#ivan peters oc
behavior modification, part eight
taglist:@darkthingshappen,@oddsconvert,@aut0psy-s,@reflected-pain,@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump,@mylifeisonthebookshelf (let me know if you’d like to be added!)
content warnings for: CSA mention (very veiled, but still), adult language, creepy/intimate whumper, cages, restraints, muzzles, discussions of past abuse, and implied future noncon
This isn’t the whumpiest chapter (although there’s a good bit at the end), but all you Jack + Joe 4EVA people will like it.
part eight,past, present, & future
“Jackie?”
Jack doesn’t answer. He feels like someone’s taken a spoon and scooped out his guts. He’s empty. Hollow. Because he’s dumped it all on Joe.
He shouldn’t have said anything. It was a bad idea. Joe won’t understand. How could he? Jack squeezes his eyes shut. What Bill did to him–what Jack let other people do after–
He doesn’t want to see the way that Joe looks at him now that he knows.
Joe takes a shaky breath. “Thank you for telling me. For trusting me with that, I mean.”
Jesus Christ. Joe isn’t supposed to thank him. Not for this.
Oh damn! Poor sweet Jack and poor sweet Joe. This is so awful. Ivan knew exactly how to pick him, didn’t he. It so cruel to undo all the gains he’s made. I just want to wrap him in blankets and run away with him… back to Joe of course. GUH! My heart breaks for him.
behavior modification, part eleven
content warnings: EXPLICIT NONCON (touch & forced orgasm), adult language, creepy/intimate whumper, forced nudity, muzzles, restraints, stress positions, shock collars, dehumanization, humiliation, emotional manipulation, noncon kissing, implied future noncon
Thanks to @darkthingshappen for letting me run a few things by her!
part eleven, jack’s consequences
“Now, you’ll stay this way until I’m sure you’ve learned your lesson.”
THE ABSOLUTE AUDACITY TO DO THAT WHILST ON THE PHONE TO THE POLICE?! OH MY BLOOD IS B O I L I N G, I AM RILED
behavior modification, part eleven
content warnings: EXPLICIT NONCON (touch & forced orgasm), adult language, creepy/intimate whumper, forced nudity, muzzles, restraints, stress positions, shock collars, dehumanization, humiliation, emotional manipulation, noncon kissing, implied future noncon
Thanks to @darkthingshappen for letting me run a few things by her!
part eleven, jack’s consequences
“Now, you’ll stay this way until I’m sure you’ve learned your lesson.”
Fuck. Jack tries to shake his head, but the distended heft makes his neck feel like it’s going to snap. He can’t staythis way. He can’t. Jack may not be a doctor, but he’s damn sure that people aren’t supposed to be left upside-down. Ivan has to know that. Doesn’t he? He tries to look at Ivan, but he can’t get his eyes to focus. Too many shocks.
Ivan’s phone rings.
Please!Jack shrieks. The word rockets up his throat, but it doesn’t make it any further, because there’s a fucking metal plate trapping his tongue. The only sound that comes out is an animal’s groan. But they have to hear him! They have to!
Jack tries again to raise his head, but he can’t. It weighs a fucking ton, and with his arms wrenched back the way they are, he has no way to brace himself–his entire body shakes with the effort. Of course, Ivan designed it that way.
The thought traps Jack’s breath.
He tugs at his cuffs, but the movement burns all the way down to his calves. Jesus. He’s trussed like game, for Ivan’s pleasure. He’s mute, for Ivan’s pleasure. He’s burnt and sick and so fucking tired, for Ivan’s pleasure. And he can’t even scream.
He tries to wrench his mouth open, but the bit stays in place, and the leather of his muzzle glues itself to his sweaty skin. For the millionth time in the last forty-eight hours, his eyes sting with tears–only this time, they run upinstead of down.
The phone rings again, and Ivan glares down at him.
“Don’t. Make. A. Sound. Or I’ll push this button until you have more in common with a potato than a man.”
