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The barroom air was thick with smoke and tension.
Leave now, said a voice at the back of Kim’s mind. A new voice, one that had not accompanied him on missions like this in the past. It had a protective tenor to it.
It sounded like Will.
But it had been hard work getting this meeting and he knew he couldn’t back out now, no matter how much Will’s voice wanted him to. He had been working on George Harding for months now. Light flirtations that could be taken any way the other man wanted, a brush of Kim’s foot against his shin under the table. Lowered lashes over drinks. All of this eventually led to rough fucking in alleys that Kim was barely present for. He would stare at the patterns in the brickwork and think of how necessary this was. He needed to gain this vile man’s trust in order to be granted access to his private club, a hive belonging to a prominent member of London’s underworld, where documents of great importance to national security were hidden away.
Somewhere. If only Kim could get away and find them.
It’s necessary, he had told Will after his last encounter with Harding, repeating the words DS had used on him. Will had been examining a bruise on Kim’s upper back, across his right shoulder, from where Harding had pinned him to the rough stone wall when he fucked his face. Will had been quiet and Kim hadn’t looked him in the eyes.
Will took sex with other men for the service of the nation in stride, knowing it was part of the job, knowing how much Kim loathed it. He was less kind about the way these men treated Kim, having a belief in Kim’s worth that still felt foreign, and it was obviously getting harder for him to stay quiet about this aspect of the job during briefings.
Maybe if he was successful tonight DS would give him a reprieve, or even retire him from this line of work for good.
Most likely that would just prove how good you are at this, Kim thought, and tried to ignore the little shiver of pleasure that ran down his spine.
“I’m so glad you could join us, my dear boy,” Harding said, snapping Kim’s attention back to the present. They were seated at a cozy table at the back of a posh and well-appointed room, legs brushing under the table. His companion was not an unattractive man, which should have made it easier, in theory. Tall and broad-shouldered, he was a good ten years or so older than Kim but his face was smooth, his dark eyes bright, and his hair had an attractive dusting of gray at the temples. And his hands – they were large and tough and each time they were laid on his body Kim felt a momentary thrill, until the reality of who this was came to him, and left him sick inside.
The four men in the shadows he did not know, but they seemed to follow Harding everywhere. Silent and always staring, two large and two slender, they presented an impressive wall of uneasy indifference.
“I appreciate the invitation,” Kim responded, putting on his best society voice. He lowered his eyes again, knowing how much Harding enjoyed the submissive look.
Harding was silent for a moment too long. Kim stole a look at him – eased back in his chair, his face inscrutable. Kim squirmed in his seat.
“Please,” Harding finally spoke. He lifted one hand and one of his lackeys handed him a cut-glass tumbler already filled with a brown liquid. “Have a drink.”
There was no bottle or other glass on the table in front of them.
“Oh course,” Kim said. His throat felt tight and he was using every bit of his strength and skill to try and keep his face soft and open. “I’ll have a sidecar. I can make it if…”
Harding lifted the glass to Kim’s lips.
It smelled sharp and overwhelming, and Harding was leaning across the table, his large frame blocking the little amount of light that was spilling in from the street. His four companions had moved closer too, crowding the table.
Harding’s eyes were intent on Kim’s, his thin lips curled up in a smile of true pleasure. Kim held his gaze for a moment then flicked it up briefly, catching the intent stares of the four other men.
Kim’s lips parted and the glass was placed against them. When he tried to pull back he suddenly felt strong arms around his chest, his jaw forced open, a burning in his throat…
*******
Cold water was splashed onto his face. Kim sputtered.
“There now. He’s awake,” a voice somewhere to his left said.
Kim tried to raise himself up to see who was talking but found it to be a great effort. It felt like there was lead in his veins and his head was a muddled mess. After some struggling he was able to lift his head and his shoulders up slightly and the room spun. His limbs felt numb and prickling and his mouth tasted foul.
Still, he was able to get a sense of his surroundings. He was lying face-up on a rough table, and when he blinked the water out of his eyes he was able to get a much clearer idea of where he was. It was a room not unlike the bar but smaller, darker, lit only by a bare bulb hanging in the center of a ceiling made of rafters. The walls looked rough and slick – stone, he figured, and the air held the smell of mildew and a slight coolness that said they were underground. He felt it all over his skin – he was naked, he realized then. Wooden stairs hugged one wall and Kim realized they were in the cellar.
“Don’t bother to struggle,” said Harding’s voice, close to his ear. “You need all your energy for this, dear boy.”
A low rumble of laughter filled the room. Kim, feeling his limbs begin to awaken, tried to move but something was still holding him back. Hands, he quickly surmised. He saw that the four other men from above had joined them down here. He could mostly see their shadows against the walls, smell the smoke and liquor on their clothing.
