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The first thing that Ryan noticed was that he wasn't as cold as he should be.
He blinked himself back to consciousness slowly, observing his surroundings for a few seconds before anything actually sank in.
So, apparently he was no longer in the admittedly sketchy alleyway he'd gone down in his hurry to get home, and away from the freezing night air. He shook his head, trying to clear away the blurry edges of his vision so that he could take a proper look at where he was.
He immediately wished he could lapse back into ignorance.
The room was relatively large, with a concrete floor, ceiling, and walls, no windows to speak of and a single door with numerous locks on it off to his right. He figured he was underground, probably in a basement.
These assessments were made somewhere in the back of his mind, most of his attention glued to the tools hanging from the walls in orderly rows. The majority were knives of varying widths and lengths, interspersed with a few saws and pliers and portable vices. Most of them were spotless, gleaming softly under the light cast by the four bulbs fixed into the ceiling, but a few were flecked with red spots that were just that little bit too dark for Ryan to be able to pretend that they were rust. He very calmly told himself that he didn't want to be in this room anymore, and that he should go to the door and pray that the multiple locks on it were, in fact, open.
It was then that he realised he'd been tied to a chair.
"Fuck," he muttered, breath picking up as he tugged ineffectually at the ropes around his wrists and ankles. "Fuck. Fuck, fuck!" He yanked ferociously at the knots, but there was no give. The chair scooted several centimetres to the left from the forcible movement and he paused, mind racing. So, he couldn't get out of the chair yet, but maybe he could take the chair with him... If he could balance himself properly, he'd probably be able to get to his feet, make his way over to one of the walls, and grab a knife to cut himself free. Not only that, he'd be armed against whoever it was that put him in the room in the first place.
His brow furrowed as he tried to remember anything about how he'd even gotten here. He remembered giving up on finding a cab to take him home, which was why he'd been walking to begin with. Then, he remembered that the jacket he'd been wearing wasn't doing a fantastic job at keeping the cold out - a jacket that he realised was now gone - which was why he'd taken the shortcut down the alley in the first place, despite how poorly lit it was. He'd figured that with his height and broad shoulders, he wasn't exactly a prime target for criminal attack. Looks like he'd screwed up on that count.
He remembered entering the alley, and knew he made it at least halfway, but it was fuzzy for some reason. He tried to concentrate, but it slipped even further from his recollection. He guessed with a strange sense of detachment that someone had probably drugged him, then brought him here. He shook his head.
Here. Knife. Freedom.
He tipped himself forward, balancing precariously on his toes before starting a slow, awkward crab shuffle to the closest wall. He resolutely ignored the fact that he probably looked ridiculous, focusing single-mindedly on getting to the wall, to getting one step closer to being free.
The sound of the door opening shattered his bubble of concentration. Distracted and surprised, he jumped a little, and the motion was enough to throw him off-balance. With crushing inevitability, he felt himself tilt too far to one side. He hit the floor with a crash, shoulder slamming painfully into the ground as his fingers were flattened between the chair and the concrete. His head bounced, narrowly avoiding contact with the floor. Fear raced through him, cold and paralysing, as he tried to crane his neck to see who had just entered the room, but he couldn't see them past his own knees.
"Hope you realise that it won't be that easy to get away," a young male voice drawled, growing closer with each deliberate footstep. Ryan struggled desperately against his restraints, body arching away from the seat then clumsily falling back again as his captor pulled the chair back into an upright position.
Ryan saw pale cheeks dotted with freckles, a mop of curly auburn hair and thin black glasses framing chocolate brown eyes. It wasn't at all what he was expecting, and for some reason that made his captor's youthful appearance all the more terrifying.
"Good to see you're awake. I've been bored out of my brain waiting for something to do around here."
Ryan tugged at the knots once more, just to check they hadn't been loosened when the chair fell, then finally accepted they were too tight to get out of. "Who are you?" he demanded, trying to put on a brave face.
"You're right, I've been kinda rude, haven't I? I'm Michael. I torture and kill people for fun, and you're lucky victim number 18." He grinned and stuck out his hand, despite the fact that Ryan's arms were tied quite firmly to the chair. "No handshake, huh? Shit, did I leave bloodstains on my hands again?" He made a show of inspecting his fingers and palms, even though they were obviously clean. "Oh, so you're just an asshole, then. That's okay, I won't hold that against you." He smiled serenely at Ryan's terrified and confused expression.
