dagger-n-ravvi

[dagger-n-ravvi]

Chapter 17: Good Ending Part Two: Stay With Me

Second half of the good ending, and the last chapter! Hope you enjoy ^_^

No warnings in this chapter

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A03 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49350448?view_full_work=true

Trey’s alarm beeps right on time… against Cater’s left leg. Cater blinks owlishly at it, taking far too long to realize that it’s coming from Trey’s pants pocket. He yawns and stretches his arms. His shirt is hiked up around his armpits and his pants are unzipped, but they are disappointingly still on his very un-sexed body. Oops~ Guess they hadn’t gotten very far last night.

"Hmmm...? Huh- OH!" Trey gasps, eyes widening as he looks around the guest room. He stares down at Cater for a moment, cheekbones flushing bright pink. Cater looks up at him with an awkward, and very silly grin…

"We fell asleep without brushing our teeth!" Trey gasps, then rolls out of bed in a panic.

“Nnnghhhhhh…” Cater groans in protest as Trey escapes the bed and hurries off. Noooooo, he was so cozy…

"Cater! We need to get ready! Up and at 'em!" Trey calls from the bathroom. Cater can hear him brushing his teeth twice in quick succession before hurrying out into the kitchen. "Cater! Breakfast!"

Cater rubs his face with both hands and rolls out of bed, stumbling over to his suitcase without opening his eyes. He opens it up, then pokes through the contents for clothes and bathroom stuff. As he does, his fingers brush across a swath of silky, black fabric. His face flushes in shame, and he shoves it down deeper inside before pulling out a nice pair of jeans and a colourful t-shirt that should pair well with an apron.

“I’m up!” He hugs his clothes and toiletries to his chest as he peeks into the bathroom. “Do you need the shower? Imma rinse off.”

"I'll take one later! I… um. I hope you slept well." Trey calls. His back is facing Cater, but his voice is suddenly adorably awkward and hesitant. Awwww~

“Not too bad!” Cater calls back, turning on the shower. “Uh… sorry if I was too forward. Last night. I know you were super tired.”

He winces good-naturedly at his own awkwardness, then steps into the shower with a little sigh. Yeah, it will definitely be too awkward to jerk off in here after last night, even if he did have more time. He washes quickly, using the soap out of his traveling kit and rinsing off before the water can even fully warm up. He rubs his eyes again, then shuts the water off and runs a towel over his arms and legs. He eyes all the toothbrushes on the counter, then snickers a little and pulls out his own, giving his teeth a quick once-over more for Trey’s sake than his own.

“Ahhhhhhh…” He steps out of the bathroom, straightening his shirt and putting on his cute face. “Ooh, breakfast! Please tell me you still drink coffee and haven’t switched to maté.”

"Mah-tay? What's that?" Trey asks, taking a pair of medium cooked eggs and bacon out of the pan. 

“Maté is like. This trendy morning caffeine brew that’s kinda like tea, but you’re supposed to drink it out of a gourd and with this little straw to keep the gross leafy bits out. Ugh! Too much hassle,” Cater takes his plate and sits at the table.

"Huh... that's interesting. I wonder if it's one of those trends that were part of a tradition. And then it came into full swing because someone famous showcased it..." Trey ponders, slipping a piece of buttered, sourdough toast onto his plate.

“Oh totes. It was a thing that native tribes in the jungle between the Sunset Savanna and the Scalding Sands did FOREVER. It got picked up and was ultra cammable for a hot minute, and then cultural appropriation backlash like CRAZY. I kinda stayed out of it,” Cater fiddles with a lock of hair behind his ear. He nibbles the eggs lightly at first, just to be polite, then stares down at his plate, eyes widening in surprise. 

“Treyyyyyyy, I don’t even normally EAT breakfast. How do you make it taste so good?” He takes another bite, and gives Trey a teasing pout. 

"The eggs? Ah... Those would be chives, salt, and pepper. And I make sure I get good quality eggs from the local farmers, and the bacon directly from the butcher. He always gives me a good price. Chives are from the window box." He points out the herbs growing in his kitchen window. 

“Dang Trey, you got a whole local ecosystem! Living the dream. Ha ha, I knew a ‘cammer who was trying to do what you’re doing but like. Documented EVERYTHING. Kept getting hate for using plastic baggies and driving a car.” Cater shakes his head with a low chuckle. “Not ‘authentic.’ Such BS…”

Why did he bring that up? He doesn’t want to think about all that. He picks up his coffee cup and takes a long drink, inhaling deeply. Trey even uses decent coffee, the beautiful bastard…

"I don't think I could live like that, documenting everything. I wouldn't know where my life began, and where the... I suppose the entertainment would end? I imagine it's not easy... how are you holding up on it all?" Trey asks, tone laced with a hint of hesitant concern. "I think you said you were taking a break? Or am I making things up?" 

“I think I mentioned it,” Cater agrees. “And it’s been nice. It started kinda getting to me in a bad way. You know? Like… I still LOVE photography but the rest of it all was…” 

Ugh, why is he even talking about this? He makes a vague gesture and takes another drink, half hoping that Trey will change the subject. 

“It wasn’t making you happy like it used to?” Trey asks, watching him closely. “I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen you without your phone.” 

“You know? I’m not sure it was ever making me happy.” Cater can hear that his own voice has taken on an odd, hollow quality, but he can’t bring himself to hide it. He stares at the wall just past Trey’s shoulder, feeling disconnected and strangely fragile. “Sure. Feels good when a pic gets likes, especially when you pulled out all the stops and got the right filter, the best shot, light’s just perfect. You know you captured something gorgeous and a whole bunch of other people agree?”

He laughs softly, then holds out his thumbs and index fingers to frame Trey’s face between his hands. “Pure happy vibes. But when you know you did a good job and people just don’t care, because you didn’t hit the trend, or you couldn’t quite get scooped up by the algorithm? Watching something you put love into just get ignored. It’s just…”

He drops his hands and wraps them around his cup again, smile shrinking and gaze dropping to the tabletop.

“…exhausting.”

“… Well you don’t have to worry about that here.”

Cater starts a little as Trey reaches across the table and covers the back of his hand with his own. “You don’t need to do anything special to get my attention. You already got it,” he continues in a tone that would be cheesy if it wasn’t so damn genuine and real. “The only thing that should exhaust us is the end of the day.” 

“Awwww~” Cater turns his hand over and gives Trey’s a fond little squeeze. “Exhausts us? Againnnnn~?” 

“Uh…” Trey blushes hard and Cater gives him a sly grin.

“You massive tease. If you work me to exhaustion, I swear I will sleep-walk into your bed. You watch.” 

"Oh? Thanks for the warning. I won't be surprised to see you there." Trey smirks. "I really liked last night, I could get used to sleeping next to you. Cater... I... want to pursue this, if... if that is something you want to do?" 

He looks all uncertain and adorable again, and Cater’s heart just wants to flutter out of his chest in a cloud of happy heart emojis. Then Trey’s face goes all alarmed and he starts stammering and backtracking. "No pressure! I mean… Nothing changes… i-if you don't want to..."

“Youuuuuuu~” Cater leans forward across the table and kisses him with a long, happy sigh. “Ha ha, you’re always so… so you . Yeah, you big dummy, I wanna pursue this.” 

Sheesh, he hopes that he hadn’t given him the impression that he DIDN’T want to pursue this after trying to undress him last night. Cater leans forward and kisses him again, slower this time. His heart soars as Trey reciprocates, tongue lightly tracing his own. He tastes like sugar and coffee, and for the first time in a while, Cater doesn’t mind the sweetness. 

“Mmmm…” Cater regretfully breaks the kiss after a wonderfully timeless moment. “I thought we had to go bake sweeties soon~ Are you calling a day off?”

Trey gasps, then pulls away and looks down at the time on his phone. "Oh Seven, we’re late. Pick this back up tonight?”

“Okayyyy~” Cater giggles and downs the last of his coffee. “Rain check~”

‘Damn you Chenya...' Trey groans, realizing that his friend was correct, as always. Does he have to invest in condoms now? What part of the store are those even sold in…?

Either way, shopping will have to wait. The morning is packed full of work, and passes in a blur of activity. Cater is fantastic help, and in the best possible way, he’s also distracting. Teasing little glances whenever Trey asks him to pass kitchen utensils. Flirty touches whenever he has to squeeze past him to get to a different part of the kitchen. He stays on task, and they’re done before it's time to open up for the morning, but his very presence seems to carry a not-so-subtle promise.

We didn’t get to finish what we started last night~

Trey feels invigorated, moving happily through the prep and decorating with renewed focus. It’s such a shame that Cater doesn’t like sweets, because that means nothing he’s making will appeal to him. Maybe he should add something savory to his offerings. Soft pretzels maybe?

"Oh!" Trey straightens up with a blushy grin when he feels a pinch on the fold where his thigh meets his backside. "Ha ha, you’re so motivated this morning."

“Rainbow thingies~” Cater hands him the box of sprinkles he’d asked for. “I don’t think I slept that good in like, months. Ooh, those are pretty. Did you do them like the Teacup Trials on purpose?”

He points to the cupcakes that Trey has been busily decorating.

"Teacup…? Uh, no. They’re actually a really old idea of mine. Ever since staying in Heartslabyul, I thought a pack of cupcakes would be amazing if I made them with tea cake, and then shaped the base to look like a teacup. I even flavored the cakes to make them taste like the better-known teas. Earl Grey, lemon, black tea and chai…” He points them each out in turn. “I'm thinking of adding green tea to the list too." 

Trey picks up his phone and shows Cater a few pictures of the tea sets that inspired his special cupcakes. "The biggest question was how to make the 'teacup' edible. I went through trial and error with that one, but the answer in the end was surprisingly simple! Waffle cones. You can bake them with the cake batter, and it acts like an edible wrapper. I have never heard of the teacup trials though. What is that?"

"HA! I keep forgetting you're kinda living under a rock here..." Cater takes out his own phone and taps through a few screens before turning it around to show him. It's a basic image search - not Magicam, but it's clear from the glittery filters and cutesy influencer poses that most of these were taken for Magicam. About half of them depict fancy, Queendom of Roses-style tea sets, with platters of cupcakes that look strikingly similar to the ones that Trey is currently making. The other half show the influencers throwing the tea sets and the cupcakes across the room to break and smash them.

"So there was this popular band called The Teacups that got charged with all these stupid crimes after attending a worker's protest last summer-ish. Pretty nonsense, and the charges got dropped, but it turned into a whole thing," Cater snickers. "They released an album a month ago called The Teacup Trials, which kinda sparked everything off again. It'll probably die down in a week or so."

