Warning: Rape, dub/con.

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Tonight should've never had happened.

Douglas has never been one for peer pressure, choosing to scoff at it with a certain air of disdain. So when Captain Jefferies kept offering him, pressuring him to drink, Douglas should've turned him down. Make an excuse and leave the pub.

Simple. Easy.

But the problem was Douglas didn't want to go home. There was nothing there, not even a pet to take care of. There were houseplants, though many of them died long ago.

So Douglas stayed at the pub, watching Jeffries drink and drink and drink. And with each new round, Jeffries shoved a full glass towards him, insisting him. Douglas wasn't sure when he broke, but he did, and took a swing of that liquid gold for the first time in years.

It was heaven.

Jefferies, finally able to get Douglas to break down, kept refilling his glass over and over. Douglas wasn't sure how many he had. He just knew his glass was never empty.

At some point, a familiar voice snagged his attention. "Douglas! I thought you didn't drink!"

"Martin!" Douglas said, surprised pronunciation had yet to leave him. "What are you doing here?"

"Captain Jefferies called," Martin said, frowning disapprovingly. "Said I should take you home."

Douglas pouted. He turned away. "Don't wanna."

"Well, too bad," Martin turned Douglas around rather forcefully, pulling him to his feet. Surprised by the move, Douglas stumbled a bit. Martin caught his arm, draping it over his own shoulders. "I refuse to allow my First Officer embarrass himself in public like this."

Douglas gave a short protest, but allowed himself to be man-handled right out of the pub. Martin groaned a little under the man's weight, shifted his footing and kept walking. "Wow," Douglas said surprised. "You're strong."

"I move furniture, remember?" Martin grunted. They got to his van and with one hand, Martin pulled opened the passenger door. Douglas climbed in with little problem. When he refused to put on his seat belt, Martin gave a huff, leaned over and clipped him in.

Douglas caught a whiff of Martin's hair. Basic, cheap shampoo. Smelled bitter. Just like Martin, Douglas grinned to himself.

The ride to his house was a quiet one. Douglas couldn't be arsed to think of a conversation topic and Martin seemed content to drive. There was a little grin on Martin's face though, and it set Douglas' suspicions on high. The young man was probably enjoying this a little too much.

Martin parked in front of Douglas' house. "Do you need help inside?"

Douglas was about to say no, but then thought about all those steps he would have to walk up to. He thought about the quietness, the darkness and how much he hated it.

He nodded.

Just as a joke to see how strong Martin really was, Douglas kept stumbling intentionally. It was hilarious to watch the younger man strain and grunt and sweat under the weight.

By the time they reached the upstairs bedroom, Martin was exhausted. Douglas could feel him trembling with each step.

Martin gave a thankful groan as he lowered Douglas onto the bed. He switched on the lamp sitting on the night table. Despite his exhaustion, Martin leaned down to untie Douglas' shoes and pulled them off.

The smell has changed. Suddenly Martin didn't smell like the one pound shampoo. He smelled like musk and something so very sweet- lotion, Douglas realized. Even the most cheapest of lotions had a smell to it and Martin had chosen something flowery.

"Okay," Martin groaned lightly as he stood back up. "I guess I'll see you in the morning."

Douglas reached out and grasped Martin's wrist.

The young man paused. "Is there something else you need?"

Douglas pressed his thumb against Martin's pulse, silently counting the heartbeats.

"Douglas, I'm tired," Martin pulled his arm away. "If there's nothing else, I'm going home."

He turned to leave.

The image of Martin's back was suddenly too much. Douglas didn't want him to leave, didn't want to be alone when Martin was already here, warm, and solid, and thick.

Douglas surged to his feet, grabbed Martin by the arm, twirled him around. Douglas meant to push him onto the bed, but the twirling went in a different direction and instead, slammed Martin against the wall, next to the night stand.

"Douglas, what-"

Douglas kissed him. He held Martin's face in his hands as he let his tongue slip inside Martin's mouth, tasting him and teasing him.

Martin jerked his face away, pushing Douglas' heavy frame with a weak shove. "Stop! What the hell are you doing?"

What do you think? Douglas wanted to say. He grasped Martin's chin, forcing his head back up and began kissing him again, a little more enthusiastic this time so he could get the point.

