Homeplot 2: John and Logan
Sep. 13th, 2009 05:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
echolls_cursedThe stone was cold against his back, and the ropes that dug into his wrists and ankles were painful. His shirt was ripped from being yanked and tugged around, and he had managed to quirm his way into the cornor, his knees drawn up to his chest defensively and his hands behind his back.
He was alone for the time being, and the large room was quiet- but not empty. There were tools and furniture- and though it was nothing like the room he and Jack had used back in Neptune, there were a few pieces of furniture that looked familiar. Other things, however, reminded him of things he'd seen in textbooks and museums. Tools he knew the use for but never wanted to experience.
Shaking, he tried again to free himself, but there was no chance of slipping out of the knots John had tied. He was helpless, and Jack- Jack was gone.
His husband, his partner, his everything was gone. ...His life was as good as over.
John had walked away for a bit before the anger and jealousy got the best of him. Sure, he could have beaten and killed the boy and been done with it, but where was the fun in that? From a lifetime of experience he knew it would be worse all around if he returned this new bit of eyecandy to Jack a ruined wreck. Dead was just too trite.
He wandered back into the room, fed and rested and well liquored. The very sight of the boy made him burn. Husband...how dare Jack. Who did he think he was? Normal? Get married and the next thing you knew you were settled, and John thought that was a fate worst than death. No. No, when he was finished with this young man, there wouldn't be any chance of settling.
"You were comfortable, I trust?" he asked, his tone dripping saccharine sweet from his lips. "Come on, then. Up on your feet. So much to do, nothing but time."
Logan said nothing, looking at the stranger for only a moment before looking away, his gaze fixed on the wall and his face blank. Jack had never finished training him, at his own request, and he realized now that he had no idea how he was supposed to survive. ...Not that he was sure surviving mattered. It wasn't as if he had much to live for without Jack. It was simply a loss he wasn't sure he could recover from.
"If you're going to kill me, just do it," he said finally. "I'm not going to beg for my life, so just get it over with."
"Tut tut," John scolded softly, coming closer with a deceptive gentleness. He reached out and ran his hand against Logan's skin, noting just how warm the boy was. Or maybe it was that his hand was cold. His hands were always cold.
"I'm not going to kill you," he assured Logan, then bent in so his lips were close to his ear. "And that ought to scare you, boy. I don't care what you beg for. I took you from Jack, so now you're mine."
"No," Logan replied simply, leaning back and kicking the stranger hard with his bound legs. "I'm not yours. I'm never going to be yours. You can take me away from him, but I'll always be Jack's. -Same way he'll always be mine now. You lost him, and even if you killed him, it doesn't matter, he's my husband. He died as my husband. Get over it."
John kicked him back, one heavy boot meeting the younger man's skin with a hard crack. He held nothing back when he punched Logan in the gut, either.
"That's right," he drawled. "He's dead, and I killed him." He wondered if Logan knew that with Jack, pesky things like dying didn't stick. Nothing ever stuck to Jack...and wasn't that an infuriating thought? "But maybe so. Maybe you're his. You know, we used to be partners. Back then we shared everything. I don't think he'd mind a bit if I played with you for a bit." He punched Logan again, then again, just letting off some excess energy and enjoying the sound of fists and flesh and exhalations of pain more than any sane person might.
Logan couldn't defend himself, not with his hands tied, and he curled his body away from the attack as he closed his eyes and focused on simply breathing. John's fists were wild, and he couldn't find a pattern to were the hits would land. All Logan could do was take it. He had a sinking feeling that was something he'd need to get used to.
His fingers itched to swing back, and he struggled even as he drew away, curled up in the corner, bruised and breathing hard. "Stop," he panted. "Just stop. ...If you want to fight me, be a man and untie me."
"What makes you think I want to fight you?" John laughed, landing one more punch before he stepped away. "I just want to make you scream, pet. We have all the time in the universe. I could do this for decades, and then slip back and get that stone. You've no idea the freedom a person has when they travel in time. You'll fall in love with me before I'm through with you."
With that, John walked away to a table with an array of toys and weapons and tech jumbled on it in no particular order. He knew what he was looking for, though. He found the small round thing that looked like a box that a precious gem might be displayed in, then he returned to Logan. Stepping behind him, he pressed it against the base of the boy's skull and held it in place until it had firmly attached itself to Logan's flesh.
"There. That's better," he purred, beginning to untie the boy. "Nothing like an inhibitor to give me the upper hand. That registers biochemical flow from your brain. Get angry? Get hurt. Have fun with that."
Logan started to fight, only to cry out a moment later, holding his head and doubling over. It hurt, and it felt as if the pain was coming from inside his skull. It was like nothing he'd ever felt before, and he closed his eyes as he tried to catch his breath.
Looking up he met the other man's eyes with his own, shaking a little and finally taking him in. He was older than Jack. At least he looked older. Lean and pale where Jack was broad and tall. He had a look in his eyes that made Logan's stomach turn over, and he swallowed hard before speaking up. "Did you plan this?" he asked, his brow creasing as he tried to stay calm.
"Plan? I'm not much for plans. That's our boy Jack's specialty. Me, I don't plan. I act," John replied. Watching the younger man deal with the agony of the device was a beautiful thing and he almost hoped the boy would get upset a little more often. He would, if John had anything to say about it. "I've been putting a few things together since I brought you here, but this was supposed to be for him. Not you. Don't suppose you'll be half the fun he would have been. We go back, you know, he and I. I know just how to make him scream. You...you're going to take a little work."
"I don't scream," Logan growled, hissing as the pain shot through him again, making him duck his head. "I don't scream, and I won't give you what you want. You think you can hurt me? Go ahead. I can take it. I'm not afraid. I'm not scared of you. Joe and Dale will find me. It's just a matter of time. Do whatever you want."
He didn't want to think about the other man and Jack, of what Jack would have done if their roles had been reversed. He'd have been angry, sure, but he enjoyed danger. Logan couldn't help but wonder if he would have wanted this. If maybe he would have eventually relaxed or gotten into it. After all, this was Jack's sort of game.
"Oh, I intend to. I intend to do anything and everything I want," John answered coldly.
He undressed Logan with a knife, the blade cutting the boy's clothes to ribbons before the dropped away. Struggling was rewarded with sound hits and he wasn't ovely careful with the knife. By the time Logan was naked, he was bleeding from several nicks and cuts. John looked at him like little more than meat while he was working, but once he was done, he licked his lips and put the blade against Logan's throat.
"Get on your knees. I'm going to give you something to suck on, and if you don't do it just right, I'll take one of your eyes out," he said evenly.
Logan rubbed his wrists, looking down at the cuts on his body and shivering as he looked away. He didn't wonder if the threat was real, Jack had warned him what John was like- he'd even shown him and told him about the things they'd done together in the past. The threat was real, and even if Joe and Dale were coming, he couldn't be sure of how long it would take.