“Ohhhhh. That’s why the cupcakes took off. I’ve been selling these for a month now. They always did ok, but yesterday they literally flew off the shelves.” Trey adjusts his glasses, looking over the pictures that Cater is showing him. “Hmm… I guess I should keep an eye on these kinds of things, but I made these because I loved the idea. Not because I thought they’d be popular.”

"Ha! Yeah, I bet. Just hope people are like. Eating them and not throwing them at a wall somewhere," Cater snickers, tucking his phone away. 

"Meh,” Trey shrugs. “It's not my place to tell them what to do with their food. I hate waste, but they're the ones who paid for it. These are NOT cheap.”

“I guess so,” Cater shakes his head.

The workday passes quickly and smoothly. Cater is amazing with customers, and even though Trey quickly runs out of cupcakes again, he's able to bake a second, and then a third round while he handles the front. It seems like no time at all has passed by the time the flood of customers thins out to a trickle, and it's finally time for lunch. Trey flips the open sign to ‘closed,’ then wipes the sweat off his brow.

"Wooo... that was so much smoother than yesterday. You’re amazing, Cater." 

“Awwww, you’re welcome!” Cater calls from the back. Trey walks toward him, rubbing a crick in his neck with a little grimace. He’s been baking nonstop for hours.

“My back is killing me,” he mumbles, bending down for a moment to loosen himself up.

"Well then sit down, silly. Sheesh, no wonder Chen-Chen said you were working yourself to death." Cater pulls out a chair and all but pushes it under his butt.

“I’m not working myself to death,” he sighs, sitting down in the chair.

“Uh huh?” Cater asks drily. He starts to rub Trey’s shoulders, pressing the pad of his thumb along the edge of the triangle just below his neck. “You baked how many fancy cupcakes today?”

“Mnnnnnn…” Trey sighs, closing his eyes in relieved delight. “I… hmmm… I think… twelve dozen? Lots…”

"Mmmm-hmm?" Trey feels Cater’s fingers slip under the collar of his shirt. They pause for a moment, and then Cater leans forward and presses a light, teasing kiss to the crook of his neck. And then another…

“Cater…” Trey groans, tilting his head to the side. “You're gonna… get me riled up if you keep doing that.”

"Riled up?" Another little kiss, and Cater's fingers slip teasingly down the center of his back in a slow, tingling stroke. "Oh noooo, not that~"

“Hmm~” Trey smiles, rolling his shoulders back. “I mean it… keep it up and we might miss lunch.” 

"Sounds like I'll just have to treat you later then~" Cater gently kisses his cheek, making Trey half-close one eye and smile. "To make up for it..."

He leans forward and tilts his chin to kiss the corner of Trey's mouth again, lingering there with a long, eager sigh. Trey turns toward him, meeting his lips and deepening the kiss. He loves the taste of coffee on Cater's tongue. "Hmmm~ I'll hold you to it." 

“Will you~?”

“Mmm-hmm~” Trey lets Cater tilt his head up, and can’t help looking up at Cater's face for a beautiful, little moment. "You look wonderful," he murmurs. 

There's an odd expression that flickers over Cater's face at that, but he quickly hides it with another kiss. "You look wonderful yourself. This bakery stuff all suits you so well."

Cater circles around in front of him to press a kiss more firmly against his lips, lightly tracing the crease where they meet with his tongue. Trey tips his face up to meet him with a little frown, wondering why that wouldn’t make Cater happy. Does he not believe him? 

“C’mere~” Trey settles his hands around Cater’s waist, tugging him closer. Cater is all too happy to be pulled into his lap. He moans softly and his kisses get a little more hurried and needy, fingertips starting to stray down Trey's sides.

"Haahhhh... ha ha. Are you sure we're ok back here?" Cater nuzzles his face into the side of his neck with a longing whimper. "Don't wanna... make things weird for you..."

“Back… here…? Uh… upstairs.” Trey pants lightly. Impulsively, he scoops his arms beneath Cater’s back and legs, picking him up with relative ease despite his aches. “C’mon…”

“Ah!” Cater squeaks and giggles. “Wait, I thought you were tired!”

“Not that tired.” Trey kisses Cater again, and starts carrying his (boyfriend??) up to his apartment. He stops at the door, then awkwardly tries to rattle it open with his fingertips. It stubbornly stays closed.

“Uuuh… help?” He asks sheepishly.

“Mmmm,” Cater giggles, then reaches out and opens the door for them. “My hero. Are you gonna carry me all the way up the stairs too?”

"Maybe~" Trey snickers. "Paint the Roses." 

“EEEEEEEEEE!” Cater jolts as the spell takes effect and clings tightly to Trey’s neck. “OH, that’s so weird. Did you make me LIGHTER?!”

"Yep!” Trey easily walks with him through the little back area and up the narrow stairs up to his apartment. “You’re about the same weight as a rubber ball now.” 

“AIEEEEE?!” Cater squeals again as Trey casually switches his hold on him from a bridal carry to an over-the-shoulder one, like he’s kidnapping a princess. It has the added benefit of freeing up one of his hands so that he can open the door to his apartment.

“Doing ok up there?” Trey pats his lower back with one hand.

“Oh my god, this is SO weird,” Cater wiggles around on his shoulder with a fit of giggles. “I feel like I could jump all the way to the roof! Ehh-!” 

His body jolts a little as he gives a hop on Trey’s shoulder, and then he squeals and clings more tightly to his shirt, giggling his head off. “WAIT-! Does it work on ALL the me-s? WE MUST FIND OUT FOR SCIENCE. ’Split Card!’”

His entire body vibrates against Trey’s shoulder, and then a Cater clone hops to the floor in front of Trey with a hopeful jump. Trey laughs as he only manages to get about a foot into the air, about the same as what Cater is normally capable of.

"No, it’s only you,” Trey closes the door behind them and gives Cater a little squeeze. “I'd have to cast it again to affect all your clones.”

“Awwwwww~” The extra Cater disappears and the one on his shoulder teasingly kicks his feet, more testing out his newfound lightness than protesting or trying to escape. “Do I get to stay like a balloon all afternoon~?”

“Only if I keep re-casting it every fifteen minutes.” Trey snorts. Now that he’s just walking across a room instead of concentrating on stairs, he can feel that Cater’s body actually is quite a bit lighter, and not just because of the spell. His torso is just a little too bony underneath his clothes, ribs and hips heavily defined and palpable. He frowns a little, giving him an experimental squeeze. “Let’s get you to bed, hmm? I want to get you naked.” 

“FINALLY. Nnngh-! Get you… get YOU naked too~” 

Cater clumsily tugs at the back of Trey’s shirt, giggling his head off as he only manages to tug it up to his shoulder blades. He fumbles a little and it slips out of his fingers, falling back down.

“THWARTED!!” He jams both his hands down the back of Trey’s pants instead, pushing his waistband down until the cleft of his backside is peeking out. “Nnngh-! Imma get’chu!”

“Well, aren’t you eager!” Trey gets him into his own bedroom and tosses him down onto the bed. Cater flails and squeals, giggling so hard that his entire face has turned pink. Trey can’t help laughing with him, playfully wrestling him down to get him out of his shirt. “Looks like I thwarted you~”

“Oh nooooo, I’ve been thwarted~” Cater giggles in easy defeat.

“Mmm-hmm~” Trey tugs his shirt off. Cater tucks his hands behind his head and bites his tongue with a cheeky smile. He’s pale, and his nipples are like tiny, pink rosebuds. He was always on the thin side at school, but now he’s almost worryingly thin. It looks like he’s barely been eating, and it’s surprising that it hasn’t really shown in his face yet. Trey stares down at him, excitement fading just a little as he traces his hands over his waist and chest. 

“Oh Cater…” He looks up at Cater’s face, then crawls on top of him, gently pinning him down. “I love you. You know that, right?”

The expressions that flicker over Cater’s face as he says that are complicated. Longing and pain are foremost among them. His eyes are suddenly over-bright. Before Trey can really see much more, he leans forward and presses a deep, gentle kiss to his mouth, subtly twisting free of his grip just enough to do so. 

“I love you too~” He murmurs without answering the question. Trey returns the kiss, wrapping his arms around behind him in a firm, comforting embrace. He doesn’t know what happened, but it’s clear that it was bad. Cater’s been suffering.

“You know that… right?” he repeats with a half-serious little smile. This time, Cater giggles.

“I knowwwww~” he answers in a deliberately sassy tone. He reaches down and teasingly hooks a finger into the waistband of Trey’s pants, tugging on the button until it pops loose. “Oops~!”

“H-hey!” Trey blushes as Cater drags down the zipper. Why did he decide to wear his green boxers today? These are so plain and… and stupid…

“Now I’ve thwarted YOU!” Cater snickers and continues tugging Trey’s pants and underwear down as far as he can get them… which is mostly just bunched up around the tops of his thighs and still thoroughly in the way. “Ehh-! Stupid pants. Behave and get off!” 

Trey laughs as Cater pokes at his tummy, trying to make him sit up straighter. “Having some trouble there?”

“Treyyyyyyy, your pants are the worst!” 

“Oh noooo, my pants refuse to fall. Guess I’ll just give YOU attention instead.” Trey smugly tugs Cater’s own pants all the way off, and tosses them to the floor. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of Cater’s own, much sexier black boxers and then pauses, feeling a little uncertain. “… Is this ok? We’re not moving too fast?” 

“TREY-!” Cater wails, hips bucking upward into his.. “Noooo, keep going, please, I’m gonna explodeeeee, hnnnnnn~!!”

He tugs at Trey’s pants again, trying to get him closer to bring naked. “Don’t you make me resort to using magic while I’m distracted and horny!” 

“Ok, ok,” Trey chuckles and sits up enough to let Cater slip his pants off.  He tosses them aside, then double-takes as his eyes catch a  white handprint on the back pocket, like someone patted his butt with dusty, white powder. “What the…? Did you decorate my ass with powdered sugar?”

"Heeee~ I think I did it by accident. Sowwy~" Cater runs his hands down Trey's sides with an apologetic pout.

“It’s okay. Brings a new meaning to having a ‘sweet’ ass.” Trey snickers.

"Hee~! Well, you do have a sweet ass."

Trey leans forward to kiss him again, sighing happily at the closeness. The touches, the way Cater looks so happy. It all makes him feel so loved that his heart feels like it’s going to overflow. “Can I… do something… for you?”

"Like what?" Cater's voice is breathy and his cheeks are flushed. His fingertips keep brushing gently over the curve of his thighs, creeping closer and closer to Trey's crotch like he's trying to sneak up on it.

"Can I... suck you off?" Trey is somewhat experienced in this area, and given his fascination with mouths, teeth, and tongues… well. He explored a few things.

