A/N: Written because there is a disturbing lack of porn in this fandom. Hope this inspires you to write your own. Oh, and warnings: Rape, Language, Drug References.

Norman Jayden was relieved. Smuggling Ethan Mars out of the police station had done wonders for his soul. He knew the man was innocent. Not only did he not fit the profile of the killer, he gave Norman that feeling in his gut that told him he was a good guy. Good guys deserved to have a chance to save their children.

Still, he felt jittery. It was getting late. The sun coming through his office window had dimmed. He slipped on his ARI glasses and started going through the evidence again. Ethan was still in danger as long as the real killer had not been found, and Shaun Mars didn't have much time left.

He didn't hear his door open, but he heard the click of the lock. Annoyed to be taken away from his ARI time, he swept the evidence away and took off his glasses. Carter Blake was leaning against the door, arms crossed. Norman immediately felt angry. He had watched Blake attack Ethan Mars until he couldn't stand and this, compounded by the other things he had seen the man do, immediately had his blood boiling.

"So, looks like our killer escaped." Blake said casually. "Know anything about that, Norman?" Jayden stared at him, careful that his face didn't betray anything. He tried to look surprised.

"No idea. When did it happen?"

"Not long after I was done with him. The camera was off." The cop pushed away from the door and stared at the FBI profiler, his arms still crossed over his chest. "Why do I get the feeling you had something to do with this?" Norman leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair.

"You would assume that, wouldn't you, Blake?" He tried not to sound as annoyed as he was, but right now he just wanted to get rid of the other man as soon as possible. So Carter suspected him. Big deal. He didn't care what Carter thought. Once this case was taken care of he would head back to Washington and forget that the other man even existed.

"I wasn't the one putting on the bleeding heart act in there. 'Oh, Ethan, I think you're innocent!' I bet the bastard got a sick thrill out of that one. Thought he could get away with all of it. We'll find him again." Norman drummed his fingers against his desk, staring at Blake.

"You know as well as I do that Ethan Mars isn't the Origami--"

"-So you admit that you let him go." Blake interjected. He rolled his eyes toward the ceiling and shook his head. "Honestly, Norm, I think this FBI thing is going to your head. I think you need to be taken down a couple of notches." Norman flinched at the way Blake said his name. He stood up, careful not to shove the chair away from himself too violently.

"Listen, Lieutenant, I don't agree with your methods. You're aware of that. We don't have time for this right now. It's late. We should be leaving." He slipped his ARI glasses into his pocket and made to head toward the door, but Carter stepped back in front of it. Norman felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. "Get out of the way." He said. Carter didn't budge.

"That punch you gave me back there hurt pretty bad. I didn't know you had it in you."

"Get out of my way or you'll be getting another one." His fight or flight response was kicking in. It was late. The office was probably mostly cleared out. They were alone. He prided himself on remaining calm and cool in difficult circumstances, but right now he had no patience for this man.

"Make me. Go ahead. Take another swing at me, FBI man." Jayden wanted to do just that, but he wouldn't allow himself to be goaded.

"This is stupid. Some kind of pissing match? Grow up."

Then the first punch came. It came as such a surprise that Norman cried out as his head was whipped violently to the side. He tasted blood and for a moment he thought his jaw had been broken. He moved it experimentally and was relieved that it only ached. Anger threatened to consume him. Carter was smiling, the bastard.

He wanted to wipe that smile off his face. In the heat of the moment he did something that he knew was idiotic, that he knew would only make things worse. He spat in the other man's face. A rosette of blood smeared Blake's cheek and his smiling expression immediately changed to one of fury.

"Is that all you wanted to do?! Can I go now?!" Norman asked angrily, and when the other man still wouldn't move away from the door he took a swing at him. If he could stun him even for a moment he could slip around him and out the door, where there were other people. Hopefully. Maybe Blake knew something that he didn't.

His hand was caught by Carter's hand and he tried to wrench it away, but the cop yanked on it and pulled it behind his back. Norman barely had time to react when he was shoved forward and his knees hit against the desk. He fell forward and was just in time to put his other hand against the surface before his face met it. Dust flew everywhere and he coughed slightly. He tried to pull himself back up but the weight against his back stopped him.

"What the fuck are you doing?!"

"What's the saying, Jayden? You made your bed, now you have to lie in it?" Carter's voice was cold and strangely guarded. Norman tried to tug the hand behind his back free but Blake had a good grip on his wrist now. He was pressed so hard against the desk it was difficult to breathe.

"So what are you gonna do, kill me? They'd have your badge for that."

"No, but you'll wish I had." Norman groaned. Blake was going to rough him up for sure. That was fine. He had been through worse. He would take the beating if it meant getting this psychopath off the force.

