Chapter Text
John startled awake and was met only with darkness. His arms were still bound painfully, and it made it so hard to focus on his other senses, to try to determine what it was that had woken him. The ravenous hunger didn’t help either. It was more than just his stomach cramping, it was a desperate thrumming in his blood, a need that mere food couldn’t satiate.
“Ah, awake, I see.”
The voice, much too close, made him flinch. It felt like Elias had only just left him, but he was back already, and he thrashed even though he knew the bindings would hold. That was when he realized his legs were restrained again as well, and the desperate terror choked him. He couldn’t go through this again, he just couldn’t.
“There, there,” Elias said, as if he actually cared to sooth him, the liar. “Behave and you can eat. You feel it, don’t you?”
He did, and it drew a despairing sob from him, knowing this endless cycle was repeating yet again.
Terror, nightmares, hopelessness; it fed him. He could draw it into himself, taking in the power of these terrible emotions and it kept him alive, sustained him; it kept him human. Well, he was anything but human, but it meant he could live a normal life, blend in amongst them. It meant he wouldn’t hurt anyone.
But Elias kept him starved here, tormented him until he was on the brink, only to snatch him back, let him gorge himself on the life of some poor soul. He couldn’t control himself or the surge of magic in those moments, and he knew Elias was taking that power for himself, siphoning it into him, leaving John weak and feeble all over again.
He couldn’t escape, he couldn’t hide away. He could only submit and suffer, forced to harm, to kill.
“Please,” he whispered, voice hoarse and weak. “Don’t do this. Let them go.”
“That’s cute,” Elias said, his laugh disturbingly light. “You sound as if you actually care. How many people have you killed? You’re a monster. Act like it.”
John snarled at him, wishing he could. How many times had he dreamt of ripping Elias’ throat out? He would gladly do so now, if he could only reach. As it was, his useless rage only made Elias laugh again.
“Let’s begin, now,” Elias said, amusement still in his voice. “I know you require some encouragement.”
Something struck him, hard, and John gasped in pain, unable to flinch away or shield himself with how tightly his arms and legs were bound, keeping him splayed open. Elias struck him again, leaving white hot lines across his chest. He wondered not for the first time if he was leaving scars across him, if this whip was scouring into his flesh. He couldn’t tell. By the end he wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between blood or sweat. He couldn’t help but cry out as Elias aimed lower, striking against the tender flesh of his inner thigh. That was his favorite place to aim for, and John could feel his eyes burning from tears, more from knowing what was to come than the actual pain.
Eventually, Elias grew bored of the punishment and knelt on the bed between his spread legs. John couldn’t help the snarl that escaped him, but Elias had long since stopped caring, knowing he could do nothing as he reached down. He grasped his cock, and John was shocked to realize he was growing hard. He hated that so much. Had Elias really trained him so well that he would react to the pain in anticipation? He had never liked pain, he was so afraid of hurting, but Elias had always said he belonged to him. Of course he would be forced to react however he wanted as well.
And then Elias’ hand was searching lower. He teased at his entrance before pushing in, and John flinched again, wishing he could rip himself free, that he could tear his way out of here. He hated this so much, he’d never liked being touched. He thought it was because of what he was, because he wasn’t human and couldn’t stand their touch because of it. And maybe that was true, he didn’t know. His parents had died when he was so young, and his grandmother hadn’t known enough to explain, only to help him blend in until adulthood. She had been human, but she didn’t really like touch either. Or maybe she just didn’t want to have to touch him.
Not that he’d blended in for long after that, of course. How many years had he been held here against his will? He didn’t know, everything was a haze of horror and despair. And he was overwhelmed by it yet again as he felt Elias pumping his finger into him, stretching him out. He slipped a second finger in alongside the first and John whimpered despite himself. This never got easier, whatever pleasure he tried to wring from him couldn’t outway the discomfort, the horrible itching under his skin. It was awful and terrible and still Elias refused to show him mercy.
Elias usually only bothered to seek his own pleasure, knowing any climax John reached would only leave him worse off, drained and miserable, requiring twice as long to recover. But today he paused in his mission to open him to seek his prostate, to force agonizing pleasure out of him, and John couldn't help the terrified noise that escaped him. He didn’t know if Elias was genuinely trying to make it good for him, not able to comprehend his misery. Maybe he did know and just wanted to torment him even more.
The reason didn’t really matter in the end. It sent a thrill of terror through him as he tried uselessly to struggle free once again, his breath coming in short terrible gasps, near hyperventilating. He could feel that horrible overstimulation coiling in his gut, constricting his lungs even as it forced his cock to harden further. Elias made a hungry sound over him and he shuddered, wishing he could flee, could hide. And then Elias was forcing a third finger into him and he sobbed as he was stretched so much wider.