Cater bursts into giggles and presses his forehead into Trey's chest for a moment. "You realize it's supposed to be the other way around, right? You're supposed to be begging me to suck you off?"

"Is it? But I asked if I could do something for you. Not you doing something for me,” Trey frowns, wondering if he’s doing this wrong. "I don't have condoms so... I don't know what else we could do? I figured this would make us both…"

"Nooooo, that's not what I mean..." Cater bursts into giggles again. "YES, you can suck me off, but like. If it's just a condom thing then I have condoms. Don't feel like, pressured, ok?"

“I don’t. And no pressure on you either, okay?" Trey slips down until he’s lying on his front between Cater’s legs, with his chin resting lightly on his pubic mound. "I just want you to relax, not worry, and let me do this for you." 

"Feels more like you're doing me a massive favour. Not used to being pampered," Cater gives him a small, almost sad smile. "You're pretty amazing, you know that?"

"So are you!” Trey pushes himself up onto his elbows and gives Cater a serious look. “You're amazing too. I don't think you know how much I adore you. You're present, you’re courageous, you're free spirited, you do so many things that I can't. That's why in college, and in the bakery today…” He leans down and kisses Cater’s tummy, just below his belly button. “We make such a good team. And when I see that you're not getting taken care of, it makes me worry. So let me pamper you. Let me feed you until you burst. Let me spoil you until you can’t take anymore, and-"

Cater all but lunges for him, kissing him deeply. His arms wrap snugly behind his back, hugging him fervently, almost desperately. 

"Oh my god..." Cater buries his face in the side of his neck with a breathy chuckle. "You can't just say things like that."

"Hmmm~" Trey hums, kissing him back. He’s just happy that he found the right thing to say, the one that Cater so obviously needed to hear. “But I did say it.”

“Yeah~ you weirdo…” Cater’s fingers push tenderly through Trey's hair, smoothing it back from his face. They accidentally knock into the earpiece of his glasses, knocking them askew. Cater slips them off, and then leans back and cheekily puts them on his own face.

"Agh! I can't see anything!” He squints through the lenses at him with a silly grin.

“Yeah, ‘cause they’re made for bad eyes. You don’t have bad eyes. You know what you got?” Trey snickers. He can make out Cater’s face with a bit of a squint, but anything further away is just a blur. 

"Noooo. What do I got?" Cater beams at him, tongue between his teeth in a cheeky smile again. 

“Pretty eyes. They’re like rock candy.” Trey says, chuckling at his lame joke. 

"Oh my goooood," Cater moans, falling back into the pillows. "That's almost a dad joke. It's a bad joke. A BAD DAD JOKE."

“Sorry, that’s the only kind I have,” Trey chuckles apologetically, trailing his fingers down Cater’s sides before finally tugging his boxers off. Cater inhales eagerly, lifting his hips a little to help. Unlike Trey, he's circumcised, and the tip of his cock is the same shade of pink as his nipples. He has a cute little trail of red-blonde hair that starts a few inches down from his belly button and curves between his legs. Trey settles himself again and then gives his cock an experimental little lick. 

“Mmmmm~” Cater moans, thighs and tummy visibly tensing. His head falls back and his pretty, rock candy eyes close behind Trey’s glasses. "H-how... do you feel about noises?"

“Noises? I don’t mind. Be as loud as you want.” Trey leans in, and drags his tongue across the head. He pops it into his mouth and pulls his tongue along the shaft in a firm, full-mouthed lick. It feels so satisfying and wonderful on a fundamental level to do this~ He wiggles his hips, pressing his legs together to rub against the bedspread and licking him again.

“Guh~!” Cater’s tummy flexes, and he makes a needy, strained noise. His fingers curl into little fists, and he pauses, panting softly a few times before shyly running his fingers through Trey's hair. "Oh god… f-fuck-! Haaahhh... Oh my god, this is so fucking hot~"

Trey’s face warms at the unexpected praise that what he’s doing is considered ‘hot.’ He works his tongue back and forth, enjoying the warm, soft texture and guiding the head back and forth through his lips.  He reaches up with one hand to squeeze the base of the shaft at the same time, using it to meter how deep he’s taking him. He’s twitching and hardening inside his mouth in such a wonderful, fascinating way~

"Ohhhh-HHH!" Cater's voice breaks, core muscles fluttering and body pulling into a tense arch. He takes a few, shallow breaths and then makes a strangled sound as though he's struggling to hold himself back. "G-gonna... real close. Don't want to... in your mouth..."

Trey quickly pulls his mouth off in that moment, pumping him rapidly with his hand instead. He appreciates being warned, since he honestly doesn’t want cum in his mouth.

"Trey-!" Cater comes just seconds later with a loud, drawn out moan, spilling cum over Trey’s hand and staring at him with a heady mix of pleasure and intense love. He's still wearing Trey's glasses, but they've slipped comically down his nose, too big to stay properly in place. Trey keeps going until his body relaxes, and his panting starts to slow. He wipes his hand off on his boxers, faintly proud of how quickly he made Cater come. It looks like he really needed that. 

He crawls up beside him, then gently takes his glasses off Cater’s nose and places them safely on the bedside table. "You good?"

“Yeahhhhhhh~" Cater leans forward and presses a silly, giggly kiss to Trey's cheek. "I can... do you if you want. Don't wanna... leave you out of the fun."

"Only if you want..." Trey murmurs, brushing a strand of sweaty, red hair back from Cater's face.

"Yeah I want~" Cater murmurs, reaching down to lightly draw his fingers down the front of Trey’s boxers. "How do you want me? Like you just did for me?"

Trey looks down. His boxers have a very noticeable bulge in them, and Cater’s little touches make him twitch and throb eagerly. "Mmmm~ Do it the way you want to. I'm afraid that I'm not the best at all this." 

"Could have fooled me~" Cater woozily switches places with him and nuzzles his face between his thighs. Trey stuffs a pillow under his head and shoulders to prop himself up, wiggling his legs apart to make it easier for Cater to get between them. 

“Goodbye undies~” Cater tugs his boxers off, then lightly traces Trey's cock with two fingers and a giggle. "He has a widdle scarf!"

"Cater!" Trey blushes hard, not expecting that comment about his dick. His, unlike Cater's, still has the foreskin. He knows Cater isn’t making fun of him, but he... Cater can see what he looks like and... Oh Seven, he’s going to see that stupid tattoo if he tries to turn him around…

Cater snickers and nuzzles the tip of Trey's cock with his nose. "Shhhh, stop it Cater, you're embarrassing Trey-Trey~" He gives the shaft a playful lick, and then casually pops it into his mouth, licking at the underside and sucking gently. Trey covers his mouth, shivering as a pulse of warm pleasure surges eagerly through the pit of his stomach. His core muscles tense up, and he watches Cater closely, entranced by how his tongue moves, how his cheeks are puffing out. He still has that cute, overgrown fang on the left side~

“Mnnn…” he moans faintly, feeling his cock twitch against Cater’s lips. Cater's eyes flick upward with a little smirk, and then he looks down and starts bobbing his head in a smooth, even rhythm. Trey can feel his tongue stroking up and down the underside of his shaft with slick pressure, and the suction tugs at his skin, making him throb in time with his movements. Cater’s hands curl under his buttocks, gently squeezing and holding him. His hair is mussed from lying on his back, half out of its little ponytail and sticking up in the back. It waves up and down as he slowly begins to speed up and take him deeper.

“Hahhh… hahhhh…” Trey pants softly. He reaches down to lightly touch Cater’s head, pushing his fingertips through his hair. It feels soft, and slightly damp from sweat. Cater pushes into his hand and moans softly around his cock, sending a gentle vibration through the shaft. His fingers curl under his thighs, giving him a firm, full-fingered squeeze. He bobs his head a few more times, then pulls him out of his mouth with a little sigh. He takes a deep breath and lightly licks along the sides of his cock. 

"You doing good?" He kisses Trey's inner thigh.

Trey nods wordlessly. He feels like putty in Cater's hands, and mouth. He pants gently, staring down at him. "I'm... I'm close... Your mouth feels so good..."

“Good! It’s supposed to~” Cater beams, then dives back in at a quicker, and more powerful pace. His mouth makes wet, slick noises and his fingers curl and stroke at the backs of his thighs. Trey can feel the pad of his tongue squeezing him tight to the roof of his mouth and curling around the tip, pressing his foreskin back as he bobs again, and again, and again…

"Cater! I'm going to cum... Cater... Cater..." Trey switches his grip to the sheets so he won’t accidentally trap him, his legs trembling, and his knuckles turning white. He clenches his jaw, and-

"Nnnnnnnnnmmmmgh!" he feels his cock throb hard as the orgasm washes over him. Cater keeps sucking him, stroking the shaft with his tongue to fully milk him dry. He can feel him swallowing around his shaft, dragging out the orgasm out until his cock starts to soften and he flinches a little, suddenly just a little too sensitive. Cater lets go with a wet pop, then matter-of factly wipes off his mouth and crawls up next to him with a long, sleepy sigh. 

“Good?” He reaches out and lightly boops the end of Trey’s nose.

"Uh... uh huh..." Trey takes a long, deep exhale. The sheets of his bed are sticking to his body, and he’s glowing with warmth and sleepy contentment. It feels like Cater somehow cast ‘Paint the Roses’ on him, and made his own body feather-light. "You surprised me... I didn't think you'd swallow."

"Meh..." Cater lets his face drop into the space between Trey's face, his shoulder and the pillow, making his next words muffled. "Feels ok doing it for you... I've done worse things."

"Worse things? Did you get super kinky after graduation?" Trey jokes, wrapping his arm around Cater and rubbing his back. Cater snickers into the pillow, shoulders hitching. 

"Lot of things happened. It's been a while…" his voice trails off into silence. Trey frowns, then pulls him into a close, firm hug. 

"... Cater... I know something happened... and I don't want to press you, but... I can tell it wasn’t good."

“Mnnnghhh…” Cater turns his head back around and presses his forehead into Trey's with a little sigh. "Don't wanna remember that stuff. Just want to be here..."

He wraps his arm around Trey's back and snuggles in close, closing his eyes.

"...be with you."

"That's okay... I wanna be with you too…” Trey lets it drop, lying with him and just breathing. Basking in the serene, comfortable silence of their shared afterglow.

Then Cater’s tummy gurgles loudly. Trey giggles then leans down and kisses it a few times.

“Eeeee-!” Cater squirms around, giggling and halfheartedly pushing at his forehead to make him stop.

“We forgot lunch. I'm thinking of something nicer than sandwiches. Got anything in mind?" Trey snuggles close to his side again.

