Warnings: This chapter contains depiction of rape.

Chapter 15

For a Wednesday afternoon during Spring Break, Tom's Pizza Bistro was quieter than usual. A worker, futilely trying to bring some semblance of cleanliness to the restaurant, was sweeping up breadcrumbs and dirt from around empty tables. Music drifted in from the back kitchen - a faint pop ditty that was just indiscernible over the bustle of the workers. Someone had even gone out of their way to fix one of the askew pictures of tomatoes that plastered the wall.

None of it made the restaurant anymore appealing to Kurt. He wished he had spoken up when Lance had suggested it for a lunch date before meeting up with Mark afterwards. He had hoped that maybe he could handle it. That he could disassociate the place from what had happened. It would be one more step in proving to himself that he was making progress in moving past Trieg.

But it wasn't as easy as he thought it'd be.

From their booth along the back wall of the restaurant, Kurt had a perfect view of the main sitting area. Though the tables were all separated into 4 tops now, he could still perfectly recall sitting there with the team. Everyone else bantering and enjoying a well deserved treat. While he sat there. Frozen. As Trieg-

"Hey!" Lance's shout and accompanying kick underneath the table startled Kurt back to the present.

"Ouch. What?"

"Stop giving me the silent treatment." Lance looked pissed - his arms crossed in front of him while an angry scowl marred his face.

"I'm not giving you the silent treatment."

"Yeah, that's why I've been here talking to myself for the past 5 minutes while you've made artwork of your napkin."

Kurt looked down. The torn shreds of his napkin were strewn in front of him, making tiny mosaic snowflakes.

"If you didn't want pineapple on the pizza, you should've said something." Lance grumbled something more under his breath, but Kurt didn't catch it.

"Pineapple is fine. I'm not ignoring you. I was just distracted." Kurt swept the napkin remnants into a small pile and pushed it by his crumpled straw wrapper.

"What? I'm not entertaining enough?"

"No! I was just-"

Lance uncrossed his arms and leaned forward. "I'm kidding…. well, mostly. You were being a pretty shitty date."

Chagrined, Kurt doubled his efforts to leave the past where it belonged. He shifted his body towards Lance and forced his mind to sanction off the unwanted memories. "Sorry. What were you saying?"

"Oh something amazing. Looks like you'll never know."

Kurt smiled slightly as Lance's ire cooled. "I guess not. My pain is great."

"Damn right it is."

Encouraged by the effect of his flippancy, Kurt decided to lay it on. "My suffering… unfathomable."

"So unfathomable."

"My regret like a wounded bird that shall never fly again."

Laughing, Lance shook his head. "Now you're just being an over-dramatic dick."

Kurt smiled innocently in response.

"So now that you've learned to never ignore me, what were you so deeply thinking about anyways?"

Kurt paused a second, debating on whether to bring it up or not. He didn't really feel like talking about it, but he didn't want to brush Lance off either. He settled on an ambiguous answer. "Last time we were here. But it's not important."

Lance screwed his mouth to the side in disbelief. "Come on. You didn't just daze off for nothing. Let me think." Looking up at the faded, yellow popcorn ceiling, he furrowed his brow. "Gross, look at all the spitballs up there."

Kurt glanced up and saw Lance was right. The ceiling was covered in little wads of straw wrappings from bored teenagers. "Yuck. I hope one doesn't fall in my drink."

"Anyway, wasn't that when we went here after our first tournament?" Lance's eyes widened in remembrance. "Oh shit, that was when I called you a freak. Is that what you were thinking about?"

"No-" Kurt began, but Lance barreled on past any objection.

"You know I don't think that. I mean you shouldn't, since we're together and all, and that I'm really-"

While Kurt appreciated Lance's repentance, not only was it unnecessary, he had just bottled down the memory and didn't need Lance prying off the lid. "Stop. That wasn't it. It wasn't anything."

"It wasn't?" Lance sat there confused a second. "Because I remember you ignoring me at the table and-"

"It doesn't matter. Just drop it, okay?" Kurt wished he had some napkin leftover or anything to distract himself. Or maybe some non-sequitur to derail the conversation, but his thoughts stuttered like a lagging video as Lance drew closer to the truth.

Too wrapped up in trying to figure out what had happened, Lance remained oblivious to Kurt's disquiet. "-chasing you to the bathroom where you said… Oh!.." In a softer tone, Lance repeated himself. "...oh…"

Kurt could tell from Lance's sympathetic expression he must've figured it out.

"At the table, you were sitting next to Trieg, and…. Did something happen?"

"Yes," Kurt bit out harsher than he intended. He took a deep, steadying breath before continuing. "But enough about it. I don't want to talk about it."

He could tell that Lance had a million things he wanted to say in response. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, struggling to bite back any prodding questions. In the end, he simply said, "Sorry. Fucking Christ, I know how to put my foot in it."

Kurt waved off the apology with a shake from his head. He didn't want to say anything. He just wanted the topic to die. He was glad that Lance didn't pester him with any more follow up questions, but it let a drifting silence settle in. Drumming his fingers on the table, he turned and watched the worker who had been busily sweeping the carpet roll the contraption to a back supply closet. "Despite him just cleaning the carpet, it still looks like the bottom of Toad's shoes."