Then he felt a hand on his belt and he tensed. The room suddenly seemed incredibly quiet. He felt Blake remove the gun from his holster and imagined that he had checked the safety before kicking it across the room and, from the sound of it, into the corner. Then the hand was back on his belt, at the buckle this time. Norman's heart sped up.

'No… he wouldn't…'

But that hand… it was undoing his buckle now. He wriggled, trying to get away, and was met with a clout to the back of the head. For a few wonderful seconds the world faded, then he was snapped back into sharp reality again. He spoke, struggling to keep his voice calm.

"Blake… I don't know what you're planning, but stop right now and I won't say anything… We can just both go home and forget all about this."

"Shut up, Jayden. I'm sick of your psychological crap." The buckle was undone and without even undoing his zipper Carter yanked his pants down. Norman winced, feeling the sharp zipper then cold air. "You're about to learn that your little theories don't work as well as you think they do."

"This is fucking insane!" Norman could feel his face heating up from both anger and shame. He yanked on his arm again. "Let me go!" He felt an unpleasant twinge in his stomach, then noticed that the hand against his desk was beginning to shake. 'Not now. Not now.' He took deep breaths and closed his eyes. 'Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.'

"Aw, what's wrong? You sound scared. I thought you FBI stiffs were supposed to be tough."

'When I get loose I'm going to kill you.' Came a cold thought deep in Jayden's mind. 'Self defense.' His arm ached and Blake's grip on his wrist seemed to be cutting off the circulation. He heard the sound of a zipper and tried once again to slow his breathing. He had never imagined, never dreamed that something like this could happen to him. He had seen a lot, had come near death, but this… Thank God he had been able to hold back his withdrawal symptoms. Who knew how Blake would respond to that.

He thought hard. He could turn his body partially, maybe shove the cop off, but Blake was pushing down hard on him and he wouldn't be able to do much with his left arm smashed against the desk. Also, if he turned, he would be able to see Blake, and that was the last thing he wanted. He could try to kick, but his pants were pooled around his ankles. No luck there. He let the reality of his situation sink in. There was no getting out of this. His left hand began to tremble again and he balled it into a fist.

"Hope you're ready, Norm." Carter said and Norman could just hear the smirk in that voice. It made him feel sick. He could feel the cold sweat coming on now. The world around him seemed to be blurring. For once, he welcomed it. He could feel Blake shifting behind him.

Then pain… Searing pain unlike anything he had ever felt. It wasn't all the way in though, was it? He couldn't tell. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood and let his forehead fall against the desk. He tensed, let out a shuddering breath. Behind him, Carter swore.

"Goddammit!" The searing pain left for a moment and was replaced by a dull ache. Norman tried to slow his breathing. He had expected it to hurt, but not that way. Not like he was being burned from inside. He heard Carter spit and for a moment the grip on his right arm loosened. Norman took the opportunity to try to yank his wrist free but Blake noticed and gripped harder, his fingers digging into the flesh. "Don't even try it. I'll get my gun out if I have to." Norman let his body go limp. He focused on the cool desk and the coppery taste of blood in his mouth.

Without warning this time, Carter thrust hard. It was in all the way this time, no doubt about that.

"Fuck!" Norman cried as he banged his fist against the desk. He was being invaded; his body, his mind, his pride. He hadn't wanted to scream. He heard Blake make a sharp intake of breath. The other man was now leaning over him and he could feel the vibrations and… oh God… his breath against the nape of his neck. He kept his forehead down, fought to slow his breathing and his panicked heartbeat. Blake was beginning to move now. He slowly pulled back and for a moment Norman thought that he had reconsidered, then he plunged back inside. The pain was slightly less this time, but still it was too much. "Just… stop…"

"You're gonna have to do a better job than that."

"Say… goodbye… to your badge, asshole…" Norman was being fucked in earnest now and he winced when a ripple of something not entirely unpleasant washed over him. He would not enjoy this in any way. He would never let Carter have that satisfaction.

"I'm not going to lose my badge because you're not gonna tell anyone. Think I haven't figured you out?" A sharp thrust. Norman could feel the cold sweats coming over him again, and the impending pounding headache. It was coming. Soon, he would be beyond the breaking point. His eyes shifted over to his coat hanging over the desk chair. He had forgotten about it. There was a vial of Tripto in the pocket.