The thing is, Jack knows he will. He’s already seen the way Ivan’s eyes light up in the split second before the collar throws him to the floor.
But what Jack didn’t realize is that he already thinks it might be a relief. To disappear. To not feeleverything that’s happening to him–or everything that will happen to him.
Jack doesn’t know if he can take it. Not again. And he doesn’t know if it’s better to be good or bad.
He swallows his whimper and lets his body go slack. The blood rushes to his head, but this time, he doesn’t fight it.
Ivan nods at him and taps his screen. “Dr. Ivan Peters?”
For a moment, the only thing Jack hears is the roar of the blood in his ears–and then Ivan’s breath hitches.
“Oh, uh, hello, Sergeant.”
Sergeant.
It’s the police. The police are looking for him. Joeis looking for him and–
“Would you mind holding for just a moment, Sergeant Wade? I’m in the middle of some work, and I’d like to keep my hands free.”
The police sergeant must assent, because Ivan lays his phone down on the floor next to Jack’s chair. He kneels down and cups the back of Jack’s head in his hand, raising it so that Jack can’t help but look into Ivan’s steely blue eyes.
“Are you there, Sergeant?”
Jack knows Ivan’s speaking to the person on the phone, but his gaze is for Jack alone. Don’t make a sound, Ivan mouths again.
“Yes, doctor.” It’s a woman. The sergeant is a woman. Her voice is kind, Jack thinks. She’ll help him. He knows it. “Sorry to interrupt your morning,” she says. “I’m calling in regards to a missing persons report on a Mr. Jack Kenyon.”
Jack’s tears cut a salty path into his hair, but he manages to keep himself still. He squeezes his eyes shut. Joe knows–he knowsJack wouldn’t run off. Joe knows Jack. Joe loves him. Maybe–
“Jack Kenyon?”
Ivan says it like Jack isn’t on display right in front of him.
“Yes, sir. Dr. Prescott–Mr. Kenyon’s partner–indicated that you may be someone with whom Mr. Kenyon might have had recent contact?”
“Did he?”
Ivan kneels down next to Jack’s contorted body, and he drops his mouth to the swell of Jack’s ribs. Jack feels the hard pinch of Ivan’s teeth, then the brutal seal of his lips. Another mark.
Please,Jack thinks. Please don’t. But Ivan doesn’t want to hear him beg now.
Teeth still pulling at Jack’s skin, Ivan seizes Jack’s hair with one hand, and he tugs Jack’s head backward until his shoulders fold like cardboard. He slides his other hand between Jack’s legs.
It’s then that Jack realizes what’s going to happen.
No, no, no–
Ivan slides his tongue into Jack’s navel, scraping his teeth against his belly as he backs out. Jack nearly cracks his back teeth trying to keep still. He feels a whimper rising in his chest, and he wills it to stay put.
Ivan takes Jack’s cock in his hand, running a gentle thumb over what is still soft. But Jack feels heat start to pool in his gut.
“Yes,” the sergeant is saying. “He said that you recently hired Mr. Kenyon to be your research assistant?”
Ivan raises his eyebrows, and wraps Jack in his fist. He squeezes Jack’s cock and slides his warm palm down the shaft.
“I did. I–oh, God. Is Joe okay?”
Jack’s chest feels like it’s going to explode. He can’t hear Joe’s name. Not like this. Not right now. But he feels himself responding. He’s stiff now, and his cock stands up at the center of his arched body.
Ivan smiles, and he begins to move in earnest. Jack’s breath slams from his nostrils. Ivan releases his hair and uses his free hand to pinch Jack’s nipples, one after the other.
The sergeant sighs on the other end of the phone. “He’s understandably very distressed. Dr. Peters, when was the last time you spoke to Mr. Kenyon?”
“Oh, goodness.” Ivan pretends to think, but his hand doesn’t stop; Jack feels his ass cheeks clench against the edge of the chair’s metal seat, and his legs start to cramp. “Maybe a week ago? I’m sorry. I’ve been out of town–I was at the APA conference in New Orleans, and I–”
“With Dr. Prescott?”