Oh, fuck. He's completely insane.
Ryan swallowed thickly, struggling to keep his voice steady as his heart rate and breathing increased. "You don't have to do this. You can just let me go, I promise I won't go to the police, I won't tell anyone what happened. Please let me go."
Michael chuckled, shaking his head. "I like you. You're funny. You realise that if and when I kill you, I can be absolutely sure that you won't be going to the cops, right? I mean, we've just met. I've got no idea if I can trust you not to run off to the authorities the second you leave."
"I won't tell anyone," Ryan repeated beseechingly.
Michael patted Ryan comfortingly on the knee. "Even if I could trust you, it'd be too much of a hassle," he said gently. "You know how much effort goes into kidnapping someone? Gotta make sure your target's not someone who'll be hugely missed, that they spend a decent amount of their time alone, then watching them for days to find the best time to grab 'em - can't have any witnesses, after all. The list just goes on and on. Took almost two weeks before it was actually safe to take you, and that's kind of a long time to go without a good fix of violence, for me. If I let you go, who knows how long it'd be before I can grab someone else? I'd probably end up jumping the gun and getting caught. So, you understand why I can't just let you go, don't you...?" He trailed off, smiling sheepishly. "Sorry, still being rude - I haven't even asked you your name." He looked at Ryan expectantly, but no answer was forthcoming. His eyes hardened suddenly and he swung at Ryan's face with a backhand that left the older man's head ringing. "Your name."
The harsh sting of the blow burned in Ryan's cheek, little tingling pinpricks of pain that made his skin feel hot. A flicker of arousal ignited low in Ryan's abdomen.
He tensed suddenly, terror flooding through him.
No. Please. Please not here. Anywhere but here.
"I'm waiting," Michael said sardonically, then slapped Ryan again. The older man felt his cock twitch in response.
"Ryan, my name's Ryan," he blurted, looking anywhere but at Michael.
The psychopath smiled winningly. "There, that wasn't so hard, was it, Ryan? Now, you and I can have ourselves some fun."
Ryan shook his head. "Please don't do this." Michael ignored him, crossing the room to select a small knife from the wall.
"I'll start off small, ease you into things." He tossed the words over his shoulder as he pondered his choices. "It'd be kinda harsh to just pull out your teeth or clamp your fingers in a vice straight off the bat, right?"
Ryan said nothing. Part of him even hoped that Michael would escalate things quickly - that level of pain wouldn't be even close to pleasurable, and Ryan would be able to die with at least that part of his dignity intact.
Tears burned the corners of his eyes as he realised that he'd already accepted that he wouldn't be leaving the room alive.
Michael returned, lazily twirling a knife as he approached. Ryan's eyes were glued to the glinting blade, and gasped involuntarily as it suddenly flashed close, barely missing him. Michael laughed. "Aren't you just the perfect little victim?" he murmured appreciatively as Ryan shrank back against the chair. Ryan refrained from pointing out that he was actually bigger than Michael. He didn't really think that sort of contribution would be appreciated.
Michael used the tip of the knife to lift Ryan's chin, forcing the older man to meet his gaze. "Let's see if we can get you to scream for me, huh Ryan?"
The blade flicked down, slicing shallowly over one of Ryan's pecs and making him grunt. Michael set about decorating Ryan's shirt in red. Some cuts were calculated, slow drags of the edge of the knife against Ryan's collarbones or ribs, easily slicing through the thin fabric covering them. Others were more designed to catch Ryan off-guard with their suddenness, small slashes that would make him cry out as pain flared anew, burning hot under his skin. Michael also added a few nicks to Ryan's arms, deliberately pressing his left thumb into them as he steadied himself against the older man's shoulder.
Ryan bit back a moan, knowing how screwed he was. No matter how much he tried to force it down, Michael's abuse of his body was making him harder by the minute. Any second now, his captor would notice, and then he'd really be in trouble.
"Oh. That's certainly a new one."
And there it is, Ryan thought defeatedly, his head dropping. Of course it would be a fucking serial killer that figured out his dirty little secret.
"Fuck me, I've got myself a masochist, haven't I?"
Ryan refused to meet his eyes, so Michael roughly grabbed his chin and forced him to make eye contact.
"I think we can make this work out well for both of us."
Fear sparked in Ryan's eyes and he jerked his head away. Michael chuckled softly.