"Please don't," he said finally. "I'm sorry if I pissed you off before, but- just don't make me do that. Just take me back. I want to be with Jack. I want to say goodbye before they bury him. Don't you want to say goodbye? I don't believe you meant to kill him. You love him."
"If I hadn't meant to kill him, I would have shot him in the ass. Not the head," he said coldly, the anger at this boy's runaway mouth bleeding through. He reached down and caught Logan's hair and gave it a sharp jerk while his other hand undid his fly. He didn't bother to take off the gun belts, he simply pulled out his cock and pulled Logan forward. He didn't need much, just enough space to get it in, and then he held the boy's head still and used the wet hole ruthlessly.
Logan struggled, trying to jerk away and gagging when the other man thrust deeper. His hands moved to push him back, and his thumbs found those spots right above his hips. Pushing hard, he used the trick Jack had taught him as he tried to get away.
He tasted wrong. He tasted wrong, and he felt wrong. He couldn't just close his eyes and pretend it was Jack. There was no chance of just letting it happen. Logan was too much of a fighter. He always had been, and always would be- even now when it felt like he'd lost everything.
John hissed in pain and jerked away, hauling off and slapping Logan across the face. "Taught you a few things, did he?" he asked, rubbing his hip to make the pain ebb. "Not surprised. He always did like to have it hurt, even if he had to show someone just how to do it. Don't think I like you doing it to me, though. I'm the one who always like the hurting more than the being hurt, see?"
In a flash he was on Logan again, reaching for one hand. The Agent knew just what he was doing and the speed and brutality left little to the imagination. It wasn't romance, it wasn't nice. He was a monster and he knew it. More than that, he liked it. With one smooth move, Logan's wrist made a sound like a snapping twig and then John was done, backing off.
"You've got a couple hundred more. I don't mind breaking you, bit by bit, boy. See, thing is, I can fix you back up with that machine over there...so we can do this dance forever..."
Logan cried out loudly, cradling his wrist and letting out a sharp sob. "Fuck," he hissed, biting his lip and willing himself not to react anymore than he already had. He didn't want to give John what he wanted. He didn't want to let him enjoy it. He didn't want him to get whatever thrill he was looking for.
It hurt though, it really hurt, and he held his arm to his chest as he took a deep breath.
Losing interest momentarily, John wandered away. He picked up the tattered remnants of Logan's pants and rifled through the pockets to see what was there. Nothing of value, that was for certain, but what was there, he studied intently. He'd read Logan well while they'd still been in the pub and it was enough...he was only the tiniest bit curious to know more. He was only the tiniest bit curious to know why this boy, of all boys, was someone Jack would marry. It had to be a con of some sort...except he knew it wasn't.
"So...Logan. When did he pick you up? Not long, I'd wager. What...less than a year, right?" It had only been months since Torchwood had fallen apart and Jack's signal had vanished from the world. That was part of why he'd been so surprised to see the signal of the strap reappear in London of all places.
"I met him three years ago," Logan replied quietly. "We weren't friendly for a while, but after my divorce- it changed. We've been a thing for over a year. I dunno how long we've been a couple though. Depends on who you ask."
He was talking about Jack as if he was still around, and the realization that he wasn't hit him hard, making his throat tightn and his breath hitch. "We only got married a few weeks ago. We'd been engaged for a while and one day Jack just suggested we go do it. So we did. We didn't tell anyone, we just signed the paper and spent the weekend in bed."
"How romantic," he replied derisively. "I think I'm going to be sick. Married..."
John shook his head again and stalked back to Logan's side and caught him by the throat, lifting him to his toes. For being as lithe and wiry as he was, John was remarkably strong. Almost inhumanly strong.
"Sorry to cut the honeymoon short," he smirked. "Trust me, it's better this way. He would have just left you eventually. At least now that he's dead you can rest easy that he hadn't gotten tired of you. Yet."
Struggling hard, Logan tried to free himself from John's grip, gasping and coughing before losing his temper and spitting. Pain shot through him again and he whimpered as he tried to get free. "You're wrong," he gasped, kicking and struggling. "You don't know him anymore. You don't know how much he'd changed."
Bringing his knee up, he caught John hard in the groin before taking a swing, aiming for the kidney, Just like Jack always did.
"Ohh, he really did show you some things," John exhaled, stepping back but keeping his eyes on Logan's face. "You're not half bad...but did he show you this?"
John launched a full on assault, the pain shooting through him like a drug and winding him up. He punched and kicked, blocked and shoved, never tiring and never, never backing off to give Logan time to catch a breath.
The beating went on for a while, and Logan could only fight back so uch with his wrist broken. A mess, he practically collapsed, tasting blood and spitting on the floorbefore bringing his arms up to defend himself. He ached all over, and he was sure this was how he'd die. Beaten and bloody with every last bone in his body broken.
"Stop," he gasped softly. "Just stop."
"Oh, come on," John sneered. "That's as long as you can keep up? Pathetic." He shook his head and sauntered to the other side of the room, hips rolling with every step. through the whole beating he'd hardly begun to breathe harder. He took what Looked like a gun and aimed it at Logan. It hummed briefly and then a beam came from it, hitting the boy squarely and fixing him up. No fun playing with a toy that wouldn't play back.
"Now. Round two. What should I break this time?"
Retreating back into the corner with his back against the wall, Logan didn't answer. He was fairly sure it didn't matter what he said anyway, the other man would do whatever he wanted anyway.
After a moment though, he spoke up. "Why did you kill him?" he asked quietly. If he matters so much, if he was worth all this, why kill him? Why take me? He won't know what you did to me, he'll never know- So what's the point? You already took him away from me. You won. So just let me go."
"You're not very good at this," he snorted. "You're my prisoner. This? This is just to have a little fun. To see what's so special about you that Jack would tell me no. I can see why he'd feel like he had to protect you, but, really, you're not even worthy of his attention. What did you do? Drug him? Blackmail him? Did you get the upper hand once and torture him until he loved you, is that what happened?"
Enough questions. Questions he didn't care if they were answered. John simply strolled to the corner and yanked Logan to his feet before dragging him over to a metal and leather contraption that looked like it ought to be in a dungeon during the Inquisition. John forced Logan to bend over and strapped one arm to it, just to keep him in place.
"That's why you're doing this? You want to know why he was with me? I'll tell you why. Because I loved him, all of him. I loved how he smiled, and I loved how he looked when he lost his temper. He loved me because I could handle him, and because I never ran away. Because I needed him, and he needed me..."
He fought hard as John dragged him along, struggling all the way across the room. "He liked that I'd play games with him and that I was always up for whatever he wanted. We were good for each other."
He swung hard, his fist connecting with the other man's jaw, and he grinned before doing it again. It felt good, really good, and he let out all the anger that had been building- only to get another shock and stop.
