#nonconsensual touch cw
Just a light Jaime-in-training drabble for your evening. From Do No Harm. Not in the full chapter swing yet, but we’ll work our way up with this little thought child.
Warnings for Handler Smith, non-sexual (but not great) touch, and food deprivation as a form of control.
“It feels good to eat, doesn’t it?” A heavy hand lands at the nape of his neck, fingers stroking lazily through his curls.
It’s been so long since he’s had food. Jaime tries to focus on the taste of the bread between his bound hands, anchoring himself with the pure relief of his first sustenance in days instead of the chills that erupt down his shoulders and his spine under the touch.
He is so afraid of him; this man in full-body canvas that makes him call him “sir” and “Handler Smith” and controls every aspect of his life. He’s the only person Jaime has seen in… weeks, was it? In all his time here, Handler Smith has been the only one to breach the door of his concrete hell, breaking up the long stretches of isolation with lingering touches and terror and pain. Jaime has never been in so much pain.
“Hey.” His voice is a warning, sudden and clear, cracking through Jaime’s daze. He jumps, nearly dropping the half-bagel in his haste to respond.
“Y-yes sir,” he mumbles through a mouthful.
“Yeah. It’s been a little while, hasn’t it? I bet you were hurting,” Smith says. He nods because he knows it’s what he wants from him, and doesn’t have to look up to see the answering smile. “What do you say when someone does something nice for you?”
He swallows a lump that he hasn’t quite finished chewing, the flavor going bland and ashy in his mouth. There’s no use resisting. No use clinging to his pride or his anger when he isn’t sure his body can withstand another punishment right now. “Thank you, sir,” he concedes.
The fingers resume their gentle strokes in his hair, and Jaime tells himself it’s worth it to endure for now. He tells himself he can think about fighting back later, after he has some food in his body. It’s just… he’s right. It does feel good. It feels so good to have something in his empty stomach. Even after just a couple of bites, he can feel a wisp of strength spreading out into his body that wasn’t there before.
It’s just survival. It doesn’t matter that he’s complying, just for a minute, to earn himself this reward. It doesn’t matter that the touch at the back of his neck feels something like approval, which, in turn, feels just a little bit like relief.
He can fight back later.
He will.
BTHB (@badthingshappenbingo ) Fill: Blindfold | requested by: @jo-castle
[content warnings: drugging, referenced drug abuse, manhandling, and mild suggestive bargaining in a dubcon situation]
(
edit, because I forgot to thank the people who suggested I use Cass for this fill!thanks to @ashintheairlikesnow,@givemethatwhump,@comfy-whumpee , and@gonna-feel-that-tomorrow for the extra inspo )-
“I’m not putting that thing on”
Tucker smiles like he’d expected Cass to say as much, then holds the blindfold out even further, expecting him to put it on all the same.
“Let’s not do this today, hmm? They’ll be here in ten minutes”
“And you think BDSM chic is a look they’ll be into when they arrive?”
“They requested client confidentiality”
“Client confi… I’m the one doing the fucking job”
“No you’re not. I’m doing the job,” Tucker says, impassive “I’m the one they hired, and I’m the one they’ll pay. You’re just the tool I choose to implement to get the job done”
Cass seethes, silent and still against the wall. His eyes trace the cornices of the ceiling until he finds a crack in the plaster, stretching like a lightening bolt to the horrendous brown light cover.
They were in some crappy motel in the middle of nowhere. Not exactly a pay by the hour joint but definitely a nobody will ask you what’s in the suspicious duffel bag sort of place. The sort of place you can give any old name and the clerk won’t bother checking for ID as long as you pay in advance. The sort of place Cass probably would’ve stayed if he didn’t have the Facility to bed down in.
Perfect for fucking client confidentiality.