He wished he could remain impassive through all of this. He wished he could spite him and refuse to give him any reaction at all. But he had never been good at hiding his emotions, which he was sure was exactly why Elias enjoyed doing this to him so much. He began placing kisses to his neck as he worked him up to four fingers, jamming them into him and wrenching him open so much more. The kisses quickly became bites and he knew he was adding to the scars already littering the area. It felt like he always had a healing bite or bruise on his neck and shoulders.
John didn’t know what did it, if he made a particularly distressed or alluring sound that finally made Elias pull out of him only to loom over him, lining up his cock. And then Elias was thrusting all of him into him in one swift motion, causing him to cry out in his despair, echoed by Elias’ moan of pleasure. No matter how many times he fucked him, it never got easier. It was always too much, too overwhelming to have him press deep inside of him, to feel the heat of his body around and inside him. It was terrifying. He never felt quite so alone as he did in these moments, truly abandoned and lost, completely without hope.
Elias set a brutal pace, fucking into him again and again before he could adjust, and John could only lay there and take it. He wished he could hide his face, could muffle the distressed noises he was making. He hated that he was giving Elias everything he wanted. The feeling of being filled over and over again was just too much, and he was so weak, so tired. Was this all his life was now? Was he to exist in darkness until Elias returned to take his pleasure from him? In some ways he preferred the pain, even as much as he feared it. He had never wanted to have sex with anyone, had never desired this sort of intimacy, and now it was going to be forced out of him forever. There was nothing intimate in this and he sunk deeper into despair and horror, desperate for it all to end, for his life to be over so he could be free of this never ending horror.
And when he felt Elias finish, forcing him to take it, filling him up, he grabbed his cock as well. He’d already been at the brink and this forced him over the edge and he thrashed. His climaxes weren’t full of pleasure and euphoria like he was told they were supposed to. Instead, they were miserable and agonizingly overwhelming, and he was so desperate for any sort of escape, any sort of relief, he finally lost control.
In his already weakened state, it forced him to lash out, to latch onto the poor tormented soul Elias had brought, and he began to feed, draining them of life. He ate their horror, their nightmares. He drank them up until there was nothing left and he finally, finally, felt sated. Relief washed over him as his pain finally subsided, but only for a moment. Because then Elias was ripping that out of him as well, draining him of his strength all over again, leaving him a shell of himself, even more terrified, shaking under him.
He sobbed as Elias pulled out of him and he felt so empty and scared, so utterly helpless, weaker than he had been before. Was he dying? Would he just waste away one day as Elias kept doing this to him? He didn’t know, but he knew he would deserve it. As terrified as he was of dying, he knew he had likely killed the latest victim Elias had brought for him. He usually did when he lost control. He truly was the monster Elias said he was.
He didn’t want to hurt anyone, but that hardly mattered. He was killing people and he couldn’t stop and it didn’t matter that he didn’t have a choice. He needed to die. He wanted his own torment to end, of course, but more than anything he wanted to stop all of the pain and suffering Elias was forcing him to spread.
He sobbed under him, feeling broken and empty, feeling the cooling spend on his stomach, and feeling Elias’ drip out of him. And Elias had the audacity to coo at him, to wipe away his tears and kiss his cheek. And he sounded so fond as he told him to rest, and that would have made him cry harder if he wasn’t so incredibly exhausted and miserable. It was a relief to let unconsciousness claim him. It was the only escape he had.
-
Martin knew he wasn’t supposed to be here. He was supposed to be cleaning Lord Bouchard's library, but he couldn’t remember this door ever being unlocked and curiosity had gotten the better of him. It was probably nothing, it was probably just where he kept his more personal belongings, maybe particularly expensive artifacts and the like. He wasn’t planning on stealing anything, he just wanted to satisfy his curiosity and then he would get back to work, no harm done.
But then he came around the corner and saw the man tied to a bed, completely naked and blindfolded, seemingly asleep.
He could feel his own face burning in embarrassment as he quickly averted his eyes, because obviously he’d just walked in on a very personal moment between Elias and his lover. He’d seen Elias leaving the estate, he didn’t know how long he was planning to leave this man tied up, but whatever games they wanted to play were none of his business and he needed to get out of there before Elias got back.
Unfortunately, as he turned to leave, the floorboard under him creaked and he wished he could die on the spot. How was he supposed to explain this?
“What?”’ the man demanded, his voice low and angry, but there was an unmistakable tremor to it that had Martin hesitating just a bit. He reminded himself that the fear might not be genuine, it didn’t necessarily mean anything. He was intruding and he needed to make his excuses and leave before this man had Elias gut him for interrupting.
“I am so sorry,” Martin said, bowing before he remembered the man couldn’t see. “I was just cleaning and the door was open and—“
“Did Elias send you?” the man asked, and he sounded so— tired. More than that, he seemed resigned in a way Martin hadn’t really seen before.
“N-no,” Martin said, chewing on his lip in his anxiety. “Like I said, I was just cleaning and—“
“He doesn’t know you’re here?” he interrupted, an urgency to his voice now.
“No, he doesn’t,” Martin admitted reluctantly.
“Quickly,” he said. “I need you to kill me.”