Lance let out of a snuff of laughter. "Yeah. This place is pretty gross. And I don't want any spitballs falling on our food. When the pizza comes, you wanna get it to go and get out of here?"

Relieved, Kurt replied, "Yes. Best idea you've had yet."

"Damn straight. Now where's our fucking waitress?"

Fortuitously, the waitress was headed their way with a steaming pan.

"Great. Can't wait to get out of this shithole."

Though Lance's crassness could be embarrassing, Kurt couldn't help but smile at his support. Still, while the waitress was just out of earshot from Lance's scathing remark, there was no need to disparage the place in front of her. Just as she arrived, Kurt timed a well placed kick, cutting off any commentary from Lance.

"One pineapple and Canadian bacon pizza," the waitress recited their order as she placed the pizza in the center of the table.

"Actually, I'm really sorry, but can we get this to go?" Kurt directed to the waitress.

"Oh. Um, yeah ok." She picked it up and balanced it carefully back into her hands. "I'll get this boxed up for you and the check then."

"Thanks."

As soon as she left, Lance turned on Kurt. "What was that for?"

"The waitress was coming. I didn't want you calling the place a shithole in front of her. She is handling our food."

"Whatever. She'd probably agree with me. Besides, you know you like me being all..." Lance cockily raised his eyebrows up and down, "arshlock-y and all."

"We need to work on your German pronunciation."

Lance smirked in response, catching Kurt's omission of denial to his statement.

With a nearly empty restaurant, it didn't take long for the waitress to box up their pizza and then cash them out. Upon stepping outside, Kurt felt the tension slide off as the tightness in his shoulders and spine released in an exhale.

Lance put his hand on his back, rubbing slightly in support. "Better?"

"Ja." Overcome with a surge of affection towards Lance, Kurt grabbed his hand, leading him around the side of the building. Making sure no one was around, he turned and gave Lance a quick kiss.

Lance returned it with a smug raise of his eyebrows and self-satisfied grin. "Definitely better."

Unable to resist, Kurt pulled him down for a longer kiss. It wasn't exactly the most romantic spot next to the cracked asphalt and discarded trash washed up against the curb, but Kurt couldn't have cared less as Lance grabbed his ass to pull him closer. In turn, he wrapped his tail around Lance's thigh while stroking his hand down the small of Lance's back.

A passing car's horn startled them enough to finally break apart.

"You sure you want to meet up with Mark later?" asked Lance.

Though what Lance was suggesting was very appealing, Mark was already a bit sensitive to the fact that they were dating. Kurt wasn't going to break plans and give rise to any more concern. "We're not ditching him."

"Too bad." Lance stepped back but kept his hands on Kurt's hips. "But I guess you're right. Good thing you're here to be my good side."

With a last rub over Lance's chest followed by a quick kiss, Kurt bent down to pick up the pizza box dropped during their heated kiss before heading behind the building to teleport. "Come on," he turned his head slightly as he called back while walking around the corner. "We can-"

Something fast and hard hit his head. There was a bright burst of pain. Then nothing.

QQQQQQ

Kurt was disoriented. He felt like he was surrounded by too much sound while at the same time, absolute silence. Everything was a dancing black that pulsed in time with a growing, painful throbbing in his head. As he slowly roused, he began to recall in bits and pieces what had happened. He had been with… Lance? They had gone somewhere…. to eat, right? Somewhere he didn't want to be. Tom's. They were leaving Tom's Pizza Bistro and then…

And then?

Kurt didn't know. One second he was turning to say something to Lance, and then next….

Worried and confused, Kurt forced his eyes open.

The sudden light caused black and red spots to flash in front of his eyes. The pain veered to a sharp stab, causing him to squeeze his eyes shut until it settled once more to a dull pulse. This time squinting, Kurt let his eyes slowly adjust until the dark splotches faded from his vision and the pain remained manageable.

A textured brown greeted his eyes. After a second, he realized he was lying down, facing the back of an unfamiliar couch - its fabric rough against his face, and the cushions well worn from use. He could feel a trickle of… something running from his temple down the side of his face. Gently, he touched his throbbing head. His hand came away red. Alarmed, Kurt quickly sat up, which was a mistake. Suppressing the urge to puke, he caught himself on the back of the couch. His head protested the movement as the room spun for a second before coming into focus.

He was in a fairly tidy, small one-bedroom apartment. Heavy curtains were drawn across the large casement windows to his left. A few rays of sun cast rectangles on the floor as they escaped the bottom hem of the curtains. Despite the blocked windows, the apartment was brightly lit from recessed lighting and two floor lamps that chased away any shadow. To his right, behind a bar-height countertop, a messy kitchen overlooked the rest of the compact living room. The couch sat squarely in between, but as he turned around, instead of a view of the television, just five feet in front of him was Lance, tied to a dining chair, zip ties cutting into his hands and bound around his ankles. Behind him stood Trieg, gun in hand firmly pressed against the back of Lance's head.