"Mmmm..." Cater teasingly kisses the underside of his jaw, and then nibbles his earlobe. "You're nicer than sammiches~"

"Hmmm... Am I? I don't think I'm very filling." Trey jokes, giving Cater a small squeeze. He loves being here... staring up at his ceiling with Cater~

"You did a pretty good job just now~" Cater claps both hands over his own mouth with a little wail. "Aghhhh, sorry! The joke HAD to be made, but ewwww, now I’ve grossed MYSELF out..."

“I’m ordering takeout,” Trey snickers, dragging his pants back over to the bed to dig his phone out of his pocket. “The barbecue place delivers.”

The order arrives quickly, and the worst part is having to get out of bed to eat. Trey complains the entire time about the quality of their hamburger buns, much to Cater's immense amusement. 

They fall into bed a few hours later, feeling silly and pleasantly exhausted.

It's well into the wee hours of the morning when Cater slowly wakes. He makes a face, and then very carefully untangles himself from Trey's arms. 

“Hnnn…” he gives himself a little hug, then pads into the other room as quietly as possible. Once there, he pauses at the doorway, listening to see if Trey's breathing has changed. 

It hasn’t.

He walks up to his suitcase, unzips the top, and pulls out a swath of silky, black material. Almost angrily, he jams it into a ziplock bag with some bottles and needles and other shit from a past life he's now desperately grateful he can forget. He bundles everything in a wad of garbage bags.

He sneaks out to the door, down the stairs, and to the dumpsters behind the building. It's pitch black, and lit only by the indirect light of a pale, sickly orange of a streetlamp. He throws everything away, stuffing it down out of sight where some curious dumpster diver won't find it. They come to collect the trash in just a few hours. He'll never have to see any of that shit ever again.

He turns around and heads back toward the apartment, hugging his arms close to his body. All he wants now is to crawl back into bed with Trey. It's cold out here...

"Monsieur Magicam~?"

The voice is whispered, but Cater still nearly jumps out of his skin. He looks around wildly, taking a deep, angry breath when he finally sees Rook lurking casually in the shadow of a doorway across the alley.

"Don't call me that," Cater hisses, struggling to control his breathing.

" Non , I suppose not anymore," he agrees easily. "Will you ever tell him?"

Cater’s eyes narrow angrily at that. "I don't recall ever telling you ."

"So you did not."

"Mmm." Nope. No. He’s not doing this. Not here, and especially not with Rook. With deliberate silence, Cater walks past him and starts to walk back up the stairs to Trey’s apartment.

"It's a beautiful thing, a second chance. I'm only sorry that you even needed one."

Cater pauses at the door, eyes burning and breath catching in his throat. 

"Don't... just..."

He roughly palms his eyes and quickly escapes back inside without looking back. 

Rook just watches him go, head tilted curiously to one side. He simply stands there, listening for a long moment as Cater’s footsteps retreat and he gets back into bed with his amour. And then silence. He’s simply gone back to bed. Fascinant~

Lost in thought, Rook steps out onto the street, and wanders off into the early morning. 

[dagger-n-ravvi]

Chapter 16: Good Ending Part One: Job Offer

This is a rewrite of the entire story! We are rewinding to that very first day in Trey’s shop, before anything bad and stalker-y has happened, and assuming:

Cater’s mental state is bad, but more typical of how this character might actually react to trauma.

Trey immediately invites Cater to sleep over at his apartment.

No warnings in this one!

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A03 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49350448?view_full_work=true

On the first day, shortly after the cupcake run on Trey’s bakery has ended:

“Helloooo~! Trey-Trey? Anyone home?” Cater calls from the front of the shop. No one is manning the cash register, but it says ‘Clovers’ on the door, and they should be open for two more hours. There’s a little dingy-bell on the counter, but it always feels so rude to use those…

"Huh? Now that's a familiar voice." Cater hears someone begin walking around in the back of the shop, and then the door to the kitchen swings open. "Hello! Is that who I think it is?” 

“I dunno, who do you think it is?” Cater waves as Trey comes out and stands behind the counter. He looks amazing. Covered in flour and all sweaty, but still~ 

Cater catches himself staring and looks down with an embarrassed little grin. “Wooooow, looks like I caught you in a lull huh? Your goodies are super picked over.” 

He points unnecessarily at the empty shelves in the display case below the counter. Trey smiles brightly at him, making Cater’s heart do all kinds of happy, fluttery things. 

“They are, and you did!” He confirms. “What brings you here? I thought you were doing a travel vlog in the Shaftlands?”

"Ahhh, the Shaftlands, the Sunset Savanna. I even ended up in the Scalding Sands for a minute there. It's been exhaustingggggg~" Cater smiles tiredly, not wanting to dredge up any of that at the moment. "Love your location. It's looking solid. You got barbecue up the street, and ice cream down the street. Bread and sweeties right in the middle."

“Thanks! The barbecue place only opened up this year. It used to be a cheesemonger, but then he had a heart attack and no one wanted to take over the business.” 

"A cheesemonger had a heart attack? Oh boy, I bet the news was all over that," Cater winces sympathetically.

“Eh, not really. He was a good guy, but he didn’t get out much. I really miss having a local source for cheese. Did you have lunch?”

Cater blinks up at him in tentative surprise. Is Trey asking him to…? Nooooo, no way. He’s just being polite. "Uh... Ha ha, I guess not. You? Probably not, if your morning was so busy."

“I was actually about to sit down. Come back! I’ll make you a sandwich. Chenya! We got a visitor.” Trey calls through the door to the kitchen, then beckons him to follow. 

"Oh... oh wow uh..." Cater just stares at him for a moment, at a loss for words. He can feel his cute-and-happy facade slip for just a moment into something tentative, tired... almost afraid.

'You can't trust this. You can't trust anything...'

“I haven’t really been able to keep up with Magicam. Things have been getting crazy around here. I actually had a line on the street an hour before I even opened today,” Trey is saying as he keeps holding the door open. 

"A... a line? Ha ha, I believe that," Cater feels almost as though he’s fallen into a dream. He follows Trey into the back. "I'm surprised you haven't gotten a bigger shop! People were lining up for a chance to get one of your goodies back at NRC."

“You know, I haven’t really thought about expanding. I like a quiet life.” Trey explains with a chuckle. 

"I find myself surprised as well~” Cater jumps, startled to see a cat beastman with chaotic, purple hair sitting at a small table tucked between the work counters. He’s reclining on a battered, wooden chair, and holding an iced cinnamon bun in both hands. Cater stares at him, feeling his heart sink just a little. Oh... of course Trey would already have someone special in his life. He's such a special guy, how could he not?"

“At the very least he needs another employee,” the beastman continues, then gives him an improbably enormous grin. "Hello! Would you like a job?"

“Chenya! I don’t know if Cater would like to work for me. He says that he’s been traveling everywhere and he’s tired.” Trey rolls his eyes, and walks over to the table with a plate of sandwiches. He waves Cater over. Cater sits down, accepting the sandwich automatically and taking a bite… and then another.

He starts eating in earnest, face breaking into a smile. It’s spicy ham and pimento, and delicious. "Mmmmmmm~ If I work, do I get free sammiches? I might work for free sammiches."

"An excellent question. I already work for free cinnamon buns," Chenya nods solemnly.

“You both are terrible,” Trey groans. “Tell you what, if you're actually interested in helping me out, I can pay you in food and money, but you have to get up early. Also, you only get one cinnamon bun for free, Chenya. You still owe me for the SIX other ones!” 

"Alas, and woe is me!" Chenya mourns, licking icing off of his fingers. "Cater, we must unionize against this treachery."

Cater snorts into his sandwich, looking up at Trey with a teasing smile. "Oh wow. With an offer that good and union protection, how could I refuse? How early are we talking?"

“04:30 AM. Baking takes time, and I open at seven.” Trey says with a yawn. “And hey! If you don’t have a place to stay that’s close by, you can stay with me tonight! That way you’ll make it on time.”

This... it's almost too much. The voices in Cater's head are all so exhausted…

"S-stay with you?" He echoes faintly.

So goddamn tired of losing everything he knows. Part of him wants to run away screaming…

“Yeah! I’ve got room… Cater?” Trey’s voice suddenly changes into confused concern. “Uh… everything okay?”

…and burst into tears because he just doesn’t want to be alone...

"I..." Cater smiles, forcing himself to smile as his eyes start stinging. "I'm fine~ Ha ha."

A tear rolls down his cheek, and he quickly takes another bite of sandwich, using it to hide his face. To his faint surprise, he’s actually hungry. Ha ha… he hasn’t been hungry in forever.

“I’m going to be closing up soon… for the day. Are you taking the offer to stay with me?” Trey asks tentatively. “You can just… stay. If you want to. You don’t actually have to work, that was mostly a joke…” 

"No! I mean, ha ha. I don’t mind helping. And sure, I’ll stay, as long as it’s ok? I don't want to get in the way of you two...?" He glances over at Chenya.

“Get in our way? What do you mean? Chenya doesn’t stay with me.” Trey scoffs.

"I most certainly do not,” Chenya confirms with a haughty sniff. “Trey's sense of style is decidedly plain, and no attempts to add purple to his colour schemes have yet been successful.”

“I like my earth tones, thank you very much.” Trey huffs.

"Oh! Ha ha, sorry. I thought you two were together. I know you both go way back," Cater says with a sheepish smile.

“Together? Never. Chenya hides my shoes when he’s bored, and once he sucked all the middles out of my cream puffs and replaced them with clam juice.” Trey grimaces.

“Your shoes whispered to me that they longed for adventure, and I indulged them. They grow so bored when you never take them anywhere new,” Chenya mourns.

“The powerlines over the highway were new, I’ll give you that. But I am NOT your type,” Trey snickers, then looks over to Cater with a little blush that makes his tummy flutter again in a happy, wonderful way. “And um. I’d love you to stay.”

“Ha ha~ Well, I promise I won’t take your shoes on adventures or make you wear purple,” Cater smiles.  "Haaahhh... Yeah. Sure, I'd love to stay if you'll have me. I’ll even work, if you promise to pay me real money and not just sammies."

“Ha ha, deal. Well then, I’m going to close up,” Trey stretches his arms. “Maybe we can make some time to go out and have dinner… not tonight though. My feet are killing me.”

“Hey, a quiet night in actually sounds great. You need any help? Feels weird letting you do everything for me,” Cater smiles and reflexively tugs at a lock of hair behind his ear.

"Ehh, only if you want. Get your stuff, and I'll show you where you're staying." 

“Ok!” 

Still barely able to believe that this is actually happening, Cater hops up from the table and hurries out of the bakery, unable to suppress a big, happy grin.

