Chapter 2: The Re-Education
Time passed in a thick haze. Hank hung from the bar, his body a map of dull aches and sharp, lingering fires. The come on his stomach had gone cold and sticky. Kaidan had been busying himself in the small kitchenette, the sounds of a tap running, a cabinet closing.
Then, the squeak of his boots on linoleum returned.
“Can’t have you dislocating something, big guy,” Kaidan said, his voice singsong. “We’re just getting started.”
Hank watched, his head heavy, as Kaidan produced a small, serrated knife from a pocket on his thigh. He didn’t flinch this time. The resignation was a stone in his gut. Kaidan sawed through the rope connecting his wrists to the bar, not the bindings themselves. Hank’s arms fell, leaden and screaming with pins and needles, to his sides. He gasped at the rush of blood returning.
“Down you go,” Kaidan commanded, giving his shoulder a little push.
Hank’s legs, weak and trembling, gave out. He collapsed to his knees on the hard floor, a jarring impact that rattled his teeth. He caught himself on his bound hands, grunting.
“Ah-ah,” Kaidan chirped. He stepped away and returned with a throw pillow from the sagging couch. It was stained and threadbare. He dropped it in front of Hank’s knees. “For your comfort. My considerate hostage.”
Hank stared at the pathetic offering. Every instinct told him to surge up, to use his size, to smash this brittle, pretty thing against the wall. But the instinct was smothered under layers of exhaustion, concussion fog, and that terrifying, deep-seated craving that Kaidan had expertly exposed and exploited. He shifted forward, settling his knees onto the cushion. The mild relief was obscene.
Kaidan circled him, a predator assessing its captured prey. The leash was still clipped to the collar. It trailed behind him like a tail. He stopped behind Hank, out of sight. Hank tensed.
The first smack landed on the meat of his right shoulder blade. It was open-handed, almost playful. The sound was a crisp crack in the quiet room.
“Remember Coney Island?” Kaidan’s voice floated from behind him.
Another smack, on the left shoulder. Not hard. A sting.
“You won me that giant, hideous panda. Tossed a ring like it was nothing.” Smack. On the back of his neck. “You carried it for me all day. My big, strong tough guy.”
Hank closed his eyes. The memory was a physical ache, a bruise on his heart. Sunlight, fried food, Kaidan’s laughter real and unpracticed.
A sharper smack, on his ribcage. Hank grunted.
“That was before I knew,” Kaidan continued, his voice dropping, circling to Hank’s front. He knelt, so they were eye-level. His sky-blue eyes were vast and hungry. “Before I found your little stash. The magazines. The ropes. The videos on your laptop.” He reached out and traced Hank’s lower lip with a latex-clad thumb. “My innocent Hank. Who liked to be hurt.”
“It wasn’t like this,” Hank rasped, his voice ruined.
“No,” Kaidan agreed softly. He leaned in, his breath sweet. “It was better. It was ours.” Then his face hardened. “Until it wasn’t.” He stood up abruptly, walking behind Hank again.
The next smack was harder, on the globe of Hank’s ass. A proper slap that made the flesh jiggle and burn.
“You started coming home late. Smelling of other people’s perfume. Gunpowder. Cheap booze.” Smack. On the other cheek. “You’d look at me with those fucking dead shark eyes and pat my head. ‘Not tonight, Kai. I’m tired.’” Kaidan’s imitation of Hank’s rough voice was a cruel parody.
Hank stayed silent. It was true. The family business had gotten heavier. The things he had to do… he didn’t want to bring that darkness near Kaidan. He thought he was protecting him.
“But then,” Kaidan said, his voice shifting, becoming breathy with remembered excitement. He stopped circling and crouched in front of Hank again. He placed both hands on Hank’s knees, squeezing. “Then you’d have a really bad night. You’d come in, blood under your nails, that look in your eyes… the beast in the cage.” Kaidan’s tongue darted out, wetting his lips. “You’d look at me and you’d say… say it.”