Martin bit him.

Not enough to break skin, just enough to cause pain and Douglas reared his head back, grunting.

"This isn't funny," Martin hissed, still trying to shove Douglas away. "Back off! Back-"

Douglas didn't want to be bit again. He grabbed Martin's shoulders, turned him around sharply, and pressed him against the wall. Douglas moved in, using his own chest against Martin's back to hold him there, and began giving Martin's neck sloppy, opened mouth kisses.

It was then Martin panicked. His hands flailed, trying to push Douglas off, push himself off the wall. But Douglas was taller, heavier, thrumming with adrenaline while Martin was tired. It was so damn easy to grab Martin's hands, push them together into his own chest, before Douglas used his weight to keep Martin's arms sandwiched between his own chest and the wall.

Just to be extra cautious, Douglas used his own arm to keep them there, too.

"Douglas! Stop, please!"

Oh, but Douglas can't stop. Not when he's so high on pleasure at the moment. He took a long sniff of Martin's hair, finding sweat had overcome the smell of the cheap shampoo. It smelled divine.

Douglas' hand snaked forward, grabbing at Martin's crotch. Unfortunately the younger man was wearing rather thick trousers and Douglas could not feel as much as he wished he could. That decision made, he popped the button and pulled down the zipper.

"Please! Please, don't do this!"

There was a moment where Martin tried to buck him off by using his hips, but the movement only allowed for Douglas to pull down the trousers easier. They were barely past Martin's hips, but enough to give Douglas' hand the room to maneuver.

Oh yes, Douglas sighed into the young man's hair as he found Martin's limp cock. He's always wondered what sort of noises his captain made when aroused. Too often Douglas heard Martin squeak in pain or indignity. Can he do more than squeak?

As far as Douglas could tell, Martin didn't masturbate. The man did live in a house full of college kids and spent most of his time either on GERTIE or driving around in that van of his. He probably didn't have the time.

It didn't take much stimulation to get him hard. At this point, Martin stopped trying to fight, stopped voicing his protests. Instead, he bowed his head, and cried silently.

Douglas didn't like that. Such a mood killer.

Douglas took this moment to use his finger and rubbed it over and over and over Martin's slit. He kept going at it until Martin gave out a short cry, bucking into Douglas' hand.

Perfect. Douglas quickly undid his own trousers and pulled out his erection. He brought up his hand to spit in it, pausing suddenly when he remembered the lube he kept in the nightstand drawer.

Since his divorce, Douglas only used the lube less than a handful of times. It was practically brand new, would have checked the expiration date to make sure, but seriously doubted he could read at this point.

He popped the top off, and drizzled it over himself. Once done, he leaned forward.

Martin jerked when the slightly-cold lubrication was poured on him. He wiggled back to avoid it, accidentally coming into contact with Douglas' wet prick.

He tried to jump back forward, but by then Douglas was done with preparation. He snaked a hand back onto Martin's dick, then pressed himself against Martin's backside.

The contact of Douglas' prick with Martin's warm buttocks was glorious. He had to bend his knees to get in better contact, reveling the way the lubricant made everything so nice and slippery.

Martin's own erection had faltered at this point, which Douglas quickly corrected with a few quick strokes.

This time, no more teasing. He jerked Martin fast, almost roughly, enjoying the feel of the minute shivers each pump brought.

Despite the previous teasing, Martin was unusually quiet during the whole procedure, making it more surprising when he finally orgasm. Douglas had no warning, no sudden intake of air or large shudder. Just a sudden rush of warm semen over his hand. It was almost disappointing.

Bracing a hand on Martin's hip, fingers digging in, Douglas rubbed himself to completion. He had no problem groaning his own pleasure into the crook of Martin's ear.

He pulled back then, releasing Martin's arms.

The young captain didn't run out. He slowly opened his arms out from their squashed position, almost hissing as he stretched them. He flattened his palms against the wall, keeping his head bowed, breathing harshly.

"Why did you do that?" He asked.

Because you needed to get laid, Douglas thought as he fell backwards on his bed. From the horrid look on Martin's face, Douglas realized he said that out loud.

"Well, it's true," he hissed, draping his arm over his eyes. He was tired. He needed sleep.