John took the punches and shook them off. As the inhibitor kicked in, he took the opportunity to strap Logan down while he was in pain. By the time the device cut out, Logan was strapped in place with his chest pressed to iron bars and his arms outstretched. .It leaned forward slightly, putting the boy off balance and keeping him on his toe...literally. John took the opportunity to admire the boys rather nice ass. At least, he thought, Jack had taste. He always picked the prettiest beings.
"You look like you're a great fuck," he mused. "I bet that didn't hurt with the whole 'love and marriage' thing." John grabbed Logan's ass roughly and then slapped it, only to grab him again. "Think I'll want to marry you, too?"
That one question gave away the bulk of John's plan. His plan for now.
Logan tensed at the feeling of the other man's hand on him, twisting and trying to get away. "Don't touch me. Don't touch me, you- Just don't. Is this what you do? You have to tie people up just to get laid? You're sad, you know that? You're pathetic. No wonder Jack got sick of you. It must have been tiring being with someone who needed to be paid attention too all the time. Someone who only knew how to be violent. So fucking boring."
John's eyes flashed dark and he drew back to sink a hard fist into the softness of Logan's waist. Every touch was either designed to hurt the boy or demean him and he beat and groped Logan without much regard for what he was saying. Except he heard every word and it only enraged him more. Not enough to gag him, though...that wouldn't have been nearly as fun.
"You...have no idea what we had, Jack and me. We were amazing. Unstoppable." Another punch crashed into an already bruised area. "We were the thing of legends, boy. Epic. You can't even imagine."
"I can imagine," Logan gasped. "I can imagine him carrying all the weight and cleaning up your mess all the time. I can imagine him putting up with your shit when there was no one better to take to bed."
He struggled hard again, trying to free his hands and swearing when he couldn't. "Hurry up and just do something, I don't feel like listening to you."
While John wasn't the most obedient of people, he couldn't deny that the boy had a valid point. Hurry up. He was tired of listening to the smart ass. He gave Logan's head a sharp shove into the bars of the frame and then kicked his legs apart. It granted him access so he could shove two spit slick fingers into him to see just how rough he needed to be to ruin Jack's favorite toy just a little bit more. There was no illusion that it was about sex- although John could have made Logan moan in ways that no human normally got to. No...this was violence, pure and simple. Violence and pain, and he didn't stop for words, cries, or pleas. John didn't stop. Ever.
Logan could have protested, he could have begged, but he knew enough to know that it wasn't worth his breath. It hurt, not just because it was painful, but because he'd promised Jack that he'd never let anyone else touch him there. He'd never let anyone else have him. ...He had no choice, but it still broke his heart, and he hung limp in his bonds as he closed his eyes and tried to block it all out.
He felt violated and filthy, and he knew they'd only just begun.
It went on for hours. John didn't talk. He didn't mock the boy or bait him. He simply used him, beat him, then left him to hang for a bit while he went about his business. When Logan went pale or began to shake too badly, John would point the ray at him and heal him up...only to beat and rape him all over again. When he finally couldn't get hard anymore, and cursed his biology and lack of pharmaceutical help, he started in on what he had handy around the room.
"What's the matter?" he asked, licking a line through the sweat and dirt on Logan's neck. "You don't seem like you like this. Come on, pet. You could at least moan. Let a fellow know when he hits just the right spot." To punctuate that, he shoved a hard, unforgivingly large toy into the boy's body.
By the time John shoved the toy inside of him, Logan was as good as broken. He'd tried to be strong, for Jack's sake, because he knew that's what Jack would have wanted him to be. Except it was so much easier to think than do, it hadn't taken long for him to shatter, and he hung limp in his bonds. His cheeks were tear stained, and he shook every now and then, his muscles flexing as he tipped his head back and tried to compose himself.
Hours became days. John seemed to know just when to stop. He'd leave Logan hanging for a while, use the ray, feed him and let him sleep a little,, and then the abuse began again. He, himself, seemed tireless. This would have been so much better with Jack. Jack who couldn't die. Jack who got off on it after a while. Jack who had been his partner and would be again. This mewling little kitten, this child, he was nowhere near good enough for Jack. With every fresh round of abuse, rape, torture...and respite...John was more sure of that.
"How long are you going to keep me here?" Logan asked quietly, his eyes slipping shut as he swallowed hard. "Aren't you tired? I'm tired. I just ant to lay down. Let me lay down."
Logan could take an amazing amount of abuse, but not this much. He had tough skin, but he'd never been trained to deal with torture. He'd never learned how to live through this sort of treatment.
"Oh, poor baby," John purred, smoothing his hand over Logan's hair. As derisive as he sounded, his touch was surprisingly gentle. He'd moved on to the next phase...though he wasn't going to let Logan know that. The target couldn't know or else it wouldn't work.
"Fine, you whiney brat. Go lay down." And just like that, John unbound him and let him go. The room was locked and the Agent was right there. He clearly wasn't worried about Logan making a break for it. He simply stood in his red coat and tall boots and waited for the boy to do as he pleased.
Logan looked genuinely surprised. Still, any relief he might have felt was instantly replaced with humiliation as he crumpled to the floor, his body healed but still exhausted- to the point it was hard to walk. Humiliated, he crawled over to the cot, pulling himself up and curling up on the mattress. It was lumpy and thin, but somehow it felt like heaven. Curled up, naked and broken, he looked smaller than usual.
"How long have we been here?" he asked.
"A week and a half," John lied smoothly. It hadn't been quite that long. He was sure he could have said two months and the boy would have believed him. Without windows or clocks, time meant nothing. It was a dangerous thing, losing track of time. It could be deadly to an Agent. But Logan was no Agent and it was just one more way John had control over him.
"You can sleep if you like. You look so tired," he said, deceptively gently. "Here...let me help with that."
John walked over to where Logan lay and picked up a blindfold. It took little effort to secure it into place and rob the boy of sight, but he didn't do anything else other than grope him a little. A very little.
"You know, you're really not bad looking," he said, the groping becoming something far less obnoxious. His hands were cold but amazingly gentle...compared to how he'd been touching Logan. He petted him lightly, soothing away fear and tension. It was hypnotic, the repetition, lulling Logan into a calm state.
Logan relaxed slowly, though he really didn't want to. His body betrayed him though, and he uncurled a little, the loss of sight making it easier. He was tired though, exhausted, and he broke down a little as he let out a sob.
"Don't touch me," he whispered softly. "Just stop touching me."
"Don't think I will, pet," the Agent answered, his hands working magic on the boy's tired body. He knew just where to touch to bring pain, but he knew just where to touch to bring pleasure, too. His fingers moved lightly, teasing over skin and bone, working the nerves until he was sure Logan was alight with need. He looked down and decided he'd done just enough and then took the boy's cock in hand and began to stroke.