Hank shook his head, a feeble denial.
Kaidan’s hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of Hank’s hair, wrenching his head back. “Say it.”
“I’d say… ‘Make it go away,’” Hank whispered to the flickering ceiling.
“‘Make it go away,’” Kaidan repeated, releasing his hair with a shove. “And I would. I’d take you to bed. Or bend you over this very couch. And I’d fuck you. I’d fuck you until you screamed into the pillow. I’d ride your thick cock until you couldn’t remember your own name.” His words were guttural now, filthy and vivid. “You’d beg me to hurt you. To bite you. To call you my worthless slut. And you’d come harder than you ever had in your life. Remember that?”
A traitorous heat flared in Hank’s gut. His spent cock gave a helpless twitch. He remembered. The oblivion of it. The way Kaidan’s tight, perfect ass would swallow him whole, a searing vise of muscle and heat, milking him until he was empty, until the ghosts of the men he’d hurt that day were banished by a more immediate, more exquisite pain.
“I remember,” Hank breathed.
Kaidan smiled. It was a radiant, terrible thing. He stood and walked to the discarded duffel bag by the door. He rummaged and pulled out a small, familiar bottle. Lubricant.
The sound of the cap snapping open was deafening.
Hank’s breath hitched. He watched Kaidan slick his gloved fingers generously, the latex shining in the weak light.
“You liked my ass,” Kaidan said conversationally, walking back. “But I loved yours.” He stopped behind Hank. “You have no idea how much I dreamed of this. Of having you like this. Totally mine. Completely open.”
Hank felt a cold, slick fingertip press against his hole. He jerked, a shock going through him.
“Shhh,” Kaidan soothed, his other hand coming to rest on Hank’s lower back, holding him down. “Just like old times. Only… I’m in charge now.”
The finger pushed in. It was a slow, relentless invasion. The burn was immediate, a sharp stretch. Hank groaned, dropping his forehead against his bound fists. The pillow under his knees was a sick comfort.
“So tight,” Kaidan murmured, his voice full of dark wonder. “All clenched up. You need to relax, baby. For me.”
He worked the finger in to the knuckle, then began to move it, a slow in-and-out that was more threatening than pleasurable. Then a second finger, slick and cold, joined the first. The stretch intensified, a burning fullness. Hank panted, sweat beading on his back.
“You took my whole fist once,” Kaidan whispered, twisting his fingers scissoring them open. “Remember? You were so high on the pain, so far gone, you begged for it. I thought you’d break.”
Hank did remember. The feeling of being split open, shattered, remade. It had been the closest thing to purity he’d ever felt.
A third finger pressed alongside the others. The stretch crossed the threshold from burn to a deep, aching pressure. Hank cried out, a ragged sound.
“There,” Kaidan cooed, his fingers pistoning deeper now, curling. “There it is.”
He brushed over something inside, a nerve cluster that sent a bolt of pure, undiluted sensation straight to Hank’s cock, which jerked back to full, aching hardness. A broken noise escaped Hank’s throat—part pain, part shock, part devastating need.
Kaidan chuckled, low and knowing. He withdrew his fingers with a wet, obscene sound.
Hank heard the click of a belt, the rustle of latex. He braced himself.
The head of Kaidan’s cock, already hard and slick, pressed against him. It was bigger than three fingers. Much bigger.
“This is mine,” Kaidan stated, his voice losing all its playful lilt, becoming flat, absolute.
He pushed forward.
The invasion was brutal. There was no gentle easing. Kaidan sheathed himself in one long, relentless thrust, burying his cock to the hilt inside Hank in a single, devastating motion.
Hank screamed. The sound tore through the apartment, raw and animal. The pain was a white-hot spear, tearing him open, hollowing him out. He saw sparks behind his eyelids. His body convulsed, trying to reject the violation, but Kaidan’s hand on his back held him firm, impaled.
“Fuck,” Kaidan gasped above him, his own voice strained with effort and pleasure. “Fuck, Hank. Just like I dreamed.”