Kurt felt his heart stop and his breath catch. Ignoring the pain in his head, he forced himself to turn the rest of the way. Panic was his first reaction. His mind went into a loop of Nos before Kurt swallowed it down. He had to remain in control. He had to assess the situation.

"I'm so glad Sleepy Beauty could join us. Let me tell you how this is going to go."

Trying his best to employ all his X-men experience to the situation and to suppress his distress, Kurt kept his eyes trained on Trieg. No doubt, Trieg could read the fear in his eyes, but he had to be ready in case Trieg let his guard down. If there was an opportunity for escape, he couldn't let it pass him by. He shifted on the couch, readying himself to be in the best position to take advantage of any openings.

"Don't move. Don't get up. Don't you dare try anything at all. If I even think you're about to do anything, I will shoot him." Trieg backed up his threat by pushing the gun harder against Lance, forcing Lance to grunt and bend his head down.

Kurt froze. He didn't doubt Trieg's threat. There was an unhinged look in his bloodshot eyes, but his hand was steady - the gun unwavering against Lance. Kurt's minuscule hold on his emotions was starting to slip. His mind and heart raced, both trying to outdo the other. What to do, how to escape, how to stop, please….

"You are going to do everything I say. Everything. You are going to learn how to respect me. How to follow my orders. Any bit of defiance…." Trieg racked the slide of his gun, the chambering noise a punctuation to his threat.

His mind screamed at him to run. To get out. Teleport. Escape this nightmare.

He caught Lance's eyes. They shared a terrified stare before Kurt realized that Lance was mouthing something to him.

Teleport! Go!

Kurt minutely shook his head. He'd never leave Lance. It wasn't even an option. Lance's return look was anguished. Kurt couldn't handle it.

Instead, he looked at Trieg. At the wildness in his eyes, the veins bulging in his neck from tension, and his finger resting near the trigger of the gun. Could he teleport them out in time? Have Lance start an earthquake as a distraction before porting them both out? But there was so much that could go wrong. There was just no way he could teleport over to Lance and then them both to safety before Trieg fired the gun. And if Kurt tried to escape by himself, hoping that he was the focus of rage and desire? What if Trieg shot Lance anyway? Could Trieg be bluffing? Maybe, but he couldn't risk it.

"All you have to do is what I say and no harm will come to him." Trieg patted the gun against the side of Lance's face. "That's not too difficult." Trieg tried to make his voice sound soothing, but to Kurt, it felt like knives raking his back.

He sat frozen, trying not to look at Lance again. If he did, he thought he might lose his small grasp on control. He couldn't look at Trieg either. Couldn't stand to see the way he was leering at him. He shifted his gaze to the gun thrust against Lance. He didn't see a way out of this unless Trieg made a mistake.

Trieg, though, seemed to have everything planned out. The gun, the zip ties, the set up. He knew where they were going to be. Where to jump them. There was no more ace up the sleeve. No more last second saves. His heart squeezed in a stranglehold of emotions as his mind painted the picture of his reality.

His expression must've crumpled because Trieg broke out into a triumphant smile.

"Good. Good so far. See, I knew you had it in you. Knew you could finally see that I'm the one you should be listening to."

Kurt's hands clenched the couch beneath him at the condescending praise.

"Now let's hear you say it. Say that you're going to do everything I tell you to."

Kurt swallowed deeply, not wanting to capitulate, not wanting to give Trieg the satisfaction.

"Say it." Trieg tapped his finger against the side of the trigger in warning.

Kurt could feel each tap of Trieg' fingers reverberate in his soul. "I'll-" He had to stop to take a shuddering breath. "I'll do everything…"

Trieg raised his brows. "Say it all."

Before Kurt could comply, Lance broke in. "You're one sick bastard, you know that? One fucking sick, demented - "

A loud bang cut the diatribe short. Kurt let out a strangled "No" as his heart clenched in fear. He was already halfway up off the couch, ready to teleport over.

"Sit down or the next one goes through his skull!"

Kurt shakingly complied, his hand clutched against his head as the dulled pain sharpened from the violent gun report. He scanned Lance for any injuries - trying to determine where or if Trieg shot him. Eyes wide and chest heaving, Lance looked shaken, but alive. A bullet hole still slightly smoked right between his legs, straight down the middle of the chair. Kurt's relief was short-lived.

"As I said before, you-" Trieg struck Lance with the gun against the back of his head, "shut the fuck up. You say nothing. You do nothing. And you-" Trieg turned to Kurt. "You do everything I say. No more hesitating. You fucking do it. Got it?"

Kurt starred daggers at him, anger briefly overriding the encompassing fear, but it quickly petered out. That was too close, and there was no doubt what Trieg was capable of. "Yes," Kurt bit out.

Trieg's stare was piercing and his voice low and intense. "That's not what I want to hear."

"I'll…" The words felt like barbed wire scraping along his throat, but Kurt wasn't going to risk any defiance. "I'll do everything you tell me to."

