flicking annoyingly across Steve's nipple.
He damns uncontrollable physical reflexes because of course he's sensitive there and the nipple tightens into a hard point that seems to be connected straight to his dick. Also damns the adrenaline habit he's developed over the years and his usual solution of going out and getting laid as soon as he can get away after missions no matter the injuries: his body doesn't care that it's in pain or why it just knows that pain is usually followed by mind blowing sex and loads of it.
The worst thing is: Williams notices, his thumb twitches against the tight flesh, freezes for a moment and then comes back accompanied by another finger to pinch the nipple viciously. Steve moans, out loud, unable to hold it in despite having suffered the beating and electric shocks in near silence.
What's worse; he can't help arching just the tiniest bit into the pain.
"Well, how about that!"
Williams keeps twisting and pinching, watching Steve closely as he struggles to get his composure back. When he stops Steve can't help but tense further because with Williams something stopping isn't a respite, it's a moving on to something else. One hand keeps contact; nails scratching over bruised and welted skin of Steve's flank Williams circles until he's behind Steve.
He can feel the mobster's hot breath on the nape of his neck and between his shoulder blades, can feel body heat from how close Williams is standing to him.
His body reacts as if whatever is going on is foreplay; his cock strains against his trousers, one nipple throbs with pain while the other aches from lack of stimulation.
Williams makes a soft sound that might be appreciation and might be something else entirely, then there are two hands on Steve's flanks roughly caressing the bruises as they pull his body against Williams'.
Any other time Steve would be amused by Williams being at least half a head shorter, but now while feeling a hard cock digging into his thigh right below his ass all he feels is adrenaline and fear attempting to shake his body apart.
He's had the training to resist interrogation and hold out under torture but no one can prepare a soldier for rape. No simulation would ever be enough, especially with the body working against the victim as Steve's is doing at the moment. He can't stop himself from struggling until his arms are screaming, almost twisted out of their sockets.
Williams, just waits him out before pulling him flush against his body again to continue his exploration.
"I do like a wiggler."
He drapes himself over Steve's back; his hand finds the nipple that has been aching for attention while the other hand slides down to Steve's waist. Williams' fingers dip below the edges of Steve's hipbones once or twice, while he's scratching through the treasure trail starting under Steve's navel but otherwise stay almost polite.
Steve expects to have felt a cock getting forced into his ass already, instead, he gets Williams exploring his torso, cataloging every sensitive spot he can find. Not that he's gentle about it; nails scratch, fingers pinch, bruises and burns get prodded all the while Steve can feel Williams' hot breath right between his shoulder blades making his skin itch like crazy.
"Have I asked you if you wanted to join the dark side already? No cookies I'm afraid; have to watch my girlish figure and all that, but I'd love the chance to see if I can make you pass out from coming too much if that's any intensive?"
Williams' hands wander towards Steve's ass and the body leaning against Steve's back disappears. He hears a soft curse and the sound of someone kneeling down then his ass cheeks get spread apart by large, warm hands. The sound that Williams makes after that reminds of a hungry lion who've spotted his prey.
Of all things he's prepared for in the line of duty he never expected this, no one does he supposes as his muscles tense up and he tries to will himself out of his body, away from the situation.
Only instead of violation, he gets slapped on the back of his thigh and his ass used as a crutch as Williams gets up again.
"Shame, guess I'll have to get less civilized."
Williams steps away into the dark that surrounds them and Steve can hear papers getting shuffled about before several pictures land at his feet. Surveillance photographs of members of 5-0 as they go about their day. Then William is next to him again, his thick blunt fingers in Steve's hair yanking his head back so that Steve is looking into eyes the color of Arctic ice.
"These are the people you care about Mr. McGarrett currently they are on their way to a certain location under the impression that they will be liberating you there. At the location in question, I have stationed two snipers a head who are waiting for a phone call from me. If the call doesn't come...they will put two bullets in each member of your team. This will happen in..."
Williams frowns down at his overly expensive looking watch then up at Steve.
"Two hours because I'm not staying in this pineapple infested hell longer than strictly necessary and the people I represent are tired of you being a giant pain in their collective asses. So you have a choice my friend: you disappear and we allow 5-0 to function as best it can without you in which case I will make that call right now, or I set you loose. You will not make it in time to save your friends, but you will live. Either way, 5-0 will no longer be bothering my employers and thus will not be bothering me and I will be able to go back to civilization."
Whatever arousal Steve has been fighting up until the moment Williams started speaking drains away like he's gotten thrown into a cold bath.
"Not much of a choice..."
Steve has always known that he won't be dying in his bed, but to die like this; the thought of dying here makes him angry.
"But one you're not exactly a stranger too."
Steve wonders how well connected Williams really is; where at first he had the impression that the man might be an outsider hired on by one of the minor gangs operating throughout Hawaii that impression has been proven very, very wrong. Whoever hired Williams is far more powerful than that, possibly someone from Steve's past though somehow that seems unlikely even with Williams' apparently knowledge of incidents in Steve's past that he isn't proud of.
His hair is released and Williams steps back fading into the shadows surrounding them.
"I'll leave you to think about it, my friend."
And Steve is alone, aching, tired and without any way out as far as he can see.
Usually, his team comes charging in right about this time, finds a clue or speaks to someone who has seen something and manages to connect the dots. Only this time Steve believes his captor when Williams says that his team will not make it in time.
He is going to die because of ordinary criminals and not in the service to his country, but despite what Williams says he really doesn't have any choice in the matter. There is only one thing he can do now; not die chained up.
He might not be able to break the cuffs with anything but he can try getting the chain off the hook he's hung on and maybe getting his legs free. The chains make a hell of a noise, his arms protest when he jumps and overbalances barely keeping from wrenching his left arm out of its socket. It takes more times than he'd like to admit before he slams into the floor finally free of the hook.
He's still catching his breath when he's stepped on, the foot pressing down right between his shoulder blades.
"Babe, as much as I admire how far you can push that lovely, lovely body—You really shouldn't have done that."
He can hear the soft 'click' of a gun getting cocked and closes his eyes cursing that he hasn't gotten further.
"Now, what have you chosen Steven?"
The pressure on his back grows as Williams kneels down on Steve's back and Steve feels the barrel against the back of his head.
Instead of a bullet he gets a slapped.
"I want to hear you say it, just to make sure no one is misunderstanding anything here."
Steve considers keeping silent since it doesn't matter any longer, but the temptation to get the last word in is too great.
"Call your snipers off, the team lives."
Williams' knee grinds into his back as Williams leans in, close enough that Steve can feel hot breath in his ear.
"Good choice babe."
He expects the bullet now, what he feels instead is a needle.
When Steve wakes up again he's more comfortable than the first time, he isn't lying on concrete but on something soft and made from leather. Somewhere close he can hear Williams talking quietly; it sounds like the man is on the phone and all around them there is a deep, low hum. With his eyes open it doesn't take him long to realize that he's in a airplane, still chained up and still in Williams' possession.