"You've been such a trooper. I think even Jack would insist you get one good go before I kill you...don't you?" He leaned over Logan and brushed his lips against the boy's mouth. "Don't make me tie you down for this. It'll be so much better if you just lay back and think of...whatever it is you need to think of."
Logan shook his head, finding his second wind as he reached up and ripped off the blindfold. He shoved the agent away, shaking with anger and then pain as it ripped through him. "Stop."
"Don't touch me, don't even look at me. I told you, if you want to kill me, just get it over with. Just stop touching me like that. You're not him, you'll never be him, and nothing you do is going to get to me. So just kill me. I don't care how."
John laughed. It began as a low, indulgent chuckle and then bloomed into a full, rolling chorus. "Oh dear," he managed to say, wiping his hand on his jeans as if he'd gotten something vile on it from touching Logan's prick. "Maybe I do see what he's drawn to. You're a firecracker, you are. You just keep going. Well then. Time for another round."
He jerked Logan from the bed and wrestled him onto his feet. Once the boy was up, John locked his arm around Logan's throat and very nearly cut off all air. Feeling the struggling body against him just got him hard again and he wondered just how much damage he really could do to the boy without killing him. Death seemed to be all he wanted, and John simply couldn't give in to that. It was only fun killing people who wanted to live.
Logan struggled hard, gasping for air when it started getting hard to breathe. He kicked and elbowed the other man, panting and crying out as he swore. He wouldn't get away, he knew that, but he'd always struggle, he'd fight until the other man finally snuffed him out. He couldn't help it, it was just part of who he was. He was a fighter, he always had been and he always would be.
It was what Jack had always loved about him.
John released his hold long enough for Logan to catch a breath or three and then was manhandling him to a table. He hip-checked him onto it, satisfied by the terrible tud of the boy's heavy body hitting the wood. He hadn't yet used the rack...not on anyone. It was, of course, a struggle to catch each arm and leg in turn and secure it in the shackles at the corners, but he finally managed. The sight of the boy, naked and stretched out...gorgeous. Yes- Jack had an eye for the pretty ones.
"All right, all right," he finally said. "Calm down. There's nothing in you that a little dislocation won't fix." And then he spun the wheel and the ropes began to tighten, pulling Logan in both directions at once.
It was like something out of a film. A bad film. People didn't do this sort of thing in real life. Except they did, Logan had just never seen himself living a life where he'd find himself in this sort of situation.
His body was pulled taut, and he gasped, even as he built his wall back up and hid behind it, his face blank and bland. He wasn't going to break again, he wasn't going to fall apart. He wouldn't, no matter how badly it hurt.
The Agent grinned down at the boy, his teeth peeking out behind the split of his lips. The creak of the rope, the groan of the wood, and the song of flesh was something he loved...if he loved anything at all. He did, but it was in a special, fucked up way. He loved Jack, he knew that. Soon, he would leave this broken husk of a boy in this room to starve, used up and forgotten. He'd go back to London, find Jack, and try again. Until then, well, John kept spinning the wheel and waited for the sickening crunch of bones coming free of their sockets.
Logan screamed for the first time since John had taken him, the sound echoing off the walls as he felt as if he was being ripped apart. Though really, in a way, that was exactly what was happening.
It hurt like nothing had hurt before, and he lay still, as if he was afraid to move even an inch. ...Truthfully, he wasn't sure he could move, not without causing himself more pain, and he let out a short cry before screaming again. It was killing him, but he didn't beg, staying as composed as he could as the other man looked down at him.
"Thing of beauty," John mused, dragging his hand down Logan's chest and belly. "You know, they used to do this with horses. Tie a limb to each horse and then spur them off to the four corners. Now that made for some good entertainment. You come in a close second, though. Love the tune, but you're a little pitchy."
He laughed at his own joke and abandoned the wheel so he could use both hands to poke and prod Logan's shoulders and knees. The wheel had done its work well, and as soon as he was satisfied, he returned his attention to Logan's cock. Stroking the flaccid flesh, John coaxed a little life into it, then a little more. Once Logan was stiff enough, he bent over the tortured form and took him into his mouth. There were few people who could give head as good as Jack Harkness. John...John was one of them.
Logan choked on a cry, letting out a sob and breathing heavy. the pleasure and the pain mingled and his body betrayed him yet again asshis cock throbbed against John's tongue. He hated himself in that moment, more than he'd ever hated himself before in his life. His cheeks burned red, and in his mind he was apologizing to Jack, begging for his forgiveness.
John moved smoothly, practiced as he was. It didn't take long and the sounds Logan was making were divine. He let go briefly and let his hand take over as he looked up the length of the boy's torso at his anguished face.
"Cry sexier," he smirked, then returned his mouth to its business.
Logan sobbed louder, not for John, but because he couldn't stop himself. Pain shot through him, but the pleasure kept building. It built and it built- and when he came, it was like agony. It shot through him, and he shook, sobbing even louder and then going still as he passed out.
He pulled away and spit the wad on Logan's stomach before untying the lifeless form. He wasn't going to carry the boy and there was no way he could move on his own anymore, so the Agent went to the ray again to repair the newest damage. It was a game he hadn't tired of entirely, but he was growing weary. Logan was about as broken as he was going to get. The ray worked quickly and then John waited. When Logan woke up, it was time to end it. He figured that once the boy was dead, he could take that ring he wore...finger and all for an added touch of horror...back to Jack. Yes, that would kill the former Agent's spirit a little. And likely incite a fantastic fight in the process.
Logan lay on his side, his arms wrapped tightly around himself as he let out another sob. The abuse was catching up with him, and he closed his eyes as he tried to block it out. Not that it worked. It never worked.
Shaking, he slowly sat up before getting to his feet, starting towards the bed- this time hopefully to sleep. He needed to sleep. Shivering, he climbed into bed, his arms wrapped himself as he shuddered.
John let the boy lay down and get comfortable. He took the time to go to a table and select a knife. It wasn't an easy task- The boy would struggle and fight. He needed something sharp that would do the trick, but not so big it was unwieldy. He needed a good grip so he could make it quick and get it over with. He finally found the blade he wanted, then strolled to the bed where Logan lay.
"Time," was all he said, then he grabbed Logan's chin to force his head back and pressed the blade to his throat.
Logan didn't struggle, if anything, he was grateful. His life had ended the moment he'd lost Jack, there was nothing left to live for, and every moment here with John had only brought pain and agony. Closing his damp eyes, he offered the other man his throat, silently begging him to do it.
That didn't stop him from shaking though. Willing or not, he was still scared, and his nose ran as he closed his eyes tighter and let out a shuddering breath.
The blade was right against his neck- and then gone. A warm hand held his shoulder, and Jack's voice was loud and clear. For a moment, he wondered if he was in heaven- But no, Logan didn't believe in that sort of thing, and as he rolled over it became clear that the island had dragged them home just in time.