While the crazed look faded from Trieg's eyes, his satisfied smirk was no less comforting. "Good. That's what I want. Now, that we all understand our positions," his accompanying pat against Lance's cheek was patronizing but Lance was helpless to retaliate, "let's get started. See that glass on the table by you? Pour yourself a drink from that whiskey handle."

Kurt looked over at the side table by the couch. The yellow of the whiskey glistened sickeningly underneath the light of the lamp on the table. The handle was already at least three-quarters gone, and beside it sat a short crystal tumbler with slowly melting ice inside.

"See how thoughtful I was? I even gave you some ice."

Kurt felt his throat go dry. His hands shook as he followed Trieg's order. Everything seemed to fall silent - the only noise the clinking of the ice as the amber liquid sloshed into the glass.

"Now, one last finishing bit. Take that capsule beside the glass and toss it in. Consider it a garnish for your drink." Trieg laughed at his joke.

Kurt had overlooked the small capsule filled with a white powder substance. It looked so innocuous - like a generic pain reliever. But he knew what it was and hesitated. He felt hot and sick. He could cry while simultaneously, wanting to fling the glass straight at Trieg's face.

"That move you pulled at the gymnastics tournament was pretty slick. But then I thought, if you could just disappear whenever you wanted, why didn't you in the locker room? So I connected the dots," Trieg boasted. "You see, that little pill was a special blend. So I just knew I had to order some up for our next meeting."

Kurt couldn't stand to see the triumph in Trieg's face. He glanced over at Lance - his eyes burned intensely into Kurt's before he silently urged, Don't.

"Remember, I said no more hesitating." Trieg pushed the gun harder against Lance's temple, who maintained his stare with Kurt.

Just teleport, Lance mouthed again. But they both knew that Kurt would never abandon him. He broke eye contact with Lance, not wanting to see the despair as Kurt conceded to Trieg's orders.

Unsuccessfully trying not to tremble, Kurt picked up the capsule and unceremoniously dropped it in the glass. It fizzled a second before disappearing altogether.

"Go ahead. Enjoy." Trieg's smile was vicious.

The scrape of glass as Kurt picked it up was grating. Holding it in front of himself, his throat was in such a knot, he wasn't sure if he'd even be able to swallow it down. He glanced at Trieg, watching him so eagerly. His whole soul protested as he brought the glass up to his lips and took that first sip – knowing that he was drugging himself. Knowing there was only one result that could come of it. What would happen next.

The liquid burned, followed by a warmth that spread from the pit of his stomach out. Even though the pill was dissolved, he felt it travel down his throat, eating away at his inside. He wanted to puke. He couldn't help but gag around the glass. Coughing, he held the glass away from him as tears leaked from his eyes. His throat felt seared from the hard liquor.

"Can't handle your whiskey yet? Well that's too bad. Finish it. Now."

Having no choice, Kurt kicked back the drink, trying to down the rest as quickly as he could. It was like he'd just drunk liquid fire. As he finished the last of the dram, another coughing fit overwhelmed him, almost causing him to drop the tumbler.

Trieg watched him indifferently before tilting his head as if considering his options. "Pour yourself another. But first, take off your watch."

Kurt stared down at the empty tumbler clutched tightly in his hands. A few golden droplets clung to the sides and bottom of the glass. He didn't want to think but his brain wouldn't slow down as it blazed through scenarios. Panic and fear ran up and down his throat, tracing the path of the lingering burn from the whiskey. Finally, he put the glass down before undoing his inducer. The false image faded, leaving him exposed.

Trieg inhaled sharply, but Kurt refused to look over at him. Instead, he concentrated on his own movements - placing the inducer on the table, picking up the handle. By now, the ice in the tumbler was mostly melted, leaving more room for alcohol.

Hoping to get away with just a touch, he poured a small splash before starting to set the bottle down when Trieg commanded, "More."

Kurt winced at his voice before following through.

"Keep pouring…. Good."

Kurt didn't know too much about hard liquors, but it seemed like a lot of whiskey. If he had to drink the whole tumbler, he might just pass out. Which would actually be preferable to anything else. Not waiting for Trieg's orders, he picked up the glass. This time, he was able to get a few more sips in before having to stop to cough around the burn.

"That's enough. Go ahead and put it back on the table."

The glass was still over half full. A disappointment.

Kurt waited for Trieg's next orders, but none were forthcoming. Silence permeated the room. Dread pushed through the quiet - its oppressive weight hanging like a Sword of Damocles.

He knew what Trieg was waiting for.

The silent anticipation made him feel feverish (frozen). He wanted to (couldn't) look at Lance. The room was still (deafening) as his fear skittered over his nerves like a thousand beetles. He could hear everything (nothing) from the shift of Trieg's weight to the thump of his own heart. It felt like a thousand years (seconds) before a horrible dizziness began to creep up on him. That same vertigo from the first time he unknowingly ingested the drug.

Desperately, he tried to act fine, to try and trick Trieg that his drug was a dud. He didn't know why. It wouldn't last. Anything to delay the inevitable.

It didn't work. Despite his best efforts, Kurt felt himself listing to one side.

"Stand up," Trieg ordered.