“I saw Joe there, yes.”
Ivan’s rhythm builds, and Jack presses himself as hard as he can into the chair, but it’s no use; his hips start to rise, to meet Ivan’s touch. The room blurs through Jack’s tears.
I’m sorry, Joe. I’m so sorry.
“So, you haven’t heard from Mr. Kenyon in the last three days?”
Ivan is quiet, long enough that the police sergeant must think he’s searching his memory. But Ivan is quiet because his mouth is on Jack’s chest, lapping at his nipples, scraping between his pecs, carving a warm path down Jack’s body with the tip of his tongue. His hand doesn’t let up.
“No,” Ivan finally says. Jack can’t see his face–he can’t raise his head, he can’t, he can’t–but he hears the husk in Ivan’s voice. “I’m so sorry.”
He thumbs over Jack’s slit, and the motion is smooth and wet.
Jack used to know how to do this. He used to know how to pretend it wasn’t happening to him. But he doesn’t anymore. Every nerve in his body burns white hot, and he feels like he’s choking on backlogged sobs.
He ruts into Ivan’s hand, and his chains rattle.
Ivan’s stills. He squeezes Jack so hard that Jack is sure he’s going to crush him. But the detective doesn’t notice.
“That’s alright, sir,” she says. “We’re just gathering information. Was there anything about your interaction with Mr. Kenyon that gave you any cause for concern?”
Ivan’s grip relaxes, and he begins to move again. New tears seep from Jack’s eyes, hot and fast. He can’t tell if he’s relieved.
“No, of course not. He’s a very bright young man. Highly motivated. He was very interested in working with me.” He twists his wrist, and Jack stifles a moan. “I think he thought it would be a great opportunity.”
“I see. Did, ah, did Mr. Kenyon say anything to you about his relationship with Dr. Prescott? I understand you’re former medical school colleagues. Was there anything that might have suggested to you that Mr. Kenyon was unhappy?”
No, Jack thinks, even as Ivan’s touch pulls him closer to the edge. No, I was never unhappy with Joe. Never, never, never–
Ivan picks up speed. “Oh, I don’t know about that–”
“Sir, any information would be helpful.”
“The last time I saw him, he did seem frightened.”
Ivan noses into the thatch of hair beneath Jack’s navel, letting his breath settle, hot and wet.
Oh, God. Oh, fuck. Please–
“Of what?”
Ivan sighs and presses a soft kiss to Jack’s pubic bone. Jack prays for his blood to pool in his head, for darkness to swallow him whole.
“Oh, I wouldn’t presume to know that,” Ivan says. “Just that he was a bit skittish.” He pinches Jack’s skin between his teeth and sucks down. His hand does not stop moving.
It’s too close. He’stoo close. Jack can’t. He can’t, he can’t, he can’t–
“I see. And he didn’t say anything about Dr. Prescott?”
Ivan pulls away, and he rubs at the fresh bruise with his thumb. “No. But it isn’t necessarily about him. It’s my understanding that Jack’s had a complicated life. You may want to ask Joe a bit more about that.”
Joe. I love you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry–
“Thank you, Doctor. I will,” says the detective.
And if Jack could think, he might think that she sounds less than convinced. But he can’t think. He can only feel. And he hates it. He hates himself.
Papers shuffle on the detective’s side of the phone. “Is there anything else you might–”
“I’m sorry, sergeant,” Ivan says abruptly. He rolls his wrist and slides down Jack’s length. “That’s about the only insight I can provide. But I’ll certainly let you know if I hear from him.”
“Please do.”
“I hope you find him soon. Joe must be losing his mind.”
Ivan smiles at Jack, and his hand beats against him, hard and fast.
“Thank you,” says the sergeant.
Jack arches against the chains, his muscles so hard that he’s sure he’s going to break in two. But he can’t let himself down. He can’t make a sound.
“Good luck, sergeant. Give my best to Joe,” Ivan says.