Cater disappears, and Trey rushes through his prep for the next morning. Chenya gives him a hand with the bakery stuff, and then insists on following him upstairs to his apartment.

“I can set this all up on my own ,” Trey grumbles, hoping that his friend will take the hint.

 “I know~” Chenya waggles his eyebrows meaningfully at him. “But you can be rather dense, and you should know that silly Cater is sweet on you. Are you sure he’ll stay in the guest room? Maybe I should stick around to chaperone~” 

"There's no need for anything like that! Besides, I can tell that something happened to him... He just needs a friend." Trey sighs, pulling a set of fresh towels out of the linen closet. "And he is NOT sweet on me! Don't you put ideas in my head."

(… even though the thought of Cater here with him ~ Cater helping him with his bakery~)

“He’s sooooooo sweet on you~” Chenya rolls over in midair, crossing his arms behind his head and reclining on nothing as he gives Trey a smug grin. “He came all this way just to peek in on an old friend, and he agreed to stay the night with you~”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s… oh.” Trey pauses halfway through putting a fitted sheet on his guest bed, taking a moment to really think about it. Cater did get all teary and hesitant during lunch, but…? Was he crying because he thought him and Chenya were together?

“Don’t worry, I won’t say ’I told you so’ when he tries to sneak into bed with you. Do you have condoms?” Chenya’s tail sways back and forth in a deeply self-satisfied way. 

“Oh shut it! Now you're putting MORE ideas into my head!” Trey swings at Chenya’s face with a pillow and a furious blush. Chenya vanishes with a snicker, not even giving Trey the satisfaction of bapping him. Trey rolls his eyes and sets the pillow on the bed where it belongs. “Besides! Cater… Cater would want someone who’s more exciting. And I… don’t deserve someone like him.” 

“Pbbbbbbtttttt~”

"ACK!" Trey flinches as Chenya blows a raspberry directly into his ear, and then vanishes with a mischievous giggle. “Ew?!”

Trey rubs his ear to make it feel less gross, then jumps a little as he hears a knock at the front door. That was quick!

"I'm coming!" he calls out, walking out of the guest room, and into the entryway. He opens the door, "Hello!"

"Hiiiii," Cater is standing at his door with a little smile and a big roller bag. "Got my stuff. This is your apartment?"

"It is! Come in!" Trey leads Cater inside. “This is the bathroom, kitchen, that’s a closet. This is my room, not that far from yours, and this is yours!” He finishes the mini-tour at the guest bedroom. “I don't have a lot, but I hope you’ll be comfortable."

"Awwww, it's all so cozy." Cater sets his bag down in the guest room and smiles up at him. "It's great! Sure beats the teeny hotel I was staying in."

"Yeah, and I figured it would be cheaper to stay here too." Trey smiles. He cleaned like crazy to get everything ready for Cater's stay, and he’s been up since four-thirty. He feels SO tired, but every time he looks at Cater his heart flutters in a warm, and very distracting way…

"Oh, way cheaper,” Cater snickers. “Can I help with anything?”

"Oh! I almost forgot about dinner…" Trey turns and steps back over the threshold. Despite there being absolutely nothing there to trip on, he awkwardly trips anyway, and finds himself stumbling toward Cater.

“Oop-!" Cater jumps forward to steady him. "Don't fall over on me! Yeesh, maybe I should make dinner for you instead."

"I'm... I'm so sorry... I just... lost my balance." Trey holds onto Cater, his face so red that he can practically see his cheekbones glowing. "You? Make dinner? Ah ha ha… you don't need to worry about making anything. I have some pre-made stuff.  Green beans just need to be seasoned..."

"Yeah, yeah, I can put seasoning on green beans," Cater snickers, letting go of Trey. Is it just the ideas that Chenya put into his head, or is he blushing too? Dammit Chenya…

"Your kitchen is over here, right?" Cater asks, walking toward the kitchen.

"Y-yeah..." Trey follows after Cater, feeling a little hot. "Um... I can... guide you... lemon is fantastic on green beans... I'll set the oven. It can be confusing..."

“Ha! Oven on~” Cater easily sets the oven. “I had one of these once…”

Cater is very effective help. He all but insists that Trey sit down while he monitors the side dishes and meatloaf. He even wipes down the counters and gives the pots and pans a quick wash, clearly used to working efficiently in kitchens.

“Ooooaaahhh… Long day for both of us,” Cater yawns as he sets everything on the table. “Jet lag has me pretty good.”

"Cater, thank you so much for helping," Trey says apologetically. "I think it's safe to say that we'll both be going to bed early tonight.” “Ha! Yeah probably…” Cater starts to dig into his meatloaf.

“I’m curious about your travels. Did you find any neat places?” Trey asks, trying to start a conversation. 

“Ahhhh, travel. It was kinda fun at first.” Cater takes a big bite of mashed potatoes. “Mmmm! So far my best experience is coming back and having good foodies with you.”

“Oh you… you flatterer…” Trey chuckles, blushing again in spite of himself. “You did a good job with all this. I think you’re better at cooking than you used to be.”

“Awww, all I did was follow instructions, oh past-vice-housewarden of mine. This was nothing compared to that one time Riddle tried to make us prep that unbirthday party without you. Never knew a cake could be so flat! It was like a rock, ha ha.”

"That was a disaster in a half. He collared everyone..." Trey covers his mouth to hold back a snicker. "And I was in the hospital that week... ugh that was awful!"

“Pretty bad, yeah. I was never so happy to see you again,” Cater laughs. “You know, I saw Riddle just a week or so ago?”

Trey starts a little, giggles fading. He hasn't seen Riddle… not since that night. Has it been a year yet? Maybe a little more…?

"How is he?" He asks, keeping his voice calm even though a little surge of dread is burning through his chest. Did Riddle mention his mother? Oh no… does he miss her? Does he know… ? 

‘Calm down, don’t think about it. You cleaned everything up and Cater is your friend… he just doesn’t know.’ 

“Like… weirdly good, actually. Always thought he was on the doctor track, ‘cause of his ‘ you know who ,’” Cater shudders. “But he’s actually in his last semester of pre-law. Doing his own thing, making himself happy. Tons of homework, but that’s just a perk for him.”

Trey slowly smiles as Cater says that. If anyone could enjoy law school, it’s Riddle. That fits so well…

“OH! And get this. He’s dating. Floyd. Fucking. Leech.”

Trey chokes on a green bean. “Floyd Leech? That Floyd Leech?! Are we sure it’s not someone else with the same name?”

“Nope! It’s the pointy-toothed, teal haired, chaotic pain in everyone’s ass himself,” Cater shakes his head. “I was just hanging out talking to Riddle, and he like. Wandered in looking all huffy, and grabbed a liter of soda out of the fridge. Riddle was all calm and didn’t even look at him. Said ‘Put half of it back when you’re done, please.’ Floyd made this scary, grumpy noise, chugged half the bottle right then and there, then put it back and stomped out of the room. Like…”

Cater puts his fingers to his temple, then makes a little explosion noise and a ‘mind blown’ gesture. “I give it a year before they either get married or murder each other.”

“To think… Those two…” Trey shakes his head in wonder. “I would imagine murder. How did they get together? Did he say?” 

"I have no idea. I tried to bring the conversation around to it, but Riddle seemed really embarrassed. The only thing I got out of him was 'I tried to write in my schedule that we were to spend time together every weekend, but then he ate my schedule! And I yelled at him that paper has no nutritional value, so now he is sulking.' Something like that, and he was blushing SO hard, ha ha." Cater finishes his glass of water, making his next giggle echo a little. "Who knows. Maybe kidnapping was involved."

"Well, he did visit the North Coral Sea right after graduation. Maybe that was when Floyd put the moves to our dear Housewarden." Trey snickers, spearing another green bean and looking at it tiredly. "Dating... good for him. I haven't really made time for that myself."

“I had a couple of bfs, but they didn’t really go anywhere,” Cater yawns hugely. “Oooof, sorry. I’m falling asleep over here! What time do we have to wake up again?”

“Ah… at four-thirty. We should head to bed,” Trey catches the yawn from him and covers his mouth.

“Gotcha~” Cater clears up the dishes, leaving them to soak in the sink before following him back toward the guest room. He pauses at the threshold and then turns around and looks back at him. His expression is tentative, but he’s also smiling just a little. Grateful? Maybe hopeful?

“Well, good night,” he smiles.

"Y-yes... Good night." Trey realizes that he was staring and blushes, warm flutters jumping all through his belly.

“Night…” Cater hesitates, then moves in close and gives him a soft, little kiss on the corner of his mouth. Trey's chest trembles, pupils dilating and breath catching in his throat. Everything seems to be unfolding before his eyes in a wonderful, enticing, and deeply terrifying way. He loves Cater. He loves him a lot, and...

And Cater loves him.

'You're not gonna stop there are you?' Trey impulsively leans in to deepen the kiss. Cater makes an adorable little squeak, and opens his mouth with a longing moan. His arms wrap behind Trey’s back, and  push up underneath his shirt, stroking over his back and shoulders. Trey inhales eagerly. He breaks the kiss just long enough to lightly trace Cater’s full, lower lip with a thumb, then dives back in again.

“Mmnnnn~” Cater keens into the kiss, tugging at him as he starts to walk backward toward the guest bed. Trey clumsily follows him, gasping as Cater all but falls onto it and pulls Trey down on top of him.

 "Cater..." Trey murmurs his name like it’s the highest possible praise, trailing his lips down his cheek and along the side of his neck in a series of little kisses. 

“Oh-~” Cater gasps, tilting his head back with a needy mewl. “Haaaaaahhh… f-fuck~ So it’s been… a while for you too?” 

"Uh... uh-huh... Cater... I... I want..." Trey sleepily nuzzles into his neck. His guest bed has a really good mattress… he forgot how good it was.

“I want tooooo…” Cater’s hips press upward and he bends a knee, pulling it up along the back of Trey’s leg and backside and holding it there as though he’s trying to hug him with every part of his body. “Fucking hell, I’m so tired…”

"Mmmmm… Me too…" Trey trails off, snuggling into the embrace. It feels so good… just to hold him like this.

“I gotchu…” Cater starts tugging up on Trey’s shirt, eyes closed and breath starting to slow.

"Mnnnnn..." Trey presses another little kiss to the side of Cater’s neck, and his eyes fall closed.

“Ihhhhhh…” Cater manages to tug off Trey’s shirt and giggles woozily as he drops it off the side of the bed. “Treyyyyy~” 

He snuggles deeply into Trey’s arms, taking a long, slow breath. “Dammit… why so sleeeepy…?”