He didn’t wait for Hank to adjust. He pulled back, almost all the way out, the drag a new agony, then slammed back in.
Hank’s world dissolved into a cycle of searing pain and crushing fullness. Kaidan set a punishing rhythm, each thrust a claim, a punishment, a perverse reunion. The wet slap of skin on skin, Kaidan’s ragged breaths, Hank’s own choked whimpers—they filled the room. The collar bit into Hank’s throat with every drive forward. The ropes dug into his wrists.
“You left me,” Kaidan grunted, thrusting hard, his pelvis smacking against Hank’s bruised ass. “You had me put away.”
“I—I couldn’t—” Hank tried to form words, but another deep thrust stole his breath.
“You could,” Kaidan snarled, his hands gripping Hank’s hips hard enough to bruise. “You just didn’t want to. You wanted your nice, clean life. Your respectable violence.” He punctuated each sentence with a savage snap of his hips. “This is what you really are. This. On your knees. Taking my cock like a whore.”
It was true. In the searing, shameful core of him, it was true. The pain was wiping him clean. Each brutal impact was erasing the blood money, the lies, the cold distances he’d built. This was honest. This was real.
His own cock, trapped beneath him, was iron-hard and leaking, bouncing with every thrust. The pain was morphing, twisting into a grotesque parody of pleasure, a feedback loop of degradation and arousal that tightened his balls and coiled tension in his gut.
Kaidan leaned over him, his chest pressing against Hank’s sweaty back. His lips found Hank’s ear. His rhythm never faltered, a hard, drilling pace that kept Hank teetering on the edge of breaking.
“Come for me,” Kaidan whispered, his voice guttural and close. “Come from getting fucked in your dirty apartment. Come for the crazy bitch you locked up.”
The words, the feel of Kaidan inside him, the total surrender—it was too much. A sound tore from Hank’s throat, a ragged, broken sob of release. His orgasm ripped through him, violent and uncontroled, shooting streaks of come onto the pillow and the floor beneath him. His body clamped down on Kaidan’s cock, spasming wildly.
The sensation tipped Kaidan over the edge. With a final, deep lunge, he buried himself and let out a sharp, choked cry. Hank felt the hot, sudden rush of Kaidan’s release filling him, a claiming as intimate as it was vile.
They stayed locked like that for long moments, both shuddering, the only sounds their harsh breathing. Kaidan finally slipped out, a slow, wet withdrawal that made Hank wince.
Silence descended, heavier than before. Hank stayed on his knees, head hanging, dripping with sweat and come and other fluids. He was utterly hollowed, a shell.
He felt Kaidan’s hand, surprisingly gentle, on the back of his neck.
“See?” Kaidan said, his voice soft, almost reverent. “We fit.”
He moved around, his boots stepping in the mess on the floor. He uncuffed Hank’s wrists. The freedom was meaningless. He guided Hank, who moved like a sleepwalker, to the edge of the bed and pushed him down to sit.
Kaidan fetched a damp cloth from the bathroom. He knelt and began to clean Hank’s stomach, his thighs, with a clinical tenderness. He didn’t clean himself. The evidence of his possession dripped down his inner thigh, glistening on the black latex.
Finished, he tossed the cloth aside and sat next to Hank on the bed, their shoulders touching. He leaned his head against Hank’s massive arm.
“The family,” Kaidan said quietly, after a long while. “Your uncle, Vincenzo. He’s looking for you. They’re all looking for the big guy who missed a meet.”
Hank’s blood, which had felt like sludge, turned to ice.
Kaidan turned his head, his pink hair brushing Hank’s shoulder. He looked up, his sky-blue eyes clear and calm.
“Don’t worry,” he whispered, a smile playing on his swollen lips. “I’ll help you call them. We’ll tell them you’re sick. And then…” He traced a finger down the bite marks on Hank’s neck. “Then we figure out how my favorite made man is going to explain his new roommate.”