Distantly, Jack hears the hollow beep of the call’s end. He lets himself crash against the chair, and a broken sob rips at his throat. Still, his hips buck up, and the chains rattle in earnest now.
“He’s looking for you, sweet boy,” Ivan murmurs. “Your Joe is looking for you.”
And then, wet heat surrounds Jack’s cock, and he screams–or at least, he tries to. This can’t he happening. He doesn’t want this. He doesn’t. And yet–
Ivan pops off of him with a wet smack, and his hand is back, running over Jack’s slick length and drawing him closer and closer to the edge.
“I’ll let him find you, you know?”
Jack’s chest is so tight that he’s not sure he’s even breathing. His head is full and dizzy, and he thinks he might be breaking apart. All he wants is Joe, but he doesn’t want Joe to find him. His body is a knot of paradox.
Ivan strokes him harder. Jack is close, and this time, he knows that Ivan won’t spare him.
“I’ll let him find you when you’re a good little toy. I’ll let him see you like you are now.”
Jack’s throat aches so deeply that he thinks he might choke. His forehead burns under the salt of his tears, and he can feel slick sweat coating every inch of his skin.
Joe–Joe can’t–he can’t–Jack doesn’t–no, no, NO–oh,God–
“And I’ll let him see this, too,” Ivan whispers.
And then, Jack falls. His vision burns white, and his body seizes against his chains as he spills over Ivan’s hand.
“Yes, sweet boy. That’s it.”
Jack waits for Ivan to punish him, for his touch to keep on, but he doesn’t. Instead, Ivan’s hand slips into the mess Jack’s made of himself and spreads it over Jack’s belly and up to his chest.
“Goodness, you must have been holding onto that for a while,” Ivan chuckles.
I didn’t want to, Jack tells himself. I’ll never want to. I didn’t–oh, Joe. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
Ivan stands, and distantly, Jack is aware that he’s gone to the sink to wash his hands.
Jack wants to wash. He wants to scrub at every inch of himself until he’s raw; he wants to grow new skin.
He wants to go home.
He sobs, and Ivan stands over him again, cell phone in hand. Jack hears the artificial snap of the phone’s camera.
“Perhaps we’ll send this to him sometime, huh?”
Ivan leans down and presses a kiss to Jack’s soaked forehead. Jack wonders if he can taste the salt. Ivan angles the camera again, and he yanks Jack’s head up by his hair.
“Smile, darling. If we do send these, I want Joe to know just how happy we are together.”
Jack does not smile. Not that anyone would be able to tell. But when Ivan shows him the photos, Jack feels the tiniest spark of satisfaction that there is still blood on Ivan’s lips.
“Now,” Ivan says, stuffing his phone in his back pocket. “I have some case notes to update, and you have some thinking to do.”
Jack doesn’t even have the energy to shake his head.
“You were very naughty today, Jackie,” Ivan says seriously. “And I told you–there are consequences for your actions. I hope you know that now. You’re mine, sweet boy. The sooner you learn that, the easier it will be.”
Ivan ruffles Jack’s hair and then pulls his hand away in distaste.
“You’re filthy. As you should be. A filthy little whore, aren’t you?”
He is. He’s always been. But Joe’s voice breaks through the rush in Jack’s ears.
You are more than what’s happened to you.
“You can sit in that filth until I come back for you. Think about what you’ve learned, Jackie.”
Ivan leaves him then. And even though he’s humiliated, Jack is blessedly alone. His limbs are starting to come down from his ordeal, and as they settle back into the stress position, they burn, and then, go numb. It’s a kind of relief.
I am more than what’s happened to me, Jack reminds himself. He even tries to believe it. He’ll try as long as he can. He hopes it’ll be enough.
taglist:@darkthingshappen,@oddsconvert,@aut0psy-s,@mylifeisonthebookshelf,@reflected-pain,@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump,@the-non-binary-cowboy,@no-terms-and-conditions-apply (let me know if you’d like to be added, and please let me know if I’ve missed you!)