He presses a long, lingering kiss to Trey’s forehead and nuzzles into the crook of his neck. Trey cuddles him back, body throbbing for more that he’s simply too tired to reach for as he fades into sleep.

[dagger-n-ravvi]

Chapter 15: Bad Ending, Happily Married

Trey does not trust Chenya.

Trey doesn’t think to poison himself.

Cater gets to finish what he started.

Chapter contains blatant noncon porn, rape, bondage, kidnapping/implications of long term imprisonment, gang rape, non-consensual photography and videos

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A03 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49350448?view_full_work=true

Trey is lying on his side, naked with his wrists and ankles bound snugly together. There's a wad of cloth in his mouth, and a few wraps of duct tape across his face to keep it in. 

‘How… how did I get here?… ’ He blinks woozily into the darkness, trying to concentrate past the throbbing in his temples. He can remember going into the warehouse at Carpenter Beach… and then Cater…

He whimpers softly into the gag and closes his stinging eyes. Cater drugged him. Forced him through some twisted parody of a wedding, in return for Chenya and Rook’s freedom.  He remembers the ring… 

His finger twitches in memory. He can still feel it there, a rigid sense of pressure against his left, ring finger. It’s a flat, gold band inset with twelve, tiny magestones. The moment Cater put it on him, it shrank into place, locking itself on, and completely preventing him from using magic. It's similar to the anklets that police use to hold mages in prisons, but this one has intentionally, and sickeningly been shaped like a wedding ring.

“Mnnnffff…” Trey grunts, weakly flexing his arms and legs. His mouth is dry, and his tongue is gummed uncomfortably to the cloth. He takes a deep breath through his nose, and then rubs his cheek against his shoulder, fitfully trying to roll the tape back enough to get his mouth clear. The moment he starts moving, a heavy, intensely distracting pressure blatantly makes itself known inside his ass, exactly where he would prefer it NOT to be. Did Cater stick some kind of toy inside him?! He twists his wrists around and awkwardly tries to reach back to feel…

The pressure inside him immediately transforms into a deep, thuddy vibration that spreads clear down the insides of his thighs and halfway up his spine. 

“Mmmph!” Trey jolts, reflexively squeezing his eyes shut. His core muscles reflexively tighten, making everything feel even more intense. He quickly gives up trying to feel around for the toy, going limp on the floor and panting as his cock starts to twitch and stiffen…

As suddenly as it had turned on, the vibration turns off again, leaving him with only the stretch, and now his gently throbbing cock. 

“Mmmm… mmm…” Trey turns his face to one side, whimpering softly and forcing himself to focus. He's lying on something soft and cushioned, but unless he can get his hands free, the best he'll be able to do is squirm around. He braces himself, and then gives his wrists a hard tug to try to break the tape.

“Hhhmfffff!” Trey cries out, writhing as the vibration surges across his body’s most sensitive areas again. The plug is long enough that the tip presses firmly against his inner sensitive spot whenever he clenches up, and it feels as though it’s getting somehow even more sensitive the longer he’s teased. His eyes roll up nearly into the back of his head. He can barely concentrate.

‘Oh… ohh… nnnghhh… ’ Trey moans into the gag. His thoughts fog up, and head gets floaty. His discomfort is slipping away, pulling his mind more and more firmly toward what is happening between his legs with a creeping sense of addictive pleasure. He can’t think… just feel… 

“Nnn- nnnnn … hhh… hhh…” Trey whimpers as the vibration shuts off again, leaving him aching even worse than before. Sweat has coated his bare skin, and his face is flushed. He barely has the strength to react when he hears Cater’s cheerful, bouncing footsteps begin to approach the space where he's lying.

Click~ 

A bar of light appears under the edge of a door just a few inches away from Trey's nose, revealing that he is currently lying on the floor of a small, empty closet. Cater's footsteps approach the closet, and then the shadow of his shoes appear just past the crack beneath the door.

"Trey-Trey, are you being naughty?" He asks in a playful, muffled voice.

“Mmnn! Mmm!” Trey protests, even though he doesn’t know what sort of answer Cater even wants. Is he supposed to be naughty? What does it even mean to be ‘well behaved’ when you’ve been kidnapped by a friend who’s revealed himself as a yandere-adjacent stalker?

"You ARE being naughty~ You’re supposed to get good sleep for tonight. No wiggling~"

Cater opens the door, letting light from a large bedroom flood into the closet. In spite of his words, he sounds delighted to have found Trey wiggling, and looks even more delighted as he takes in his sweaty, aroused, and helplessly hogtied body.

"Now I have to punish you~" He crouches down into a low squat, and then reaches out and gently boops the end of Trey's nose. Trey stares back at him, eyes stinging from the light. Cater sounds playful… and happy? Is he actually going to punish him, or…? 

Trey’s ass clenches at the memories of the faceless, black-suited figure with its silky fingers and murmured praise. Is that what Cater wants? To… to do that again?

"I can finally use all of my other me-s!" Cater's form shimmers a little, and then splits three times in quick succession until there are five, gleeful Caters staring down at him. "I had to hold back before I could get a ring on you~"

"A little too trademark, yeah?" A different Cater bends down and nuzzles his cheek. Trey shivers, weakly shying away. Cater’s ‘Split Card’ magic is something he’s seen many times before, but it never filled him with dread the way it does now. “Yah, definitely too trademark~”

"But now that I don't have to do the whole 'hide your face thing…'” “We can have..."

"Some real fun…"

That promise sends goosebumps scurrying along Trey’s back and shoulders. It was bad enough when there was just one. 

His traitorous body squeezes in anticipation.  

Three of the Caters lean forward and lift his bound body between them, hauling him up and out into the open. The room past the closet is simple and spartan. Apart from a king-sized bed in the center, it doesn't appear as though anyone actually lives there at all, and everything smells faintly of new paint. Trey squints around, surprised by the surroundings. Had Cater bought a new house ? The smell is so… fresh.

"Are you thirsty?" The Caters set him on the bed, and then two immediately spoon him on either side, sandwiching his body between them. A third gently works the tape off his face, and the fourth brings over a water bottle with a bendy straw. Trey’s mouth is so dry that the cloth has to be peeled off of his tongue. He’s so thirsty…

He lifts his chin and puts his lips around the straw, moaning softly in relief as the cool, wet pressure soothes his tongue and pulses down his throat. It’s probably drugged, but he doesn’t care, he needs it so badly-  

Shockingly, as he continues to drink, it seems to be actual, real water this time. No undertones of medicinal chemicals. No special herbs or cute 'drink me' labels. It’s a relief, but also a little unsettling that it isn't drugged. Cater must be so confident of his hold on him that he isn't trying to alter his mental state to stay in control. Where did he take him?!

"There, isn't that better~?" One of the Caters lovingly pets the back of his head.

Trey nods reluctantly. He did like the water. 

“Good~ I'm gonna take such good care of you Trey-Trey~" 

Trey feels so small, being cuddled, being taken care of. He can’t keep himself from trembling slightly as Cater rubs his chest, and pets him down. 

"We'll get you some foodies next, but first~ You were wiggling around, weren't you?" The Cater holding the bottle gives him a wicked, playful smile...

Trey balks at that. Should he tell the truth? His cock is enough of a give away, but he’s not sure what kind of game he’s supposed to be playing here. He shakes his head ‘no’ at Cater, hoping to avoid punishment.

Smack-! 

“Aaai-!” Trey gasps as a sharp, heavy swat lands across his backside, jolting the plug and making him jerk against the tape around his wrists and ankles. Giggling, the two Caters spooning him hold him firmly in place. His face flushes, and his cock pulses needily. He feels like a plaything, being handled like this.

"Trey-Trey, were you wiggling~?" The first Cater bends down and beams at him with his hands on his knees, like he's talking down to a toddler.

“Y-yes…” Trey answers very quietly and shamefully.

“Yes you were~” Cater cups his face and presses a deep, loving kiss between his teeth. Fingers trail lightly and teasingly down his backside. “You were supposed to sit still and wait for me! Naughty~”

Trey whimpers quietly, ears burning with humiliation. Even if he’d wanted this to be a kinky, sexual thing, which he very much does not, the accusation is hardly fair-

Another smack lands across his left buttock, and then his right, both angled intentionally inward in a way that sends heat and throbbing pressure through his plugged ass. 

“AAAH-!” Trey jolts, backside throbbing from the playful abuse. He clenches hard, sucking the plug inward and against his inner sweet spot again. The heat, the pressure… “S-sorry! P-please no more!” His cock feels like it’s going to explode.

“Are you gonna cum just from this?”

Smack! 

“N-no I won’t! Cater please-HAA!” His voice gets cut off, ending in a sharp yelp instead. 

“If you do, I’ll have to punish you some more. You better hold back and be good for me~”

He smacks him three times in quick succession, switching sides each time to hit him in a different spot until his entire backside is so warm and tingly that it feels as though it’s glowing.

“S-stop…” Trey cringes, his muscles tensing from the spanking. He isn’t going to cum! He doesn’t want to, he doesn’t he doesn’t he doesn’t- 

SMACK-! 

“N-no more…”

"Shush~" One of the Caters captures his mouth in a kiss, sucking teasingly at his lips and tongue while the one spanking him gleefully kneads his stinging backside, spreading him out to admire the plug before pushing it in until the flat end has bottomed out against his body. 

“Plea-mmmnff-!” Trey moans into his mouth. Every suck sends shivers down his spine, making him keen pathetically. The Caters holding him on the bed giggle in his ears, then begin kissing the sides of his neck as the one at his backside gives him a final, hard squeeze, and then another hard smack.

“Nnnnuu… nuuuuh-“ Trey pants and moans, core muscles fluttering. 

"We don't stop until I wanna stop~" 

SMACK, SMACK, SMACK~! 

“GHHHHHHH-!” The final smack breaks Trey. His orgasm comes in a burst of hard waves before he collapses limply between all the Caters.

"Trey-Trey! I told you not tooooo~" The Cater kissing him pulls back and fondly squeezes his cheeks. "Now all your moaning has gotten me hard for you~"

The ones cuddling him giggle and keep pressing kisses to the sides of his neck. Trey feels like crying… he probably is, given how hot his face feels and how disconnected and floaty his mind has gotten. 

“You… you wanted me to fail.”

“Me? Never~” The Cater behind him lightly tugs on the plug, playfully wiggling it around before completely pulling it out. Trey whimpers, feeling… so empty . His body tightens on nothing, almost as though it misses having something inside. 

He's able to catch a glimpse of a fifth Cater taking the plug out of the room to wash it before the one who was kissing him pulls out a phone and flips it around to show him the screen.