Jack was alive, and everything was going to be okay.
John was written by Shan in this thread. :)
He was alone for the time being, and the large room was quiet- but not empty. There were tools and furniture- and though it was nothing like the room he and Jack had used back in Neptune, there were a few pieces of furniture that looked familiar. Other things, however, reminded him of things he'd seen in textbooks and museums. Tools he knew the use for but never wanted to experience.
Shaking, he tried again to free himself, but there was no chance of slipping out of the knots John had tied. He was helpless, and Jack- Jack was gone.
His husband, his partner, his everything was gone. ...His life was as good as over.
John had walked away for a bit before the anger and jealousy got the best of him. Sure, he could have beaten and killed the boy and been done with it, but where was the fun in that? From a lifetime of experience he knew it would be worse all around if he returned this new bit of eyecandy to Jack a ruined wreck. Dead was just too trite.
He wandered back into the room, fed and rested and well liquored. The very sight of the boy made him burn. Husband...how dare Jack. Who did he think he was? Normal? Get married and the next thing you knew you were settled, and John thought that was a fate worst than death. No. No, when he was finished with this young man, there wouldn't be any chance of settling.
"You were comfortable, I trust?" he asked, his tone dripping saccharine sweet from his lips. "Come on, then. Up on your feet. So much to do, nothing but time."
Logan said nothing, looking at the stranger for only a moment before looking away, his gaze fixed on the wall and his face blank. Jack had never finished training him, at his own request, and he realized now that he had no idea how he was supposed to survive. ...Not that he was sure surviving mattered. It wasn't as if he had much to live for without Jack. It was simply a loss he wasn't sure he could recover from.
"If you're going to kill me, just do it," he said finally. "I'm not going to beg for my life, so just get it over with."
"Tut tut," John scolded softly, coming closer with a deceptive gentleness. He reached out and ran his hand against Logan's skin, noting just how warm the boy was. Or maybe it was that his hand was cold. His hands were always cold.
"I'm not going to kill you," he assured Logan, then bent in so his lips were close to his ear. "And that ought to scare you, boy. I don't care what you beg for. I took you from Jack, so now you're mine."
"No," Logan replied simply, leaning back and kicking the stranger hard with his bound legs. "I'm not yours. I'm never going to be yours. You can take me away from him, but I'll always be Jack's. -Same way he'll always be mine now. You lost him, and even if you killed him, it doesn't matter, he's my husband. He died as my husband. Get over it."
John kicked him back, one heavy boot meeting the younger man's skin with a hard crack. He held nothing back when he punched Logan in the gut, either.
"That's right," he drawled. "He's dead, and I killed him." He wondered if Logan knew that with Jack, pesky things like dying didn't stick. Nothing ever stuck to Jack...and wasn't that an infuriating thought? "But maybe so. Maybe you're his. You know, we used to be partners. Back then we shared everything. I don't think he'd mind a bit if I played with you for a bit." He punched Logan again, then again, just letting off some excess energy and enjoying the sound of fists and flesh and exhalations of pain more than any sane person might.
Logan couldn't defend himself, not with his hands tied, and he curled his body away from the attack as he closed his eyes and focused on simply breathing. John's fists were wild, and he couldn't find a pattern to were the hits would land. All Logan could do was take it. He had a sinking feeling that was something he'd need to get used to.
His fingers itched to swing back, and he struggled even as he drew away, curled up in the corner, bruised and breathing hard. "Stop," he panted. "Just stop. ...If you want to fight me, be a man and untie me."
"What makes you think I want to fight you?" John laughed, landing one more punch before he stepped away. "I just want to make you scream, pet. We have all the time in the universe. I could do this for decades, and then slip back and get that stone. You've no idea the freedom a person has when they travel in time. You'll fall in love with me before I'm through with you."
With that, John walked away to a table with an array of toys and weapons and tech jumbled on it in no particular order. He knew what he was looking for, though. He found the small round thing that looked like a box that a precious gem might be displayed in, then he returned to Logan. Stepping behind him, he pressed it against the base of the boy's skull and held it in place until it had firmly attached itself to Logan's flesh.
"There. That's better," he purred, beginning to untie the boy. "Nothing like an inhibitor to give me the upper hand. That registers biochemical flow from your brain. Get angry? Get hurt. Have fun with that."
Logan started to fight, only to cry out a moment later, holding his head and doubling over. It hurt, and it felt as if the pain was coming from inside his skull. It was like nothing he'd ever felt before, and he closed his eyes as he tried to catch his breath.
Looking up he met the other man's eyes with his own, shaking a little and finally taking him in. He was older than Jack. At least he looked older. Lean and pale where Jack was broad and tall. He had a look in his eyes that made Logan's stomach turn over, and he swallowed hard before speaking up. "Did you plan this?" he asked, his brow creasing as he tried to stay calm.
"Plan? I'm not much for plans. That's our boy Jack's specialty. Me, I don't plan. I act," John replied. Watching the younger man deal with the agony of the device was a beautiful thing and he almost hoped the boy would get upset a little more often. He would, if John had anything to say about it. "I've been putting a few things together since I brought you here, but this was supposed to be for him. Not you. Don't suppose you'll be half the fun he would have been. We go back, you know, he and I. I know just how to make him scream. You...you're going to take a little work."
"I don't scream," Logan growled, hissing as the pain shot through him again, making him duck his head. "I don't scream, and I won't give you what you want. You think you can hurt me? Go ahead. I can take it. I'm not afraid. I'm not scared of you. Joe and Dale will find me. It's just a matter of time. Do whatever you want."
He didn't want to think about the other man and Jack, of what Jack would have done if their roles had been reversed. He'd have been angry, sure, but he enjoyed danger. Logan couldn't help but wonder if he would have wanted this. If maybe he would have eventually relaxed or gotten into it. After all, this was Jack's sort of game.
"Oh, I intend to. I intend to do anything and everything I want," John answered coldly.
He undressed Logan with a knife, the blade cutting the boy's clothes to ribbons before the dropped away. Struggling was rewarded with sound hits and he wasn't ovely careful with the knife. By the time Logan was naked, he was bleeding from several nicks and cuts. John looked at him like little more than meat while he was working, but once he was done, he licked his lips and put the blade against Logan's throat.
"Get on your knees. I'm going to give you something to suck on, and if you don't do it just right, I'll take one of your eyes out," he said evenly.
Logan rubbed his wrists, looking down at the cuts on his body and shivering as he looked away. He didn't wonder if the threat was real, Jack had warned him what John was like- he'd even shown him and told him about the things they'd done together in the past. The threat was real, and even if Joe and Dale were coming, he couldn't be sure of how long it would take.