"Oh, come on. Can't you see how perfect this is? I'm a sadist, you're a masochist." He put the knife aside and grinned, resting his hands on Ryan's thighs. "It's a match made in hell."
"I don't want this," Ryan whispered brokenly, too dejected and ashamed to bother trying to dislodge the hand slowly creeping up his thigh.
"Just saying that means you do, you know that, right?"
Ryan said nothing, desperately trying to think about anything other than his aching cock. Which was kind of hard to do when Michael had started palming at it rather insistently, grinning Cheshire-wide at Ryan's every tremble and suppressed moan.
With his free hand, Michael picked up the knife again, once more using it to lift Ryan's head up so that he could see the older man's face as he struggled to keep his composure.
"Starting without me, Michael?" an accented voice called from across the room. Both men turned their heads to look at the rail-thin man leaning against the door jamb.
"Hey, Gavin!" Michael greeted cheerfully, hand still on Ryan's crotch and apparently oblivious now to the man's shaking and panting. "Sorry, man, you were taking forever. I got bored."
Gavin looked pointedly at Michael's hands, and the man quietly falling apart under their ministrations. "I see that."
Michael heard the implied question. "Well, I did start out the normal way," moving so that Gavin could see the nicks and slashes that had stained Ryan's shirt with blood, "But turns out Ryan here was getting off on it."
"Oh, that's interesting," Gavin all but purred as he pushed himself away from the doorframe, movements suddenly loose and predatory.
"That's what I thought," Michael continued conversationally, absently adding another thin cut to Ryan's chest and smirking at the small whimper that was produced in response. "He's taking a little bit of convincing, but I think he's coming around."
"Please... Please don't," Ryan whispered, head tipping back and eyes screwing shut as Michael carved a small heart over his left pectoral, the cut-out of shirt fabric peeling away to fall into Ryan's lap. Gavin shushed Ryan gently, moving behind him to trail slender fingers appreciatively through the captive man's honey-coloured hair.
"You always find the nicest-looking ones, Michael." He smoothed Ryan's hair, stroking him on the cheek. "Such a pretty little masochist, aren't you? Our lovely little Ryan."
"I don't belong to you," Ryan managed to gasp out. Gavin's fingers threaded through Ryan's hair again and tugged sharply, making the older man groan.
"I think our new toy's wearing too many clothes, Michael," Gavin said firmly.
The curly-haired man nodded. "Way ahead of you."
The knife flickered, slicing through the front of Ryan's shirt and scoring a shallow line on the skin covering his sternum. Ryan sucked in a breath, head lolling against Gavin's ribcage as Michael sawed through the top of Ryan's shirtsleeves, stripping away the torn and stained piece of fabric. Michael put the knife to the side again and worked at undoing their captive's jeans. Ryan jerked at the touch, back arching and muscles stretching around the small cuts adorning his chest. Then he was sitting in just a pair of navy blue boxer briefs that made his arousal all the more painfully obvious, his jeans pooling around his bound ankles.
"Doesn't he look delicious?" Gavin murmured, returning to carding his fingers through Ryan's hair. Michael dropped the knife on top of Ryan's ruined shirt and straddled Ryan's lap, passing his tongue over one of the cuts on the older man's collarbone. Ryan felt himself twitch against Michael at the small twinge of pain brought on by the pressure of Michael's tongue, as well as the sting of his saliva, against the lacerated skin.
"Oh, he is," Michael grinned, running his tongue over his lips before snagging Ryan in a rough kiss. Ryan squeezed his eyes shut, a tear trickling from each of their corners as his body responded almost of its own volition. He moaned as Michael's teeth tugged sharply at his lower lip, and Michael delved into his open mouth, taking everything that Ryan had to give. Another moan escaped him as Michael rocked his hips against the older man, the persistent bulge at the front of his pants letting Ryan know his captor wasn't unaffected by what was going on. There was a part of Ryan's mind determinedly screaming at him that he didn't want this, but in all honesty it was just making him want it even more.
Gavin's hand slowly trailed down from Ryan's hair to rest against the front of the older man's neck, stroking his Adam's apple. Then suddenly, Gavin's hand was wrapped around his throat, squeezing lightly, and fuck if it was at an awkward angle, it was turning Ryan on even more. It was getting to the point where Ryan was a little worried that his neurons wouldn't be able to recover from the sheer amount of endorphins flooding them. He wasn't entirely sure when he stopped worrying about being killed, but Gavin and Michael were doing such a number on him that he didn't even care.