"Look at you~"

Moans and slapping sounds come from the phone's tiny speaker, and the screen shows a video that Cater must have taken of that first, awful night. It's a POV shot with what must have been a body-mounted camera. It shows a figure in black fucking his ass with a firm, rapid pace. He might have missed that it was him if not for that stupid little clover tattoo.

“Th-that’s…” Trey can’t finish his thought, voice cracking. He’s crying now, face red and eyes burning from humiliation and despair. He… he sounds like such a whore.

"It's youuuuuu~" Cater coos, and the two cuddling him nuzzle happily into his chest and kiss the back of his head. "You at your best~"

A firm, insistent pressure rolls over the opening of his ass, slick with lube before pressing against him with a gentle, rocking motion, making him cry out and bite down on one of his fingers.

"Let's make another one~ I wanna have hours of footage of you going all soft and gooey around meeee~"

On the screen, his moans have started to become more desperate, and the figure in black has picked up the pace, hips slapping against his ass with every stroke. His cock is curled up hard against his belly and visibly twitching. Trey looks deliberately off to the side, but he can still hear it, and somehow that’s worse. 

“N-no! L-let’s not make another one! Isn’t one enough?” 

Cater sighs and rolls his eyes. “Mood killer with all this negativity Trey-Trey! Less grumbling, more moaning!”

The clone that Cater seems to be using mostly for little maintenance tasks hands him a large, black ring on a leather strap. He presses it up against Trey’s teeth, see-sawing it gently against his lips. It feels hard, but rubbery, like steel coated with silicone.

“Open wide~” He coaxes as the gentle pressure against his ass continues, and fingers begin to toy ever-so-lightly with the slippery head of his cock. Trey tries to lean back, to get his face out of reach or at least make it difficult for someone to grab him, but it’s laughably easy for Cater’s many hands to force the ring into his mouth.

“And since you’re being such a sour-puss,” Cater holds out a hand and one of his clones drops a little squeeze bottle of lemon juice into it. “You get to be extra sour until I decide to put something sweeter in there~!”

“Aaaiyyy!” Trey chokes as Cater tips his chin up and squeezes a dollop of lemon juice directly onto his tongue. The taste is blisteringly sour, and his mouth immediately begins to salivate so much that he can’t help but let it drip over his chin and onto Cater’s lap in wet, gooey strands. 

“Ack… eh…” Saliva drips from his mouth, forming a small stream that cascades down his chin, and drips onto the bed. His tongue flexes, trying to scrape the miserable taste off using his teeth.

“Oh noooo, do you not like it?” The Cater who was kissing him unbuttons the fly of his pants and kicks them off. His shirt and underwear carelessly follow, leaving him naked and VERY obviously aroused as he lifts Trey’s dripping face and nuzzles his nose with a smile. “But it got you got all sloppy and wet~” 

“Aaahh…” Trey wiggles, closing one eye. The pets, the half-mocking care. It’s giving his lightheaded overwhelmed body such awful, mixed feelings. He’s being held gently enough, but he knows that things can change. Anger. Fear. Possessiveness…

Cater presses the tip of his cock through the ring gag with a deep, happy sigh. As he does, the pressure at Trey’s ass also increases, sinking inside him in a slow roll of warmth and slick pressure.

“Ack!” Trey winces hard at the taste of Cater’s cock. It’s musky, but better than the lemon. His tongue instinctually rolls over the intrustion, before flinching back with an unhappy gurgle.

“Mmmmm~” The Cater at his mouth bounces experimentally, making extremely lewd, wet sounds as he slips in and out of Trey’s mouth. 

“Ugh! Gugh! Guuhg-“ Trey splutters. The bounces make his tongue react, drawing backward to protect his throat and rolling against the underside of the shaft. He flushes hard in shame and distaste as more drool drips down his chin. The bedspread below his face is soaked, not that Cater seems to mind. He coos and moans eagerly as he rolls his hips, gently questing deeper. Every time Trey’s tongue slides over his shaft, he can feel it twitch and harden, and a little more of the overwhelming lemon taste is replaced by salt and light musk. Weighing his options, Trey reluctantly licks, rubbing his tongue on the underside of Cater’s dick.

“I found that lemon juice trick on the internet~” Cater purrs, petting the back of his head with both hands. “Mmmm, I like it. Got you so wet for meeeeee~”

The cock at his ass draws back and then begins to slowly pump in and out, generously milking his prostate with every stroke. Cater must have used extra lube because every thrust is smooth and achingly pleasurable. Trey’s muscles are already so relaxed that his body almost seems eager to get something back in there…

Out of the corner of Trey’s eye, he sees that fifth Cater again, holding up a camcorder and biting his lip to hold back a gleeful smile. He casually slips a hand into his pants and starts to stroke himself with a wide, blushy grin.

The two Caters who were holding him still peel the tape off his wrists and ankles, and then gently pull his arms down to his sides. One teasingly slips Trey’s own hand down the front of his pants and tries to drag his fingers down the length of his cock. The other presses a line of kisses down the straining column of his throat, sucking a little harder on each kiss before lightly biting and sucking a spot just above his left collarbone.  

“Aaugh-“ Trey chokes at the bite, “Grk, grk, guphk, guhpk, aaguph-”

He’s feeling so hot- his hips are beginning to weakly tilt upward to meet every thrust. He’s accepting the cock deeper into his mouth, letting it push right at the back of his tongue. The more he relaxes into it, the more excited Cater seems to become, both around him, and inside him. A set of hands find his cock and add a slick, rapid stroke to the dual sensations at his ass and throat. He’s speared and sandwiched between all of them, and they all seem to be experiencing the same, increasingly desperate surge of pleasure. Cater does want to take care of Trey. He wants to do it in a fucked up, possessive, and deeply fearful sort of way, but it’s obvious that he’s much more interested in overwhelming him with pleasure than physically hurting him. 

And now that increasingly familiar cock is stroking the sensitive inner walls of his ass again, smacking repeatedly against his lightly stinging backside. The cock in his mouth is rigid, and every time he licks it, Cater’s hips buck reflexively into his throat, getting closer and closer to his own orgasm. He seems to desperately crave Trey’s participation. 

“You’re licking me so good love…” he gasps. “Do you want me to cum inside you~? Do you like feeling me fill you up~?”

‘Ok… ok… change of plans… maybe the best way to handle this… ooh fuck—is to get Cater to cum. If… ohmygod fuck-! Nnngh… if I can get him exhausted… nnnngh… might be my chance-! ’ 

Trey closes his eyes, “Mmm~!” He lets his tongue finally ‘play’ with the thing in his mouth. He licks the entire underside, and swallows around the head. He glances up at Cater, trying to gauge how close he is. 

“Fuck, fuck fuck-!” Cater makes a tight, desperate sound that’s echoed by all the copies around him. The one holding the camera nearly falls to his knees, and a wet spot appears on the front of his pants. The one in his ass buries himself, and hot, wet pressure floods his insides. The one who was using Trey’s hand to rub his cock covers his palm in cum, and the one against his side spasms, and presses a deep, loving kiss into the side of his neck.

And finally, the one at his mouth pulls back enough to keep from choking him, and cum spurts over his tongue. Trey chokes. He’s frozen. Unsure what to do. He doesn’t swallow it, leaving it all pooled in his mouth, and dribbling down his chin.

Distantly, his tongue slowly moves underneath Cater’s softening cock, trying to spit everything out. He’s already made a mess, what’s a little more?

“Hnnnn… mnnnnghhh… “ Cater pants, and one by one, the clones start to vanish, until the only one left is the one at his mouth. He pulls out and gently unbuckles the gag, kissing his cheeks, nose and forehead as he eases it out of his mouth. Trey spits out the rest, weakly smearing the overwhelming mess off his chin with the back of his hand. He feels so disgusting… 

“That was so hot love. Did you cum too?”

“Uh… uh-huh…” Trey weakly falls to his side.

“Awwww, no you didn’t. Sweetie, you don’t have to lie about that to me. Here~”

Cater gently pulls him onto the mattress and tucks an arm around his shoulders, cuddling him close. He kisses him on the cheek, and then takes Trey’s hand and guides it down between his legs. It’s the hand that Cater just came on, so it’s coated with cum.

“Here~” he kisses him again, guiding his hand through the motions of stroking himself. “Keep going.”

Trey swallows and winces at the lingering taste of cum. He lets Cater push his hand downward, following along like a dreaming marionette. Cater isn’t sleepy yet… he can’t attempt an escape until he stops... 

With a clumsy, trembling hand he grasps his length, and slowly moves his hand up and down. It’s very… very intimate , given that this is something he’s only done in private before. A tiny, exhausted part of his mind is upset about that...

He pants softly as he strokes himself. Up and down, he stares at the wall behind Cater’s head, eyes stinging with unspilled tears. He stops for a moment, his stomach tightening.

Cater kisses his cheek, then turns his chin to the side and captures his mouth in a slow, and extremely sloppy kiss. He nudges Trey’s hand, encouraging him to keep going before slipping lower and gently stroking the rim of his ass.

“Hnngh… n-nguhh…” Trey starts moving again, weakly accepting the kisses. He has to… he has to do this. He’s not a slut. He’s just trying… trying to…

The sounds of Cater kissing him are visceral and wet. He’s moaning softly into his mouth as his hand continues to lightly tease at the outside of Trey’s ass without slipping inside, patient and lovingly slow. He’s holding him in an intimate and inherently comforting way, one ankle hooked teasingly around his calf to spread his legs slightly apart. The fingers of his free hand brush gently down his back before pulling him into a snug, one-armed hug.

“Ahh… ha… ha. Haaa… Cater-“ Trey whimpers, not realizing that his hand has sped up. 

Maybe… he can pretend that this isn’t fucked up… 

It might have been easier to believe if the ring that Cater forced on him wasn’t pressing over his cock with every stroke, biting lightly into his finger even as Cater kisses and strokes him with all the tenderness of a consensual lover. No matter how kind and gentle he is, it can’t make up for the cold, bleak reality that he hasn’t given him a choice.

Trey closes his eyes, moving faster and faster. He holds his breath, stomach fluttering before he finally cums all over his own hand. Cater kisses him through the orgasm, rubbing his back and cradling him close as it peaks and subsides. He nuzzles his chin into his shoulder and gently presses a kiss against the little notch where his collarbone starts.

“I love you,” he murmurs.

His breathing steadies and slows, and his eyes drift closed. He’s still cuddling Trey, but he seems to have fallen asleep.

Trey pants shakily, eyes burning with mortified tears as he forces himself to wait for Cater to go deeper into sleep. In a fucked up way, and underneath a lot of powerful, negative emotions… Cater does love him.

He doesn’t know how to feel about that.