Kurt tried so hard to push the dizziness back, to somehow overpower the drug with willpower alone. He failed. As soon as he pushed himself up, his legs immediately gave beneath him. He would've ended up on the floor if Trieg hadn't rushed over and caught him. Kurt winced as Trieg brutally gripped his arms, holding him so tight his nails bit through Kurt's shirt.

It happened so fast. One second, he felt as if the drug had doubled in power as the room shook and lurched around him. The next, he was roughly thrown back onto the couch, gun shoved against his face.

"I will shoot him. Is that what you want?" Trieg growled at Lance. The cold metal of the gun dug hard against Kurt's cheek as Trieg's anger rose. "Well?"

"No," Lance spit out.

"Then fucking stop with the goddamn tremors. Next time, I swear I'll put a bullet in both of your heads."

Lance must've simmered down because the gun was lifted away. While the room no longer jolted about, the ceiling still spun above Kurt's head. The recessed lights were streaks of white rotating like a carnival's carousel. He felt his legs lifted up so he was fully lying on the couch before being shoved further against the back cushions. He tried to push back, to form some sort of protest, but the barrel of the gun was placed against his bruised temple, eliciting a cry of pain from Kurt. In a perverse lover's touch, the barrel traced a path down his face and neck to his chest, before finally running over his arm.

A heavy weight settled down beside his hips as the gun was lifted away. This time, Trieg's hand followed the same path of the gun before trailing off with a soft brush over his fingers. Kurt flinched back as Trieg reached over him, but he simply grabbed the tumbler from the table. In one gulp, he finished off the rest of the whiskey.

Having a moment of respite from Trieg's attention, Kurt desperately tried to summon his focus, hoping that there was still a chance he could teleport them out. He closed his eyes, concentrating on blocking out the dizziness and the turbidity intruding his thoughts.

He felt Trieg run a hand over his cheek and into his hair before lifting his face away from the couch.

"Look at me."

Kurt didn't fight him this time as he tried to hang onto the minuscule focus he had regained.

"Perfect. So obedient." Kurt could feel the weight of the gun as Trieg caressed his arm with his right hand. "See. I told you I would get my way. I always do."

For a second, Kurt thought Trieg was going to shoot him, but instead he laid the gun down on the side table. Finally having a clear chance, Kurt put everything he had into a teleport.

The dizziness rose back in a tidal wave, this time accompanied with a roiling nausea. Black spots flickered in front of his eyes, for a half-second blotting out Trieg and the dancing lights. He wanted to cry at the loss of his last desperate hope.

But if he couldn't escape that way, maybe he could at least pass out. Multiple times, he tried teleporting, each one draining his strength, causing darkness to encroach his vision for only a second before fading back to the apartment. Unconsciousness eluded him.

As the blackness dissolved from his final attempt, Trieg leaned down over him, one leg thrown over his body in a half straddle. "Are you trying to escape?" He drew closer, close enough for Kurt to smell the alcohol lingering on his breath. "Feeling helpless?" Kurt braced himself for a brute kiss, but instead, Trieg stopped just short - his eyes roved over Kurt's face, as if measuring his next step. Kurt felt cold anticipation travel down his spine. Trieg sat up slightly, pushing back Kurt's hair before tenderly stroking his fingertips along his hairline.

He leaned back down and brushed his lips so softly over Kurt's, as if engaging in a lover's first kiss. The gentleness somehow made it all worse. Kurt turned his head, breaking off contact.

Kurt felt Trieg's sharp intake of air before his hair and jaw were both painfully grabbed. He was forced back to look at Trieg whose eyes blazed in anger and hunger. Without hesitation, Trieg ravaged Kurt's mouth - his hold so brutal that Kurt thought Trieg might just break his jaw. In almost an exact echo of the first time in the locker room, Trieg bit down on his lip, drawing blood, but this time he didn't stop. Kurt could taste the metallic tang along with the whiskey on Trieg's breath.

Kurt tried to push him off, but the drug had enervated him so completely that it only resulted in Trieg laughing at his pitiful resistance. With one last thumb trailing over his lips and cheek, leaving a streak of red, Trieg stood off of him, relieving Kurt of his weight but only for a second. Leaning over again, Trieg began manipulating Kurt like a ragdoll and started tugging him out of his shirts. First his red flannel followed by his black t-shirt underneath.

Kurt's breath hitched as Trieg skipped any formalities and began unbuttoning his pants. In one long, agonizingly slow movement, Trieg rolled down his pants and boxers. His knuckles brushed along Kurt's hips and thighs before leaving him vulnerable and naked under his gaze. He tried to cover himself up, but Trieg grabbed onto his wrists and held them away.

Splayed like a pinned butterfly, he didn't know where to look. Trieg's eyes roaming over his body disgusted him but he didn't dare turn towards Lance. The ceiling was a familiar comfort as it whirled in white. Through his dizziness, one hairline crack at the ceiling's edge swung like a pendulum, for a brief moment giving Kurt a point of concentration to help block Trieg's presence. A soft brush against his ear drew Kurt back. "As I suspected," Trieg whispered. "This will be interesting."