And he wasn't even fully unclothed yet.
That was something that Michael quickly decided just wouldn't do, and he slid out of Ryan's lap so that he could pull the older man's underwear off. Too far gone to do anything but comply with what was happening, Ryan lifted his hips from the chair to make things easier for him.
Too aroused to feel vulnerable, Ryan let his head roll listlessly against Gavin's chest, watching with shallow breaths and lust-blown pupils as Michael pushed Ryan's legs a little further open, taking the head of the older man's cock into his mouth. A deep sigh whispered past Ryan's lips as Michael's tongue swirled around his length, drawing up to dip into the slit before Michael took in as much as he could.
Ryan cursed under his breath as he felt Michael envelope him completely. They swallowed in unison - Ryan's throat convulsing under Gavin's fingers, Michael's throat contracting around Ryan's shaft. Michael gripped bruisingly tight at Ryan's thighs, and started to quickly bob his head, making the man at his mercy tremble and swear.
Ryan's hips started to stutter, close to orgasm, but then Michael pulled off. Ryan whimpered at the loss, back arching away from the chair as he tried to follow Michael. The younger man patted his knee.
"I've gotta go grab a few things, seeing how we didn't really plan for this. Gavin, take care of him for a few minutes?"
"With pleasure," Gavin purred, circling around to face Ryan as Michael left. He placed his hands on Ryan's thighs, and the captive twitched at just that simple touch. With a devilish grin, Gavin crouched between the older man's legs, admiring the weeping head of Ryan's cock. "We've got you all hot and bothered, haven't we?"
Ryan managed to choke out a 'yes', almost at the point of begging Gavin to close the distance and just finish him off already.
The Brit let out a small laugh, breath brushing against the still-wet skin of his erection. Ryan whimpered again, cock twitching. "You'd like me to suck you off, wouldn't you, love? You'd like to come down my throat, have me milk you dry." Ryan nodded desperately, beyond words. Gavin laughed, a little louder this time, as he straightened up, sitting on Ryan's lap while making sure not to touch the older man where he needed it most. "Can't just leave Michael out of all the fun though, can we?" Without waiting for a reply, he caught Ryan's lips with his own, kissing him deeply.
Ryan was about to pull away and protest that screw Michael, Ryan had needs that urgently required attention, when the man in question returned.
"I got the stuff. Why don't you hop off him, Gav?"
Gavin complied, and Michael smirked at the state that Ryan was in. "First things first," he muttered, approaching the bound man.
It took Ryan a few seconds to realise what the small loop in Michael's hand was for, but as soon as he did, he jerked at his ropes and strained away. "No, no, please, don't, no-" His voice steadily rose in pitch until he was almost screaming, but there was nothing he could do to stop Michael from slipping the loop over his shaft and tightening it around the base of his cock. Ryan let out a pitiful sob, hips bucking uselessly as Michael stepped back.
"Get me ready, Gavvy?" Michael asked, drawing the Brit close.
"'Course, my little Michael." Gavin kissed him, fingers sliding under the hem of Michael's shirt. They broke away briefly to let Michael remove the piece of clothing, Gavin quickly tugging it over his head before working at Michael's zipper. Michael shimmied out of his jeans, easily stepping out of the denim - he'd already removed his socks and shoes before coming back down - and let Gavin pull his underwear down to follow, displaying Michael's fully hard erection.
Michael handed the small tube of lube he'd brought with him to Gavin, resting his hands on Ryan's shoulders and taking the older man's lips between his again, humming into Ryan's mouth as Gavin slipped a slicked finger into him.
"You're gonna love this, Ryan," Michael whispered, voice breathy as Gavin added a second digit, stretching Michael's hole. "You're gonna fill me up, you're gonna feel me all hot and tight around you, and you won't be able to come until we've decided you've earned it." Gavin had worked his way up to three fingers, and Michael waved a wrapped condom teasingly in front of Ryan's face before tearing at the packaging, rolling the condom onto Ryan's aching cock. He pulled himself off of Gavin's fingers, positioning himself on Ryan's lap and sinking onto him. Ryan threw his head back and moaned as he bottomed out, pleasure battering at him and demanding to be released. Gavin's fingers caught around his chin as he once more took his place behind Ryan's chair, cradling Ryan's head against his chest and occasionally closing his hands around the bound man's windpipe.
