Polar
by elfin
WARNING: This
first part contains a GRAPHIC
depiction of the rape of a main male character.
While the rest of the
story hinges around this one act, it is possible to read the rest of
the story without
having read that. At the same time, it's a part of
the story for a reason.
Part I
"Over the desk,"
was Warren's dreaded instruction to his henchmen and a
second
later Gene Hunt landed heavily, chest first, across the wide, flat
mahogany
surface.
The pressure winded
him, and
his next laboured, frightened breaths were hampered further by his
throat being
pressed into the edge of the desk. He
shifted, trying to find purchase on the carpet with the tips of his
shoes,
trying in vain to keep his own weight off his already bruised ribs.
"Take his pants
down."
The knot of fear in
his guts
exploded into a stream of terror and he kicked out blindly even as
rough hands worked
their way underneath him, around his expansive waist.
The heel of his
boot connected
satisfyingly with someone's leg and he briefly enjoyed the pained sound
that
followed before he had to endure the savage punch to his side.
For a couple of
seconds his
stomach churned threateningly, coloured spots dancing in front of his
eyes, and
he thought he might throw up over Warren's nice red carpet.
The chill of the
air hit his buttocks
as his pants were yanked down along with his underwear.
"You're insane," he
choked out.
He heard two
heavily booted
feet planted in the cheap carpet, close behind him, felt the heat of Warren leaning over his bare ass.
"You told me that no one humiliates your
officers. Well, Mr Hunt, no one
humiliates me."
Slim hands stroked
his
cheeks, the crease of his thighs. "Warren
- you mad poofter! Don't do this. I swear I'll lock you away and throw away the
key, you bastard!"
Warren just laughed. "That
would mean you'd have to come clean to your team, Sheriff." The sounds of a zipper, then flesh against
flesh froze Gene for a second before real panic ripped through him. "Admit to your men that Stephen Warren took
you up the ass."
"No!"
Gene's fight
started in
earnest, struggling as much in vain against the large hand pinning his
throat
against the cutting edge of the desk as he was against the cuffs
pinning his
hands into the small of his back. He kicked out for a second time only
to have
his left foot grabbed, his legs separated as much as the trousers and
briefs
around his ankles would allow.
"Warren! Don't!"
Heat hit the backs
of his
aching thighs, hands gripping around his waist, and a hard rod of flesh
rubbed
against his bare buttocks.
"Do this and
there'll be
nowhere to hide you fucking bastard! I
swear… I'll make you regret it…."
Something large and
solid
poked at his hole and he felt the ring of muscle tighten, struggling
now to
breathe.
"Don't!" The blunt pain as
his anus
was forced open felt like something tearing him in two, splitting him
in
half.
He screamed, trying
to pull
away but unable to move, unable to replace the breath he'd released,
panic and agony
welling up inside him. He could feel
himself tearing as Warren pushed hard into him, his cock a blunt
weapon. He could feel blood starting to
run slowly
along the inside of his thigh, the nausea building in his stomach, and
knew he
was going to be sick.
"God," he heard Warren's pleasure over the drumbeat of his own
pulse,
"you're tight for an old man, Gene.
It's good, really good."
His stomach turned
and he
tasted bile at the back of his throat a second before his lunch was
purged onto
Warren's carpet, the acid burn over his tongue
nothing
compared to the sharp agony in his ass.
He felt Warren's fingers bite into his waist, nails
breaking the
skin. "Never thought… this would
be… so good."
When Warren leaned over him slightly, ramming impossibly
deeper
to grab at the phone, Gene thought he must have passed out.
Dialling, he
continued to
push into him and pull back. Gene feeling
like his insides might follow if Warren pulled his dick all the way out
now,
heard his own first sob over Warren's voice and words spoken calmly as
if by a
man not in the middle of a rape.
"DI Tyler, please. It's Stephen Warren."
Gene closed his
eyes. There was nothing he could do but
pray Warren would finish soon.
He thought about ripping out the man's throat the moment he was
freed
and held that image firm in the front of his mind as the long strokes
continued, alternatively gentle then stabbing.
"Tyler." Warren's voice, sounding oddly distant. "If you want your boss back... almost in
one piece, I'd suggest you pick him up from my club. And Mr Tyler, you
might want
to consider coming alone."
Instead of hanging
up, Warren
placed the handset carefully on the desk next to Gene, took a firmer
hold of bleeding
flesh, and started to thrust roughly, going deeper, tearing at his
insides,
taking his pleasure both in the act and in Gene's suffering.
Gene thought he
heard Sam's
voice yelling his name, but it was so far away now it could so easily
have imagined
it.
Without warning
Stephen went
still, seemed to Gene's raped body to grow impossibly bigger somewhere
inside his
seared gut, then spent himself, pulling out quickly as soon as he was
done. It was worse than Gene could have
imagined it would be. Hot semen started
to follow the same path as the blood running out of him, down over his
balls
and thighs, but it felt as if his guts were falling out too. He didn't move, couldn't even if he'd wanted
to, but he was too frightened of what would happen.
"Shame my boys here
don't share my persuasion, Gene, you're all nice and lubricated now." Warren lifted the handset, listened for a moment,
and racked
it. "I think your DI's probably on
his way." He walked around the
desk. Gene could smell sex as he came
close, blood-strained dick hanging still thick from the dark, wiry
pubes. "Want to taste yourself?"
Gene screwed his
eyes closed
and tried not to breathe in, heard Warren laugh.
"The question is, how would you like him to find you? Spread out like this for the world to see
your humiliation, or dressed and sitting in the chair like a man?"
No point in
answering. Gene recognised his own
ultimatum, as twisted
as Stephen himself, and didn't speak.
"Fair enough, Mr
Hunt. I'll just leave you here for your
boy. I'm sure he won't respect you any
less."
> Part 2