"Please don't," he said finally. "I'm sorry if I pissed you off before, but- just don't make me do that. Just take me back. I want to be with Jack. I want to say goodbye before they bury him. Don't you want to say goodbye? I don't believe you meant to kill him. You love him."
"If I hadn't meant to kill him, I would have shot him in the ass. Not the head," he said coldly, the anger at this boy's runaway mouth bleeding through. He reached down and caught Logan's hair and gave it a sharp jerk while his other hand undid his fly. He didn't bother to take off the gun belts, he simply pulled out his cock and pulled Logan forward. He didn't need much, just enough space to get it in, and then he held the boy's head still and used the wet hole ruthlessly.
Logan struggled, trying to jerk away and gagging when the other man thrust deeper. His hands moved to push him back, and his thumbs found those spots right above his hips. Pushing hard, he used the trick Jack had taught him as he tried to get away.
He tasted wrong. He tasted wrong, and he felt wrong. He couldn't just close his eyes and pretend it was Jack. There was no chance of just letting it happen. Logan was too much of a fighter. He always had been, and always would be- even now when it felt like he'd lost everything.
John hissed in pain and jerked away, hauling off and slapping Logan across the face. "Taught you a few things, did he?" he asked, rubbing his hip to make the pain ebb. "Not surprised. He always did like to have it hurt, even if he had to show someone just how to do it. Don't think I like you doing it to me, though. I'm the one who always like the hurting more than the being hurt, see?"
In a flash he was on Logan again, reaching for one hand. The Agent knew just what he was doing and the speed and brutality left little to the imagination. It wasn't romance, it wasn't nice. He was a monster and he knew it. More than that, he liked it. With one smooth move, Logan's wrist made a sound like a snapping twig and then John was done, backing off.
"You've got a couple hundred more. I don't mind breaking you, bit by bit, boy. See, thing is, I can fix you back up with that machine over there...so we can do this dance forever..."
Logan cried out loudly, cradling his wrist and letting out a sharp sob. "Fuck," he hissed, biting his lip and willing himself not to react anymore than he already had. He didn't want to give John what he wanted. He didn't want to let him enjoy it. He didn't want him to get whatever thrill he was looking for.
It hurt though, it really hurt, and he held his arm to his chest as he took a deep breath.
Losing interest momentarily, John wandered away. He picked up the tattered remnants of Logan's pants and rifled through the pockets to see what was there. Nothing of value, that was for certain, but what was there, he studied intently. He'd read Logan well while they'd still been in the pub and it was enough...he was only the tiniest bit curious to know more. He was only the tiniest bit curious to know why this boy, of all boys, was someone Jack would marry. It had to be a con of some sort...except he knew it wasn't.
"So...Logan. When did he pick you up? Not long, I'd wager. What...less than a year, right?" It had only been months since Torchwood had fallen apart and Jack's signal had vanished from the world. That was part of why he'd been so surprised to see the signal of the strap reappear in London of all places.
"I met him three years ago," Logan replied quietly. "We weren't friendly for a while, but after my divorce- it changed. We've been a thing for over a year. I dunno how long we've been a couple though. Depends on who you ask."
He was talking about Jack as if he was still around, and the realization that he wasn't hit him hard, making his throat tightn and his breath hitch. "We only got married a few weeks ago. We'd been engaged for a while and one day Jack just suggested we go do it. So we did. We didn't tell anyone, we just signed the paper and spent the weekend in bed."
"How romantic," he replied derisively. "I think I'm going to be sick. Married..."
John shook his head again and stalked back to Logan's side and caught him by the throat, lifting him to his toes. For being as lithe and wiry as he was, John was remarkably strong. Almost inhumanly strong.
"Sorry to cut the honeymoon short," he smirked. "Trust me, it's better this way. He would have just left you eventually. At least now that he's dead you can rest easy that he hadn't gotten tired of you. Yet."
Struggling hard, Logan tried to free himself from John's grip, gasping and coughing before losing his temper and spitting. Pain shot through him again and he whimpered as he tried to get free. "You're wrong," he gasped, kicking and struggling. "You don't know him anymore. You don't know how much he'd changed."
Bringing his knee up, he caught John hard in the groin before taking a swing, aiming for the kidney, Just like Jack always did.
"Ohh, he really did show you some things," John exhaled, stepping back but keeping his eyes on Logan's face. "You're not half bad...but did he show you this?"
John launched a full on assault, the pain shooting through him like a drug and winding him up. He punched and kicked, blocked and shoved, never tiring and never, never backing off to give Logan time to catch a breath.
The beating went on for a while, and Logan could only fight back so uch with his wrist broken. A mess, he practically collapsed, tasting blood and spitting on the floorbefore bringing his arms up to defend himself. He ached all over, and he was sure this was how he'd die. Beaten and bloody with every last bone in his body broken.
"Stop," he gasped softly. "Just stop."
"Oh, come on," John sneered. "That's as long as you can keep up? Pathetic." He shook his head and sauntered to the other side of the room, hips rolling with every step. through the whole beating he'd hardly begun to breathe harder. He took what Looked like a gun and aimed it at Logan. It hummed briefly and then a beam came from it, hitting the boy squarely and fixing him up. No fun playing with a toy that wouldn't play back.
"Now. Round two. What should I break this time?"
Retreating back into the corner with his back against the wall, Logan didn't answer. He was fairly sure it didn't matter what he said anyway, the other man would do whatever he wanted anyway.
After a moment though, he spoke up. "Why did you kill him?" he asked quietly. If he matters so much, if he was worth all this, why kill him? Why take me? He won't know what you did to me, he'll never know- So what's the point? You already took him away from me. You won. So just let me go."
"You're not very good at this," he snorted. "You're my prisoner. This? This is just to have a little fun. To see what's so special about you that Jack would tell me no. I can see why he'd feel like he had to protect you, but, really, you're not even worthy of his attention. What did you do? Drug him? Blackmail him? Did you get the upper hand once and torture him until he loved you, is that what happened?"
Enough questions. Questions he didn't care if they were answered. John simply strolled to the corner and yanked Logan to his feet before dragging him over to a metal and leather contraption that looked like it ought to be in a dungeon during the Inquisition. John forced Logan to bend over and strapped one arm to it, just to keep him in place.
"That's why you're doing this? You want to know why he was with me? I'll tell you why. Because I loved him, all of him. I loved how he smiled, and I loved how he looked when he lost his temper. He loved me because I could handle him, and because I never ran away. Because I needed him, and he needed me..."
He fought hard as John dragged him along, struggling all the way across the room. "He liked that I'd play games with him and that I was always up for whatever he wanted. We were good for each other."
He swung hard, his fist connecting with the other man's jaw, and he grinned before doing it again. It felt good, really good, and he let out all the anger that had been building- only to get another shock and stop.