He sat up and traced one last path with his eyes over Kurt's prone body before letting go of one of his wrists. Trieg ran his hand along Kurt's chest and over his hips. Kurt reached out and grabbed his arm, trying to stop him. He couldn't help but whisper a soft plea of "Nicht."

Trieg ignored him, continuing down until he was touching him. In hopelessness, Kurt let his hand fall way as Trieg took him in hand and fondled him, wrapping his hand around his dick and moving from the base to the tip before slowly tracing back. Kurt took shuddering breaths, trying to repress tears as he moved his free hand to cover his face. Trieg snatched at his forearm, squeezing tight in reprimand. "Be good," he ordered as he bought Kurt's arm back down to his side. Kurt tried to turn his face into the couch instead, anything to force away the sight of his violation.

"There's no hiding from this." Trieg gently put his hand against the side of Kurt's face, turning him back. He stroked down his cheek before clutching tightly at his jaw again in a final warning. In unison, he crushed Kurt's other hand that was still trapped above his head by Trieg's left hand. The pain escalated until Kurt let out a small cry.

Satisfied that he now had Kurt's full cooperation, Trieg let go of his jaw before replacing his hand on his dick.

"Now, let's enjoy ourselves." Trieg adjusted his grip on him and set a new pace as he tried to elicit a reaction from Kurt. "After all, for all this time, you've been wanting this. Now I can help you get what you need." Trieg started slow at first, squeezing him at the top of each stroke before picking up the speed.

Kurt felt shame crawl down his throat. The only saving grace was that the mix of the drug, fear, and alcohol prevented any state of arousal. Despite his best resistance, he couldn't stop himself from begging Trieg to stop as a few tears rolled down from the corner of his eyes, past his temples and into his hair. Ignoring his pleas, Trieg continued his measures - trying different speeds and tactics before growing frustrated at the lack of reaction. With a last rub of his finger over the tip, he bent down to dare a lick.

"B-Bitte," Kurt whispered.

Trieg's face transformed to a cutting rage. It, mixed with his lust, swirled in his eyes to a piercing blaze that bore into Kurt until he didn't know if Trieg was going to continue his assault or kill him.

"If you won't have fun, then at least I will." He grabbed Kurt's wrists, fingers wrapped completely around in a hold so tight Kurt could feel the delicate bones grind against each other. He forced Kurt's hands under his shirt, running them up and down his torso. The rhythm of Trieg's labored breathing along with the sweat gathering on his stomach and chest made Kurt want to gag. He knew Trieg was on edge but couldn't help but tug back against the hold.

"At first it was amusing, but I'm tired of you fighting back." Trieg's weight disappeared from the couch giving Kurt a moment to gather himself. With effort, he took long, quivering breaths as he curled into himself, facing the back of the couch. He clenched at his hair, attempting to drive back his tears. He didn't want to lose it in front of Trieg again. He wanted some control even if all he could do was prevent himself from crying. He told himself to not beg again, to not debase himself further with futile words.

The cushion sunk in as Trieg returned. Kurt was pulled up from his protective ball, forced to sit upright. Debilitated from the drug, he had to lean against Trieg as if some simpering invalid.

Trieg picked up his wrists, holding them tightly together before slipping a zip tie over them. He pulled the tie taut, causing Kurt's fur to be uncomfortably pulled as it bit down into his skin. His hands formed a perverse supplication pose, as if in prayer to a merciful saint.

Satisfied at the bindings, Trieg pushed Kurt back to his supine position on the couch before ripping off his own shirt, quickly followed by his own pants and underwear. Trieg stood there in front of the couch, rubbing himself as he salaciously roved his gaze over Kurt's body. The desire to cover his eyes, to cover himself, to find anywhere to hide was overwhelming, but Kurt was afraid of what Trieg might do next if he disobeyed again.

Then Trieg was lowering himself on top of him, pushing Kurt's hands above his head, rubbing himself against his body. He could feel everything - the way Trieg's muscles contracted as he pressed himself down, his erection sliding up and down against his thigh, his hand making its way behind to grope his ass.

"You feel so fucking good." Trieg roughly pulled back Kurt's hair for a deep kiss. He lifted his head back and continued to rock himself up and down Kurt's body. "Like velvet."

Kurt tried to deaden himself inside, to escape to some compartment in his brain, but Trieg kept touching and touching and touching. Trieg reached down and adjusted himself so that his erection was rubbing against Kurt's flaccid state, before trying to arouse him again with his hand.

"I think your boyfriend is enjoying this."

The agony wedged deeper into his heart. He had somehow forgotten they weren't alone. That Lance was there - just a few feet away, witnessing everything Kurt was letting Trieg do. He couldn't help but glance over.

It was hard to focus as the room tilted from his vertigo, but he could tell Lance's face was strained and his eyes pierced through any haze from the drug straight into Kurt's. Kurt wanted to break the stare, wanted to be swallowed whole by the earth, wanted to stop existing, but he couldn't pull his gaze away from the intensity of it. Lance kept mouthing something over and over to him, but everything was swaying and lurching, Kurt couldn't make it out.

A violent hand gripped his jaw, forcing his head back to look at Trieg.