'Not in front of Blake.' His arm was going to sleep, crushed between his body and Carter's. His other hand was balled into a fist so tight the knuckles were turning white… or was he just going pale? Suddenly it felt as if his nose was running and a soft patter of blood fell to the desk. His whole body was aching now, not just from the invasion Carter was making. He thought he could smell leaves and feel a soft breeze. 'Not now. NOT NOW!' He tried to close his eyes, but before he could he saw reality fade around him, and he saw the trees, heard the leaves blowing, saw the sky. So orange. Without even thinking he reached for the pocket of his coat, all attempts to hide it from Carter fading as reality had. He felt the cool glass of the vial and his panicked heartbeat slowed. Soon, peaceful oblivion. No more Blake. No more pain.

He pulled the vial out. He would snort it fast. Carter wouldn't even have time to notice.

Then Blake's hand, which had been holding his hip in a death grip, was over his.

"What's this?" The cop sounded amused. "Why are you shaking? Is this some kind of drug?" His voice sounded far away. Norman grit his teeth, tried to pull it away, but his hold was weak. Their mini-struggle sent the vial skidding across the desk, just out of reach. "Knew you were missing some brain cells, but goddamn. Drugs?" A brief pause, a chuckle, and the cop was back at it. Norman could hear a whining noise. He prayed to God that it wasn't him making it, but how could he be sure of anything right now?

What was real? Being taken by force by a person he hated in his own shitty office, or the trees? The pain was certainly real. His ass hurt like hell, but he would get over it. His head hurt worse. Was that Carter's breath against his neck again, or the breeze? That slapping noise… 'No.' He blocked it out.

Then Blake's hand crept into a place it had no business going to. Jayden tensed up and for a moment the true reality flashed before his eyes. He could see everything so clearly. He could see the dust floating around in the fading sunlight. Blake's hand was… stroking him. 'Damn you.' He let his mind go somewhere else. He thought of death, of blood, of the horrors of what one person could do to another. He thought of anything but that calloused hand on his cock. It was working. He could almost have laughed if he wasn't struggling just to breathe.

"What's wrong? I thought you'd be into this sort of thing…" Blake chided.

"…Fuck you." Using the last of his strength, Norman tried to buck Blake off of himself. This only resulted in a yank on the arm around his back so hard it nearly broke. Thankfully, the hand on his cock was gone now, back on his hip. The leaves were back. Norman gave up and hoped that it would be over soon. Let Carter have his sick satisfaction. As soon as he left the room Norman would be so fucking high he could forget it.

It took much longer than he had expected, in fact, it seemed to go on forever. He hated the sounds he was making. The shuddering sighs he didn't mind, that was to be expected, but those little moans… he wanted to tell Carter that it wasn't him that he wanted, but the vial across the desk. He wanted that more than anything. At one point Carter yanked his head back by the hair and nipped his neck. Norman hoped it wouldn't leave a mark. That would be hard to explain. His arm was so numb now that pins and needles were racing up and down it. The pain from behind was minimal at this point in comparison to the pain in the rest of his body. Tripto could make it all go away. The thrusts were getting harder, no longer rhythmic.

"Uhn… Shit…" Blake panted, and his grip on Norman's hip became hard enough to bruise. The FBI agent could feel him shiver, feel him softening inside. He wanted to puke. It was over, yes, but the thought of what had just transpired between himself and the person he was supposed to be working with filled him with dark thoughts. "Damn, Norm. If I had known you were so tight…"

"Shut up." Norman growled. Blake chuckled.

"Knew you'd say that. Anyway, guess I'll head out now and find your little buddy, Ethan." He let go of the arm and Norman wanted so desperately to hit him, but it was obvious that he lacked the strength. He was far too strung out. The desk was the only thing holding him up. He heard Carter's belt jingle. "Oh yeah… I'll just be taking this." The other man walked over to the side of the desk and grabbed the vial of Triptocaine, slipping it into his pants pocket. Around him, leaves were blowing wildly. A storm was coming.

"I fucking hate you." Norman spat, but Blake grinned, patted him on the cheek, and made to leave the room.

"If you want it back, you know how to get it!" He called as he left. Norman banged his head against the desk several times. The faintness was coming over him now. He welcomed it. He shifted and managed only to fall onto the floor beside his desk. Was it the floor or the grass? Weakly, absently, he pulled his pants up. If he was going to pass out, he would at least have his dignity if someone were to walk in.

He thought of Ethan Mars. If he hadn't helped him escape, could Ethan have gone through what he had just suffered? The man had already suffered enough. Surely Blake's depravity didn't normally extend beyond beating suspects. He felt his shirt pocket, where his ARI glasses were. He wondered if they had been shattered by the weight put on them. He pulled them out. They were fine. Relief washed over him.

When he woke up, 'IF' his mind insisted, he would look over the evidence again. He wasn't worried about the vial Blake had taken. He had more Tripto in the hotel room. For now, he would welcome the darkness. He counted. '1, 2, 3, 4...' He was just mouthing '5' when he fainted.