John took the punches and shook them off. As the inhibitor kicked in, he took the opportunity to strap Logan down while he was in pain. By the time the device cut out, Logan was strapped in place with his chest pressed to iron bars and his arms outstretched. .It leaned forward slightly, putting the boy off balance and keeping him on his toe...literally. John took the opportunity to admire the boys rather nice ass. At least, he thought, Jack had taste. He always picked the prettiest beings.
"You look like you're a great fuck," he mused. "I bet that didn't hurt with the whole 'love and marriage' thing." John grabbed Logan's ass roughly and then slapped it, only to grab him again. "Think I'll want to marry you, too?"
That one question gave away the bulk of John's plan. His plan for now.
Logan tensed at the feeling of the other man's hand on him, twisting and trying to get away. "Don't touch me. Don't touch me, you- Just don't. Is this what you do? You have to tie people up just to get laid? You're sad, you know that? You're pathetic. No wonder Jack got sick of you. It must have been tiring being with someone who needed to be paid attention too all the time. Someone who only knew how to be violent. So fucking boring."
John's eyes flashed dark and he drew back to sink a hard fist into the softness of Logan's waist. Every touch was either designed to hurt the boy or demean him and he beat and groped Logan without much regard for what he was saying. Except he heard every word and it only enraged him more. Not enough to gag him, though...that wouldn't have been nearly as fun.
"You...have no idea what we had, Jack and me. We were amazing. Unstoppable." Another punch crashed into an already bruised area. "We were the thing of legends, boy. Epic. You can't even imagine."
"I can imagine," Logan gasped. "I can imagine him carrying all the weight and cleaning up your mess all the time. I can imagine him putting up with your shit when there was no one better to take to bed."
He struggled hard again, trying to free his hands and swearing when he couldn't. "Hurry up and just do something, I don't feel like listening to you."
While John wasn't the most obedient of people, he couldn't deny that the boy had a valid point. Hurry up. He was tired of listening to the smart ass. He gave Logan's head a sharp shove into the bars of the frame and then kicked his legs apart. It granted him access so he could shove two spit slick fingers into him to see just how rough he needed to be to ruin Jack's favorite toy just a little bit more. There was no illusion that it was about sex- although John could have made Logan moan in ways that no human normally got to. No...this was violence, pure and simple. Violence and pain, and he didn't stop for words, cries, or pleas. John didn't stop. Ever.
Logan could have protested, he could have begged, but he knew enough to know that it wasn't worth his breath. It hurt, not just because it was painful, but because he'd promised Jack that he'd never let anyone else touch him there. He'd never let anyone else have him. ...He had no choice, but it still broke his heart, and he hung limp in his bonds as he closed his eyes and tried to block it all out.
He felt violated and filthy, and he knew they'd only just begun.
It went on for hours. John didn't talk. He didn't mock the boy or bait him. He simply used him, beat him, then left him to hang for a bit while he went about his business. When Logan went pale or began to shake too badly, John would point the ray at him and heal him up...only to beat and rape him all over again. When he finally couldn't get hard anymore, and cursed his biology and lack of pharmaceutical help, he started in on what he had handy around the room.
"What's the matter?" he asked, licking a line through the sweat and dirt on Logan's neck. "You don't seem like you like this. Come on, pet. You could at least moan. Let a fellow know when he hits just the right spot." To punctuate that, he shoved a hard, unforgivingly large toy into the boy's body.
By the time John shoved the toy inside of him, Logan was as good as broken. He'd tried to be strong, for Jack's sake, because he knew that's what Jack would have wanted him to be. Except it was so much easier to think than do, it hadn't taken long for him to shatter, and he hung limp in his bonds. His cheeks were tear stained, and he shook every now and then, his muscles flexing as he tipped his head back and tried to compose himself.
Hours became days. John seemed to know just when to stop. He'd leave Logan hanging for a while, use the ray, feed him and let him sleep a little,, and then the abuse began again. He, himself, seemed tireless. This would have been so much better with Jack. Jack who couldn't die. Jack who got off on it after a while. Jack who had been his partner and would be again. This mewling little kitten, this child, he was nowhere near good enough for Jack. With every fresh round of abuse, rape, torture...and respite...John was more sure of that.
"How long are you going to keep me here?" Logan asked quietly, his eyes slipping shut as he swallowed hard. "Aren't you tired? I'm tired. I just ant to lay down. Let me lay down."
Logan could take an amazing amount of abuse, but not this much. He had tough skin, but he'd never been trained to deal with torture. He'd never learned how to live through this sort of treatment.
"Oh, poor baby," John purred, smoothing his hand over Logan's hair. As derisive as he sounded, his touch was surprisingly gentle. He'd moved on to the next phase...though he wasn't going to let Logan know that. The target couldn't know or else it wouldn't work.
"Fine, you whiney brat. Go lay down." And just like that, John unbound him and let him go. The room was locked and the Agent was right there. He clearly wasn't worried about Logan making a break for it. He simply stood in his red coat and tall boots and waited for the boy to do as he pleased.
Logan looked genuinely surprised. Still, any relief he might have felt was instantly replaced with humiliation as he crumpled to the floor, his body healed but still exhausted- to the point it was hard to walk. Humiliated, he crawled over to the cot, pulling himself up and curling up on the mattress. It was lumpy and thin, but somehow it felt like heaven. Curled up, naked and broken, he looked smaller than usual.
"How long have we been here?" he asked.
"A week and a half," John lied smoothly. It hadn't been quite that long. He was sure he could have said two months and the boy would have believed him. Without windows or clocks, time meant nothing. It was a dangerous thing, losing track of time. It could be deadly to an Agent. But Logan was no Agent and it was just one more way John had control over him.
"You can sleep if you like. You look so tired," he said, deceptively gently. "Here...let me help with that."
John walked over to where Logan lay and picked up a blindfold. It took little effort to secure it into place and rob the boy of sight, but he didn't do anything else other than grope him a little. A very little.
"You know, you're really not bad looking," he said, the groping becoming something far less obnoxious. His hands were cold but amazingly gentle...compared to how he'd been touching Logan. He petted him lightly, soothing away fear and tension. It was hypnotic, the repetition, lulling Logan into a calm state.
Logan relaxed slowly, though he really didn't want to. His body betrayed him though, and he uncurled a little, the loss of sight making it easier. He was tired though, exhausted, and he broke down a little as he let out a sob.
"Don't touch me," he whispered softly. "Just stop touching me."
"Don't think I will, pet," the Agent answered, his hands working magic on the boy's tired body. He knew just where to touch to bring pain, but he knew just where to touch to bring pleasure, too. His fingers moved lightly, teasing over skin and bone, working the nerves until he was sure Logan was alight with need. He looked down and decided he'd done just enough and then took the boy's cock in hand and began to stroke.
"You've been such a trooper. I think even Jack would insist you get one good go before I kill you...don't you?" He leaned over Logan and brushed his lips against the boy's mouth. "Don't make me tie you down for this. It'll be so much better if you just lay back and think of...whatever it is you need to think of."