"I am the one you should be paying attention to."

With dagger-like fingers that clawed into his back, Trieg pulled Kurt upright and took a hold of his bound hands. He guided them down and over his erection before encasing Kurt's hands into his own. Tightening his grip, Trieg forced Kurt to start jerking him off. Trieg's panting and grunts of pleasure prickled like thorns, but worse yet was his continuous stare drinking in Kurt's tortured expression - as if more than the physical stimulation, Trieg was aroused by his mental agony. Kurt held desperately onto his promise to himself, barely stifling his tears, refusing to to give Trieg the satisfaction, until finally Trieg lifted Kurt's hands away. With a contorted sense of hope, Kurt willed Trieg to push him back into the cushions, preferring to play a passive role than forced to be a participant.

Instead, Trieg began to force his head down, silently demanding more. Kurt resisted, shaking his head no while using the small amount of strength he had left to push against Trieg.

"I said to fucking listen to me!" Trieg's outburst recoiled around the room.

He pushed Kurt back only to reach over him, grab the gun, and swing it towards Lance. With a last surge of strength, Kurt used his tail to pull against the gun while shoving at Trieg's face with his bound hands. He hadn't much power behind his attack, but it was enough.

The shot went wide. A plan to wrestle the gun away quickly dissipated as the adrenaline rush faded, leaving Kurt to sink against a furious Trieg. Trieg grabbed his arm with such furor Kurt's hand shook from the pressure while Trieg retrained the gun on Lance.

"I'll-..." It was hard to get the words out of his mouth. He had to concentrate to carefully enunciate while condemning himself to agree to Trieg's wishes. "I'll do it. Just please."

A noise of protest came from Lance, but Kurt did his best to ignore it.

Trieg's hold loosened as he looked down at Kurt resting against his shoulder. "Say it again."

Kurt swallowed as he repeated himself. "I'll do it. Bitte."

Trieg paused, but didn't yet lower the gun. "Who is in charge?"

His desperate save had drained so much energy, Kurt had to work past the fog in his brain to formulate his answer. "You are."

"That's right. I'm the one who has control. You'll do as I say. You will listen to me." Trieg pushed Kurt up so he had to stare straight into his eyes. "Now say it."

"You are in… kontrolle. I will do as… du-you… say..." It was too much and he couldn't remember. He felt sick to his stomach and shook his head in hopelessness. "Ich weiß nicht. Ich weiß nicht."

"In English." Trieg shook him by his shoulders, the gun a heavy presence just in his line of sight.

Kurt tried again, leaving behind enunciation to just get through the simple sentence. "I will… do as you say… I will….listen... to you?" Kurt wasn't sure if he got that right, but Trieg eased up on his grip.

"Good. Any more refusals to cooperate and next time, I won't miss." Trieg placed the gun behind him, on the opposite side table. Without any further ado, he grabbed the back of Kurt's head and forced him down.

Feeling disgusted and powerless, Kurt had no choice but to take Trieg into his mouth, trying to be careful with his teeth to avoid another outburst from Trieg. The grip on his hair changed as Trieg controlled his movements to move up and down his shaft, leaving him feeling like a puppet at Trieg's command. Each time Trieg pushed him down, he felt like he was going to gag and throw up, but more than that, knowing he begged to do this and that Lance was watching caused a burning sickness and well of shame that accelerated the corrosion building inside since he drunk that first glass of whiskey.

An upward thrust from Trieg left him so close to retching, his fang grazed over the tip of Trieg's dick. Trieg shuddered in response, before lifting Kurt up.

"Not yet," Trieg mumbled under his breath as he took a steadying breath to regain his control. He brushed his hand repeatedly through Kurt's hair while forcing him to rest his head against his shoulder. "So good. You did so good."

Kurt hated how he couldn't push himself away from Trieg's whispered approval, how the lingering feeling of his dick in his throat felt, how he still tasted the saltiness of the pre-cum. How much he wanted to uncontrollably cry but didn't want to do so in front of Trieg. He wanted to tell Lance to not look at him, to turn away, but he couldn't seem to get the words out. All he could mumble was "don't schauen."

And still it wasn't over yet.

As Trieg continued to pet his hair, he played with the tip of his ear, rubbing it softly between two fingers. "Fascinating." The intimate gesture was revolting.

"Have you enjoyed the show?" Trieg directed to Lance. His laugh traced the curves of Kurt's ear as a hand followed down his spine, fingernails scraping over each vertebrae before grasping along the base of his tail.

He couldn't help but cringe as Trieg possessively stroked along the sensitive area. There was no doubt Trieg was sending Lance a message while simultaneously reducing Kurt to nothing more than an obedient pet.

Kurt didn't know if Lance responded or not to Trieg's question as he was suddenly lifted up off the couch. The room spun at the abrupt movement, leaving Kurt to grab onto the closest steady support. He could hear the rumbling of Trieg's laughter reverberate as Kurt sickeningly realized he was clutching at Trieg's chest.