Harding’s hand rested at Kim’s sternum, his fingers splayed, the touch light but offering no comfort. Two of the men from above, the larger two, were gripping Kim’s ankles and his hands were restrained above his head by the two more slender lackeys – though even as he struggled he found he could not break the grip, to the laughter of the five gathered men.
“I know all about you, my dear boy,” Harding said, his voice sounding sad and disappointed. His fingers were tracing light patterns on Kim’s chest. Kim repressed the needy sound that was making its way up his throat.
“I know what you’re after, and you must know that I can’t allow that.” He stopped his hand for a moment, then scratched Kim lightly with his nails. Kim’s toes curled.
“And that I can’t allow you to leave here without learning your lesson.” He dragged that hand up Kim’s chest, grazed the line of his throat, and took his chin in hand, forcing Kim to stare into his eyes. With his free hand, Harding loudly snapped his fingers.
The man holding Kim’s left arm moved slightly, fingers digging painfully into Kim’s wrist as he positioned himself. It was the one with the broken nose, Kim remembered, though all Kim could see now was his trousers, straining with an erection. Broken Nose hurried to undo himself and Kim watched, eyes wide and heart pounding, as his length was freed. It was thick and veiny, at odds with his lean frame and something he would have admired in any other circumstance. The glistening tip was quickly pressed against Kim’s closed lips and he felt a wave of revulsion at the taste of it.
“Open up, slut. I’ve heard about your mouth,” Broken Nose said. Kim felt his cheeks burning, the protest on his lips cut off by the man shoving his tool to the back of Kim’s throat in one long slide. He gagged, choking on the meat, and the man grabbed the back of head and pushed Kim forward, beginning to fuck his face with no finesse, allowing him no time at all to catch his breath.
Kim found his face shoved into the thick patch of wiry dark curls at the base of the man’s cock again and again and the smell of it, the musk and the sweat, was almost overwhelming. He couldn’t move away, his head held in place by this man and Harding. He could see nothing but the edge of this man’s trousers and the darkness beyond.
“Oh, fuck yes,” the man gritted out through clenched teeth. Kim felt tears gathering at the corners of his eyes, and was suddenly assaulted by a memory of when he first cried in front of Will during this, and how Will had stopped immediately. Kim had to assure Will that his tears were merely from the pleasure of being overwhelmed, that it was good.
He didn’t know where the tears came from now. There was pain, but that wasn’t exactly something he was unused to. Shame seemed the most likely culprit – it was at the forefront of his mind, tingling through his skin, aided by the fact that his own cock had quickly hardened and was standing tall, still and leaking against his stomach. His mind knew that this was horrible, a violation, and not something he should ever want, but the smell of men and sex was too much.
He tried to keep Will in his mind for a bit, tried to leave this space and imagine that he was experiencing all these sensations in the safety of his lover’s arms, but the idea of Will being anywhere near this was sickening to him. He shoved Will into a corner in his mind, locked him away, and felt his body go slack.
“Look at him,” the man holding his other arm said. Kim thought this was the one with the piercing blue eyes. “He loves it.”
“Of course he does, he’s made for this,” Harding said, petting Kim’s hair like he was a pet. Kim tried to pull back from his touch but Harding only dug his fingers into his scalp.
“You used to go to the bathhouse and take cock after cock, I heard. Are you too good for this now? Too good to be a whore?” Harding said with a sharp laugh. He caressed Kim’s cheek, feeling out the shape of the cock filling him, and then slapped him lightly. Kim moaned against the man in his mouth, and the brute fucking his face shoved himself against to the back of Kim’s throat again and held himself there. Kim coughed, sputtering and shaking as he tried to get breath.
Just when it seemed like he would pass out again the man pulled back just enough to allow him to take a trembling gulp of air, then he was back at it. Kim felt his lips begin to tingle, and his mind started to drift.
A familiar numbness overtook him, something he hadn’t felt in years. It had been a constant companion at school and in the days after Henry’s death. He was aware of his body but not in it; this was just something that was happening to it. It would be over at some point, one way or another.
Without warning Broken Nose came down his throat, a rush of hot come that Kim could thankfully barely taste. He pulled out, leaving a trail of spit between them, and slapped Kim across the face once with his still-hard tool to the general amusement of the group.
“Good boy,” Harding said. He still held Kim by the hair and Kim could hear him unbuttoning his trousers with one hand.