Logan shook his head, finding his second wind as he reached up and ripped off the blindfold. He shoved the agent away, shaking with anger and then pain as it ripped through him. "Stop."
"Don't touch me, don't even look at me. I told you, if you want to kill me, just get it over with. Just stop touching me like that. You're not him, you'll never be him, and nothing you do is going to get to me. So just kill me. I don't care how."
John laughed. It began as a low, indulgent chuckle and then bloomed into a full, rolling chorus. "Oh dear," he managed to say, wiping his hand on his jeans as if he'd gotten something vile on it from touching Logan's prick. "Maybe I do see what he's drawn to. You're a firecracker, you are. You just keep going. Well then. Time for another round."
He jerked Logan from the bed and wrestled him onto his feet. Once the boy was up, John locked his arm around Logan's throat and very nearly cut off all air. Feeling the struggling body against him just got him hard again and he wondered just how much damage he really could do to the boy without killing him. Death seemed to be all he wanted, and John simply couldn't give in to that. It was only fun killing people who wanted to live.
Logan struggled hard, gasping for air when it started getting hard to breathe. He kicked and elbowed the other man, panting and crying out as he swore. He wouldn't get away, he knew that, but he'd always struggle, he'd fight until the other man finally snuffed him out. He couldn't help it, it was just part of who he was. He was a fighter, he always had been and he always would be.
It was what Jack had always loved about him.
John released his hold long enough for Logan to catch a breath or three and then was manhandling him to a table. He hip-checked him onto it, satisfied by the terrible tud of the boy's heavy body hitting the wood. He hadn't yet used the rack...not on anyone. It was, of course, a struggle to catch each arm and leg in turn and secure it in the shackles at the corners, but he finally managed. The sight of the boy, naked and stretched out...gorgeous. Yes- Jack had an eye for the pretty ones.
"All right, all right," he finally said. "Calm down. There's nothing in you that a little dislocation won't fix." And then he spun the wheel and the ropes began to tighten, pulling Logan in both directions at once.
It was like something out of a film. A bad film. People didn't do this sort of thing in real life. Except they did, Logan had just never seen himself living a life where he'd find himself in this sort of situation.
His body was pulled taut, and he gasped, even as he built his wall back up and hid behind it, his face blank and bland. He wasn't going to break again, he wasn't going to fall apart. He wouldn't, no matter how badly it hurt.
The Agent grinned down at the boy, his teeth peeking out behind the split of his lips. The creak of the rope, the groan of the wood, and the song of flesh was something he loved...if he loved anything at all. He did, but it was in a special, fucked up way. He loved Jack, he knew that. Soon, he would leave this broken husk of a boy in this room to starve, used up and forgotten. He'd go back to London, find Jack, and try again. Until then, well, John kept spinning the wheel and waited for the sickening crunch of bones coming free of their sockets.
Logan screamed for the first time since John had taken him, the sound echoing off the walls as he felt as if he was being ripped apart. Though really, in a way, that was exactly what was happening.
It hurt like nothing had hurt before, and he lay still, as if he was afraid to move even an inch. ...Truthfully, he wasn't sure he could move, not without causing himself more pain, and he let out a short cry before screaming again. It was killing him, but he didn't beg, staying as composed as he could as the other man looked down at him.
"Thing of beauty," John mused, dragging his hand down Logan's chest and belly. "You know, they used to do this with horses. Tie a limb to each horse and then spur them off to the four corners. Now that made for some good entertainment. You come in a close second, though. Love the tune, but you're a little pitchy."
He laughed at his own joke and abandoned the wheel so he could use both hands to poke and prod Logan's shoulders and knees. The wheel had done its work well, and as soon as he was satisfied, he returned his attention to Logan's cock. Stroking the flaccid flesh, John coaxed a little life into it, then a little more. Once Logan was stiff enough, he bent over the tortured form and took him into his mouth. There were few people who could give head as good as Jack Harkness. John...John was one of them.
Logan choked on a cry, letting out a sob and breathing heavy. the pleasure and the pain mingled and his body betrayed him yet again asshis cock throbbed against John's tongue. He hated himself in that moment, more than he'd ever hated himself before in his life. His cheeks burned red, and in his mind he was apologizing to Jack, begging for his forgiveness.
John moved smoothly, practiced as he was. It didn't take long and the sounds Logan was making were divine. He let go briefly and let his hand take over as he looked up the length of the boy's torso at his anguished face.
"Cry sexier," he smirked, then returned his mouth to its business.
Logan sobbed louder, not for John, but because he couldn't stop himself. Pain shot through him, but the pleasure kept building. It built and it built- and when he came, it was like agony. It shot through him, and he shook, sobbing even louder and then going still as he passed out.
He pulled away and spit the wad on Logan's stomach before untying the lifeless form. He wasn't going to carry the boy and there was no way he could move on his own anymore, so the Agent went to the ray again to repair the newest damage. It was a game he hadn't tired of entirely, but he was growing weary. Logan was about as broken as he was going to get. The ray worked quickly and then John waited. When Logan woke up, it was time to end it. He figured that once the boy was dead, he could take that ring he wore...finger and all for an added touch of horror...back to Jack. Yes, that would kill the former Agent's spirit a little. And likely incite a fantastic fight in the process.
Logan lay on his side, his arms wrapped tightly around himself as he let out another sob. The abuse was catching up with him, and he closed his eyes as he tried to block it out. Not that it worked. It never worked.
Shaking, he slowly sat up before getting to his feet, starting towards the bed- this time hopefully to sleep. He needed to sleep. Shivering, he climbed into bed, his arms wrapped himself as he shuddered.
John let the boy lay down and get comfortable. He took the time to go to a table and select a knife. It wasn't an easy task- The boy would struggle and fight. He needed something sharp that would do the trick, but not so big it was unwieldy. He needed a good grip so he could make it quick and get it over with. He finally found the blade he wanted, then strolled to the bed where Logan lay.
"Time," was all he said, then he grabbed Logan's chin to force his head back and pressed the blade to his throat.
Logan didn't struggle, if anything, he was grateful. His life had ended the moment he'd lost Jack, there was nothing left to live for, and every moment here with John had only brought pain and agony. Closing his damp eyes, he offered the other man his throat, silently begging him to do it.
That didn't stop him from shaking though. Willing or not, he was still scared, and his nose ran as he closed his eyes tighter and let out a shuddering breath.
The blade was right against his neck- and then gone. A warm hand held his shoulder, and Jack's voice was loud and clear. For a moment, he wondered if he was in heaven- But no, Logan didn't believe in that sort of thing, and as he rolled over it became clear that the island had dragged them home just in time.
Jack was alive, and everything was going to be okay.
John was written by Shan in this thread. :)