Gavin leaned down to nip at his ear as Michael lifted himself up, only to sink back down onto Ryan almost immediately, palms deliberately digging into the cuts along Ryan's collarbones as he gripped onto the older man's shoulders. "Shame this chair has such a high back," Gavin said, breath hot against the shell of Ryan's ear. "If it didn't, I'd pull you back, and feed you my cock, and fuck your mouth until I was done. And you'd let me, wouldn't you? Such a good little masochist." He sucked a mark high on Ryan's neck, enjoying the way the skin instantly darkened. "Or maybe you'd like me to fill you up another way? Can't really see it in the chair, but it definitely looks like you've got a nice ass. I bet it'd look fantastic around my cock. Would you like that, my lovely little Ryan? Having me fuck you so hard you forget how to think?"
Ryan groaned unintelligibly, the words spoken in that sultry British accent doing things to him that they had no right to. Then his attention was diverted elsewhere as Michael started to grind against him, building up a steady pace as he bounced on Ryan's cock. Ryan couldn't concentrate on anything other than how good it felt to have Michael on top of him, how unfairly fantastic Gavin's hands felt when they tightened around his neck, and how desperately he needed to come. The feeling only continued to escalate as Michael's pace increased, becoming erratic. Ryan nearly sobbed when Michael spurted over Ryan's chest and clenched around him, the painfully pleasurable sensation threatening to drive him as insane as the two men doing this to him. A miniscule part of him immediately started harping on about how unsanitary it had to be to have another man's jizz seeping into the cuts littering his chest, but the overwhelming majority of him was far too fraught with the need for release to give a single fuck.
Michael slowly rose from Ryan's lap, chest heaving and glistening slightly with sweat. "I'd say that's definitely earned you something," he said with a grin, reaching for the release on the cock ring.
"Not yet, Michael," Gavin cut in, and Ryan practically howled with frustration as Michael's hand pulled away, the younger man shrugging and reaching for his discarded clothing instead. The Brit trailed his fingers through Ryan's hair, tucking a few strands behind the bound man's ear before murmuring into it. "After all, it'd be a little selfish if you two got to have all the fun to yourselves, wouldn't it?"
"Please," Ryan rasped, body arching weakly against his restraints.
"Soon," Gavin promised, long fingers working at the knots around Ryan's ankles. Once they had been loosened, he moved onto the ones around Ryan's wrists, drawing the older man to his feet once he was freed. He staggered, jeans and underwear still pooled around his feet, and Gavin dragged Ryan's arms behind his back, slipping the rope around them once more. Tugging the knot to make sure it was secure, Gavin pushed down on Ryan's shoulder. The older man grunted as his bare knees hit the floor, pain bolting briefly up his thighs. Gavin circled around until he was facing Ryan, undoing the fly of his jeans as he went. Without ceremony, and without bothering to take off his shirt at any point, Gavin pulled down his jeans and boxers, grabbing Ryan's chin.
The older man licked his lips and then swallowed convulsively as he was fed Gavin's cock, trying not to choke as the tip bumped against the back of his throat. A little inexperienced, Ryan attempted to mimic what he himself liked in a blowjob, swirling his tongue around the head of Gavin's cock and lapping at the slit. He was rewarded with a contented sigh and fingers threading his hair, pulling lightly.
At first, Gavin moved in and out of his mouth gently, but very rapidly worked his way up to a bruising pace, tightening his grip on Ryan's hair. Ryan struggled to breathe as his mouth was fucked, air dragging harshly through his nose and down to his starving lungs. Hot tears pricked at the corners of his eyes at the rough treatment, and then bitter liquid shot down his throat, making him grimace. Gavin pushed him off with perhaps a little more force than necessary, shoving against Ryan's shoulders and making the older man sprawl awkwardly, bound hands pressing uncomfortably against the small of his back.
Gavin pulled his pants up and tucked himself away before squatting in front of Ryan, pulling off the condom and running his thumb approvingly over the swollen head of Ryan's cock.
Ryan trembled at the touch. "Please," he croaked, barely able to form the word.
With a smirk, Gavin finally relented, loosening the cock ring. Orgasm crashed through Ryan, making his vision fade at the edges and his body arch off the ground, toes curling as he shot his load over his own stomach. His blood pounded in his ears and he was next to no help as Michael hauled him to his feet, his legs about as useful as two legs on a table.
"C'mon, Gavin, help me get him cleaned up," he grunted, straining under Ryan's weight but still managing a grin. "Can't have him this messy for when we're ready for round two."