Kim’s head was violently turned to the other side and he was presented with another cock, slimmer but no less engorged, dripping and ready, the man slowly pumping himself to Kim’s debasement. Kim instinctively tried to move away before it reached his lips, but Harding’s grip was strong and demanding and he forced Kim on it.
“Fuck that’s good,” the new man said. “Christ, you were right Harding.”
“Of course I was,” Harding said, and Kim could hear the slick sounds of him working himself over, close to Kim’s ear. “He’s so good on his knees, that’s his real calling.”
The men holding Kim’s legs suddenly, almost on unspoken cue, pushed them up against his chest, forcing him open, pulling him down across the table. Kim arched back, trying to escape, but the drug had taken what strength he had from him, and he had no hope of taking on five men in a fight. Will could, he thought, but then he felt the renewed horror at picturing Will seeing this scene. Kim had seduced marks before but he always trembled in Will’s arms after the deed was done. If Will saw him like this, hard as he had ever been while being manhandled by these men, what would he think of Kim?
He’d think you’re a whore, because you are, said a sharp voice in his head. An older companion, far more familiar and comfortable than the protective one.
“How many men do you think he’s served with his arse?” one of the men holding him down said. He dropped one hand from Kim’s left calf. Kim tried to kick free once more but it was useless, and the press of hands increased. This man–large and blonde, oh God no – circled Kim’s hole with a thick finger. Kim tried to protest but his mouth was full of cock and all that came out was a desperate whine that made the others laugh.
He had prepped himself before coming, fearing that Harding would not consider his pleasure, but he suddenly wondered if he had done enough. He had thought he would take one man. The blonde man slid one finger into him, all the way to the knuckle
“Is he loose?” Harding asked, blasé.
The finger inside of him was thick and callused and Kim tried hard not to think of Will. He worked himself in and out, fucking Kim with his hand, joining the digit with another one and stretching him open. “Why don’t you have the first go and tell us?”
Harding chuckled and with a final pat to Kim’s head he moved down in between his spread legs. Kim could barely see at first, his face turned toward the man using his mouth, but as if on a cue from his boss the man suddenly pulled back from Kim’s lips and gave himself one, two strokes before spurting his release all over Kim’s face and neck. Kim managed to keep it from getting in his eyes by squeezing them shut, but he still felt the hot come like a brand. Then the man grabbed both of Kim’s arms and pulled them roughly above his head, pinning them there, splayed for Harding’s amusement.
Harding ginned down at him. He was still completely dressed, his cock protruding from dark trousers. Kim remembered how it had felt in his mouth, the weight and taste of it. Harding spit in his hand, slicked his length, and entered Kim without delay or care. Kim let out a choking sound as he felt something tear, but the pain was brief. His body then clenched around the cock in his arse, holding it tight, almost inviting it despite the protestations of his mind.
“Mmm. A bit slack. To be expected,” he said, punctuating his words with a slight roll of his hips. Another round of laughter rose from the group. He settled himself all the way in, balls deep, and grabbed on to Kim’s hips. “But nice and hot.”
“Look at him,” the man holding Kim’s left leg said. He reached down with one hand and ghosted Kim’s engorged and almost constantly leaking cock. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a stiff prick.”
Harding wasn’t moving, just holding himself there, Kim pinned on his cock. Kim stared up at the ceiling, not wanting to see the spot where they were joined. His eyes were burning, and a shuddering sob suddenly wracked his body, with such a force he felt he pulled a muscle. The tears picked up again, making hot trails down his face, cleaning away the come.
“ Please…” He rasped, his throat raw from the fucking. He wanted to ask them to stop, to let him go, even though he knew it was useless. It didn’t matter. He didn’t matter. His words were cut off by Harding pulling all the way out and then slamming into him once, twice, before finding a rhythm. Kim squeezed his eyes shut but he couldn’t block out the other sensations.
The slick sounds of others' pleasuring themselves filled Kim’s ears, his painfully hard cock bouncing uselessly, pitifully, against his stomach. Something hot sprayed against his chest and he realized one of the others had come on him.
“Lord Arthur," Harding gritted out. Kim could tell he was close. “Look at you. You were born for this, born to be a cheap rent boy.” He reached out and grabbed Kim’s cock with one hand and gave it a painful tug before dropping it. It wasn’t enough and Kim whimpered with desperate need when he let it go.
“Desperate for cock,” he continued. “Beg for it. Beg for me to fill you.”
Kim shook his head which earned him another smack across the face from one of the men.
“We’ll let you come if you do,” Harding continued. His fingers lightly teased the head of Kim’s cock, sending jolts of confused pleasure rushing through Kim. And that was enough.
He was so weak.
“Please,” he muttered again. This time, he was allowed to finish. “Please, fill me.”