"Excited for what's next? We'll need more room for what I have planned." The feel of vertigo increased as Trieg carried him across the room. He wanted to wiggle out of Trieg's grasp, but exhaustion overwhelmed him along with the reminder of Trieg's attempt on Lance at Kurt's last resistance.

"You're not invited to this."

Confused, Kurt couldn't make sense of what Trieg meant until he was carried across a threshold where a queen-sized bed awaited. He was gently laid down on top of the messed sheets, a hand stroking over his body once more before trailing away. Everything seemed to slow where from his position he watched Trieg return to the door, grab the handle, and close them in together.

QQQQQQQQQ

Waves crashed over Lance. An anger so hot, he felt his heart would explode out in flames only to be extinguished by a well of helplessness and devastation so deep, he struggled to breath. He wanted to vomit and cry. The strain to remain silent, to just be a witness to everything Trieg did to Kurt was a hurt so deep Trieg might as well have reached inside his chest and crushed his heart.

And the worst of it all was not even his power could save them - not when Trieg first showed up, using a gun to gain compliance from both him and Kurt, and not now, even though he was left alone. He could crush them all to death, which maybe would be a better fate than what Trieg was doing now behind the closed bedroom door. His brain wouldn't stop throwing up images of Trieg touching Kurt, forcing him to..., what he was making him do now.

No. He had to refocus. He had to help Kurt. The only thing earlier that had stopped him from voicing anymore protestations was the desperate need for a plan to escape. He had spotted it earlier. Before tying him to the chair earlier, Trieg had taken his phone and placed it on the counter. There was no way he could reach it, but Trieg hadn't taken Kurt's. Luckily, Kurt's pants had been thrown onto the floor right near his chair.

Lance had let out a breath of desperate relief as he saw the top of the phone peeking out of the pocket. Any concern of its discovery by Trieg was unnecessary as his attention were solely focused on Kurt.

Swallowing back his emotions at that thought, Lance concentrated on executing his plan. Knowing it would be futile to struggle against his bindings again, Lance decided on an alternate approach. He titled himself back and forth causing the chair to rock in place, but it wasn't enough to cause it to tip over.

Lance let out a whine of frustration. If this didn't work, what would Trieg do next when done? Would he really let them go? Doubtful. The gun sat heavily on the side table as a possible answer.

Figuring it was worth the risk, Lance tried once more to knock the chair over, this time employing just a touch of his power as the chair tilted to one side.

He landed near the pants in a soft thud. He held his breath and stared at the bedroom door, but it seemed his commotion went unnoticed. Hope fluttered cautiously in his chest as he prayed that Kurt had voice commands activated.

In a soft whisper, he called out, "Hey, Siri."

No response.

This has to work. He glanced to the door one more time before daring a louder voice, "Hey, Siri."

This time, a small mechanical beep responded back.

Lance almost burst into a tight laugh but pushed it down. First, he needed to get in contact with someone. "Call…" Lance paused a second, wondering whose name he should say. The Professor? But how did Kurt have him in his contacts listed as - Professor X? Prof? Xavier? Instead he settled on, "Logan."

The waiting was tense as the phone rang once, twice, then on the third ring, Logan's gruff voice answered, "Kurt? Everything-"

Lance almost cried at that; the need threaded through his voice. "Logan, I-"

"Lance? Why are you calling? Is everything okay? Where's Kurt?"

"He's… I… fuck, he…" Lance stuttered through his emotions before finally bursting out with, "He's got him, he's got him. Trieg, he-"

"What!" Logan's shout burst through the phone, jolting Lance out of his fugue.

"Shut up! He might hear. He's just in the other room."

"Tell me where you are." While Logan's voice was quieter, his anger punctuated each word into a staccato.

"I-I dunno. I think we're on the east side of the city. I saw a few street signs as we drove by. I know we're by Willow's Edge in some duplex, maybe, but Kurt was knocked out and bleeding and Trieg had a gun. I didn't look close enough." Lance's emotions crept up again, taking over his thoughts. "And now Trieg has him and he made him… because I… he made him…. I… fuck," Lance trailed off into a litany of fucks.

"Lance! I need you to calm down and listen."

"Right." Lance closed his eyes to rein himself in. "Ok."

There was a pause of silence where Lance could barely discern Logan discussing the situation with someone else on the other end.

"The Professor wants you to set off a few small tremors. Just enough to pick you up on Cerebro. Can you do that?" Logan's voice was filled with heavy breathing as he must've been running to the subbasement.

"Yeah, yeah, I can do that."

"Give us a minute before starting."

Before he could help himself, Lance requested, "Please. Don't hang up." He didn't ever want to sound desperate, especially not to Logan of all people, but he just couldn't be alone with his thoughts right now, not when right in the next room...

"I won't."

"And don't bring the others. Kurt wouldn't want them to- to see."

"It'll just be the Professor and me. I promise. Ok, use your power."

Lance complied, letting loose a few small vibrations underneath his upturned chair - enough for him to feel them but upsetting nothing else beyond.

"Got you. We're leaving now. We'll be there as soon as we can."

Relief flooded Lance as help was finally on its way, but it was short-lived. Looking towards the closed, bedroom door, he knew it was already too late.