Harding pulled all the way out, until just the tip remained inside Kim. “Louder,” he commanded.
“No one can hear you down here pretty boy,” the man holding his arms said.
Kim swallowed. He glanced at one of the men holding his leg, at the still-hard cock in his hand. He felt a wave of nausea overtake him, even as his body tried to pull Harding back inside, clinging to the thick cock.
“Please,” he said again, louder. He looked Harding right in the eye this time, and felt any sense of his new-found pride and self-worth melt away. “I’m a slut for cock. For come. Give it to me.”
Harding’s grin was wide and horrifying to witness. His eyes were cold and inhuman. He rolled his hips once more, settling into his task. Kim breathed heavily throughout, clenching around the member inside him, trying to rush him to his climax.
The sound of Harding fucking his arse, his heavy balls bouncing off Kim, filled the room, joined by the sound of the other men working themselves over. The two who had used his mouth and the one who had soiled his chest were still somewhat hard, Kim could see, and clearly hoping they could get a second round at his body. The other was holding his cock, which looked painfully hard, at the base, clearly trying not to come until he got his turn at Kim’s hole. Kim’s own cock was making a mess of his belly with his dripping need, and the feeling of betrayal he felt looking at it settled hard in his gut.
He thought of the bathhouses, when he let men use him just like Harding had said. Slicking himself before, striding naked and then bending over, taking all comers. He lost track of how many cocks he would take then, his mind a haze of drink and drugs, but even that low point of his life felt better than now. He had allowed Will to treat him as someone who had worth. That made this worse.
When Harding came it was with a deep growl that seemed ripped from some other man, unlike any sound Kim had heard from him before. He stayed inside Kim for only a moment before he pulled out roughly. Kim could feel the come leaking from him, probably tinged with blood; there was nothing to keep the other men from watching it. He felt open and more exposed than ever and so, so needy and pathetic.
“Not bad,” Harding proclaimed. He patted Kim’s slick hole once, in pleasure. The sound it made was humiliating. He moved to the man holding Kim’s left leg, the man who had yet to come, and switched positions with him. “Your turn,” he said.
Kim thrashed with renewed energy, instinctively, but that only made the men holding him press down more. The other man leaned down and spat on his hole, more for the indignity of the action than a need for lubricant. The brute gave himself another slow pump and slid in with a soft grunt. Kim’s sore arsehole took this new other cock easily, Harding’s come lubricating the way even further. He threw his head back and caught Harding’s eyes.
He knew his face was a mess, covered in come and tears. His lips felt raw, from his teeth and the friction of cock. His mind was full of nothing but the feelings of shame and need, the two twinning together until he couldn’t tell one from the other, a combination whose familiarity did not make it less horrifying. Kim opened his mouth to beg to be allowed to come, to end his own need and suffering, only to have his jaw gripped and his lips forced around another man’s renewed stand.
All he could focus on now was pain. The pain in his jaw, his mouth stretched too wide around a cock. The pain in his arse as the man pounded and came with a grunt, leaving him wet and open once more, before he was filled again with something hard and unyielding; he didn’t even want to know what that was. The pain in his cock, leaking, proclaiming his status as a whore.
“Do you want to come, my dear boy?” Harding whispered near his ear. He was leaning over Kim, cupping his face. The man abusing his mouth pulled out and came, hot and thick, across Kim’s panting lips.
Kim sputtered. His mouth moved but his voice seemed gone. He squeezed his eyes shut and nodded, admitting defeat.
Harding snapped his fingers. A thick, callused hand wrapped around his cock. It wasn’t the thick hand he wanted but his body reacted just the same.
“Say you’re only good for this,” Harding demanded.
Kim swallowed and blinked away fresh tears. A memory from long ago came to him unbidden, a man standing over him in the alley saying much the same to him as he came down Kim’s throat. Kim had come in his trousers then and had to take the tram home with a newspaper over his lap.
“I’m only good for this. Only good for cock,” he whispered, staring up into Harding’s eyes. The hand on Kim’s cock gave one long pump and suddenly Kim was coming, shuddering against the table and pulling against the hands holding him down, spraying himself with his shame.
A loud bang sounded upstairs.
“What the fuck?” shouted Broken Nose. Harding preemptively grabbed Kim’s shoulders and kept him pinned to the table.
Another man roughly ripped what was in Kim’s hole out and Kim caught a glimpse of the object – a long, black baton – before it was dropped to the table. He wanted to roll away from it but Harding’s grip was tight.
There was another loud crash sound from upstairs, as well as multiple pairs of footsteps. Harding made an impatient noise and the four other men scurried upstairs, grabbing weapons as they did so.
Kim had thought Harding would join them but he remained where he was. He eased his hands from Kim’s shoulders, seemingly confident that fear would keep him in place. Harding began to lightly run on his hand through Kim’s hair, pushing it back from his messy and ruined face. The intimacy of it hurt more than anything that had proceeded, and the sob that pushed itself out of Kim’s mouth was raw and hollow, as if he had been drained of all life.
Shouting from multiple men was heard upstairs, accompanied by a feral growl that sounded almost familiar to Kim’s ears. Another bang, this time distinctly a gun, and then suddenly very little could be heard.
Harding cursed under his breath and dropped Kim’s head, moving to the stairs. Kim took a moment to settle his panicked breathing and raised himself up on his elbows, feeling awkward with the relative freedom, just in time to see Will burst through the door. Will’s gaze swept the room, eyes catching Kim’s for a moment, as Harding began to run full-tilt towards him up the stairs.
Will turned on him, and in one quick movement drove the Messer into his throat.
Blood spray arched against the wall and Will ducked, missing most of it. Harding’s hand shot out, his fingers trying to find purchase on the slick stone, mouth opening and closing with no sound escaping. He was holding his throat with one hand, turning his gaze toward Kim as his blood drained out of him.
Will kicked him savagely in the ribs, knocking him out of the way as he made his way toward Kim.
“Kim, Christ,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically soft. Kim had sat up fully, his body shaking as he curled in on himself, hoping to hide what had been done, but he knew Will had seen it all. The come, the tears, the blood, the bruises and marks on his body. The baton.
“The others?” Kim said. His voice sounded flat in his ears.
“Dead, hopefully,” Will answered when he reached Kim’s side. His eyes were still locked on Kim’s, and Kim could see one hand clenching and unclenching instinctively, the other holding the Messer so tightly his knuckles were white. Kim had a fleeting thought of allowing Will to hit him, of giving him another outlet for his anger, of letting Kim feel some release from pain, but he knew that wouldn’t be welcomed.
Will pressed a hand to his upper back and the touch, rough and calloused and familiar, was too much. Kim shuddered, his teeth chattering. He stared down at his arms wrapped around his knees, not looking at Will. He could feel his concerned gaze and he felt nothing but inadequate in the face of it.
“The backup is upstairs. I wanted to…find you myself.” Will reached out with his other hand and cupped Kim’s chin but didn’t force his gaze upward. He was letting Kim dictate this. “Can you walk?”
“I don’t know where my clothes are,” Kim answered, as if that mattered.
Will’s hand on his chin tensed and Kim could hear his shaky breathing as he attempted to control himself. But he didn’t move away, didn’t fling himself from Kim’s shameful presence, didn’t press him with questions. Instead he perched himself on the edge of the table and when Kim finally allowed his chin to be lifted he looked straight into Kim’s eyes.
Will’s gaze was pained, his mouth tight, and Kim could see the way he was keeping himself under control, a skill he seemingly had picked up from Kim.
Will pulled away suddenly and Kim felt as if he had been allowed to fall from a great height, helpless and abandoned, before he realized Will was removing his coat. He threw it over Kim’s shoulders. The fabric swamped him, the material rough, the scent of old books and Will’s soap filling his nostrils. He took the ends in trembling hands and pulled it as tight around himself as he could.
“Should I fetch a doctor?” Will asked. Kim was suddenly aware, from the tone of his voice, that he had no idea what to do, that he simply felt a sudden need to protect and heal. The tears ran down Kim’s cheeks anew, hot and silent.
“No. It wasn’t…that much different from what I had before.” He let the words hang between them, staring down at the grain of the table. His body was still trembling. He used this nervous energy to kick the baton away, listening with satisfaction as it hit the floor. Then he fell forward and collapsed against Will.
Will wrapped him in his arms and his warmth, the pounding of his heart, the steadiness of his breath was all Kim could focus on for what felt like a very long time. Will’s fingers carded through his hair, and he said nothing, just allowed himself to be the solid force holding Kim together. Kim kept his eyes closed and was briefly aware of the door opening and Will hurling curses at the poor agent who came to check on them.
“Fuck DS,” Will said, either to Kim or himself. His voice wasn’t as steady as his body, his words somewhat of a rambling mess. “I’ll never let you do this again. This… fuck. Kim. You don’t need to talk. DS never should have put you in this situation. You did nothing wrong. I want to gut him, I want…”
It’s my own fault. This is what I’m made for, Kim thought, but didn’t say. He knew how Will would respond.
“Take me home,” was all he could manage, his voice muffled by Will’s shoulder, and he didn’t even need to hear Will’s response. He trusted him.