He waits for an hour, maybe two… fighting his own exhaustion and light-headedness...

He listens to his own breathing… to Cater’s… 

He closes his eyes waiting for the perfect moment to pass… when Cater is...

…

He falls limp in Cater’s arms and his own breath slows and steadies as he falls asleep.

[dagger-n-ravvi]

Chapter 14: Bittersweet Ending: Monsieur Cassé

The ending that most fits the preceding story.

Monsieur Cassé roughly translates to ‘broken man.’

Chapter includes aftermath of sexual assault, and symptoms of PTSD

Previous | Next Chapter | Fic Index

A03 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49350448?view_full_work=true

The police quickly come and secure the building. Trey and Chenya are both bundled into an ambulance. Rook flatly refuses medical care, but stays long enough to give the police an explanation of what happened. They seem satisfied with it, because they let them all leave after just an hour of questioning.

Cater is not found.

Chenya and Trey are released from the hospital after a few days of care. Chenya is an awful patient and threatens to leave on multiple occasions, much to the irritation of the nurses on staff who may have discharged them early JUST to get him out of their hair.

Ms. Rosehearts is never mentioned in the brief, gentle questioning that the police have for Trey. They seem to think that Cater only kidnapped and poisoned him. Nothing more. If Rook knew about the sexual assault, then he must have decided to omit it.

And Trey decides to keep it that way. He doesn’t show Cater’s messages to the police. He deletes them all late into the third night of his hospital stay, with a silent plea that wherever Cater is, he is getting help. 

And of all the lies of omission that he makes, that is not one of them. Trey tells the police that he believes his friend has descended into madness, and needs help and treatment. He can tell by his questioner’s expression that she thinks he’s in denial, or maybe suffering from Stockholm syndrome. She gently tries to convince him to press charges once Cater is found and arrested, but he refuses, and the matter is dropped.

A couple weeks pass. Chenya helps him with the bakery. Rook even shows up a few times to offer a hand, even though he does admit to being very busy with Vil’s work. It’s possible that he’s partially motivated by a desire to track Cater down, and wants to be in an area where his quarry last spent some time to recapture the scent. But he also seems genuinely concerned for Trey, and more than a little shaken himself. He admits later that Cater had kept him chained up for two days, and had been showing off Trey’s pictures and gloating. He doesn’t say much beyond that, and looks extremely uncomfortable whenever the subject is brought up.

Trey does his best to smile, trying to keep calm, and to bury himself in his work. The trauma counselor they made him talk to said that he should move somewhere else for a while, but he can’t just close his bakery. That would be far worse than living with the memories.

He doesn’t look at high windows, or at least tries not to. His body still remembers, and it makes him feel trembly and sick when it does.

Finally, late one evening, Trey’s phone buzzes once in his pocket. He reaches for it, wondering if it’s Chenya, Rook, or even Riddle…

It’s an unknown number. 

Trey swallows hard, pulse hammering in his temples and reads the message.

Unknown #:  hi 

He gets up from his couch, checking the bedroom window, the kitchen window, the front door. The new lock he put on it is made with magic nullifying metal, and can’t be spelled open. He double checks that it's closed.

He approaches his closet, carefully watching the screen to see if anything changes as he does. Nothing…

He throws open the door. His winter shirts flutter slightly in the breeze that his rapid movement created, but there is no one inside.

His heart is a mess. Twisted. Scared. He’s shaking.

His phone buzzes again. He jolts hard and nearly drops it, taking deep, shuddering breaths as he stares at the screen. 

Unknown#: Rook found me. He made me text you. 

He’s probably going to kill me when we’re done, ha ha. 

sorry 

He…? Rook found Cater? He found him?! Hands shaking so hard he almost drops the phone, Trey thumbs over to Rook’s messages and presses the ‘call’ button. 

“Trey.” Rook picks up immediately.

“C-Cater texted me. He said that you have him,” Trey stammers.

“I do.”

The phone buzzes twice. Trey flinches a little, pulling it away from his ear. As he does, he can see that the call has switched to video mode. Rook’s face  appears, and then he holds his phone out at arms’ length and pans around the room. It’s a cheap, tiny hotel room, like you’d find anywhere in the Queendom of Roses. The bed has been pushed against the wall to clear the floor, and Cater is sitting on a chair with his wrists handcuffed in front of him, and his phone in his hands. He looks away when Rook points the phone at him, but it’s very obvious that he’s been crying. Rook lingers on him for a moment, and then turns the phone back around.

“I give you closure, Chevalier de Roses. Do not be looking over your shoulder for this sad, broken thing. He will not harm you again.”

Trey barely realizes that he’s backed into the wall until he’s sliding down it, with one hand pressed tightly over his mouth. He takes a shaky breath, and then nods once and forces himself to drop his hand. 

"You..." Trey swallows hard. "And that's it? Everything will be done?"

“I will take care of everything,” Rook says softly. “You need not know anything further.”

"NO. Please... put him in a hospital." Trey begs, "Where they can... where they can help him." 

Rook frowns at that. “Trey, no. He is too far gone. I…”

“I want to talk to him. Can he hear me?” Trey pleads.

Rook sighs deeply, and the phone screen turns so that it’s facing Cater. 

“He can hear,” Rook confirms in a voice with a slight echo that shows Trey that he’s been put on speaker phone.

"Cater... Cater I don't want you to die." Trey grips his phone hard. "This doesn't mean... I DON’T forgive you. But I think... I think you need therapy, and to get help. I don't know if I ever want to see you again. But I wouldn't feel right... if you died without getting a chance. Because I made mistakes. I made a REALLY big mistake and… and the people that knew about it still gave me a chance. I didn't tell the police what you did... just like my friends didn't tell the police what I did. This is your chance. Please don't waste it." 

Trey takes a deep breath, and closes his eyes. Does he need to say anything more?

No… no. That is it.

Cater had started shaking his head, slowly at first but then more and more frantically as Trey had continued. By the time he’s done, Cater is openly, hysterically sobbing and curled in on himself like he’s trying to melt away into the floor.

“You see, Monsieur Cassé?” Rook says softly over Cater’s hyperventilating hiccups. “Despite everything he loves you still.”

He turns off the video call mode and Trey hears him sigh deeply again. Cater’s tortured sobbing cuts off as he takes the phone off speaker. “If you are so certain, then I will do as you ask. Is there anything more you wish from me tonight?” 

"... If he breaks away from the hospital? Then… then do what you must." Trey says hollowly. "I don't want to know where he is. I just want him far away from me." 

He doesn’t want to know. He just wants this to be over. He takes a deep, slow breath, and nods to himself. "Rook... thank you. I'm... gonna get a new phone number."

“As you wish…” Rook hesitates. “If you see fit to send me your new number, I would take it as an honour.”

"We'll see." 

Trey hangs up, and then slowly falls sideways and curls his knees up close to his chest. His empty room seems to stare back at him with all the ominous uncertainty of a strange place, made somehow worse because everything should be comforting and familiar.

There’s a sense of relief in knowing that Cater has been found, and that Rook is going to take care of things. But still…

He doesn’t want to be alone.

Weakly, he picks up his phone again and calls another friend.

"Chenya?”

“I’m here.” 

“C-can you come over tonight? I... I need someone. Please?" Trey whispers the last word, eyes burning and chest tight.

“Yeah, of course, I’ll be right over.”

He’s there in minutes, and doesn’t ask questions. He just pulls Trey onto the couch and snuggles into him, turning on the TV and giving him quiet and steady company. Trey rests his head against his shoulder, staring out at the TV without really watching.

Is it truly over?

He doesn't know. Maybe it's not. 

But he'll take it one step at a time. 

[dagger-n-ravvi]

Chapter 13: But I Love Him

Despite everything, sometimes we can't help the things we feel.

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A03 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49350448?view_full_work=true

“NO!” Cater screams in disbelief, snatching up Trey’s shoulders and shaking him as he goes limp. The moment his attention is diverted, a purple light flashes under Rook's leg. The railing that he's chained to shatters into pieces. He yanks his wrists free, snatches up the magestone pen that Chenya had managed to slip to him, and lunges at Cater. Cater barely has time to widen his eyes before Rook shoves him off of Trey, and then hurls him off the mezzanine level. He falls twenty feet to the floor below with a scream, and a heavy thud.

"Agh-" Rook rips the tape off his mouth and throws it away. He drops to his knees and lightly touches Trey’s flushed, overheated cheek. "Trey!" 

Trey-! Trey can hear a voice in the distance, but cannot respond. He’s falling down a rabbit hole, past mirror after mirror all reflecting back a mask made of nothing where his own face should be. In the background, a clock is ticking. Slowly, slowly ticking. Ominous. Loud. Final. Tick. Tick. Tick…

Rook rolls Trey onto his side and presses a hand to his stomach. Magic surges through Trey’s body, and he vomits, bringing up the bulk of the poison the same way it went down. His eyes flicker open, and then fall closed over hugely dilated pupils. His pulse is thready and weak.

"Don't you leave us," Rook tears open the collar of his shirt, and then presses a hand over his chest and draws it outward. The poison that made it into his blood and heart oozes out through his skin in a strand of sticky, black ooze. Rook flings it away and it hits the wall, clinging to the plaster in a viscous, toxic spatter. Trey coughs, his body convulsing, gasping. He takes a slow, ragged breath.

Don’t you leave us… 

Trey looks up, pupils slowly shrinking back to their normal size as his eyes weakly focus. “R… Rook?” 

"Oui. I am so, deeply sorry for all of this.”

"Mmnfff…? Wha…? Where‘m I…?" Chenya tugs woozily at the chains, making small, confused noises. Rook casts a quick spell to shatter the railing that he’s chained to, and he crumples forward onto his hands and knees.

“Chenya, gather yourself. Trey needs you.” Rook’s tone is terse and angry.

“Nnnghh…?” Chenya paws feebly at the hood. Rook makes a frustrated sound and then leaves Trey just long enough to drag Chenya over. He roughly yanks the hood off, and then shakes Chenya by the shoulders. 

"Réveillez-vous! Protect him."

He takes Trey's magestone pen out of his pocket and slaps it into Chenya's fingers.

"You goddit..." Chenya nods firmly. Rook lets him go, and he immediately falls face-first next to Trey with a small, confused noise.

"CHENYA. Monsieur Cassé is getting away. I threw him down to the floor below, but merde, he was not seriously hurt. I can hear him…"

Trey can’t move… but he tries. He weakly tries to push himself up on his elbows for a moment, straining hard before collapsing, panting and soaked in sweat.

“Where… Cater…?”

"Mmmrow?" Chenya blinks owlishly at him. "Can’t move…"

Rook swears again and leans over the railing, eyes flicking over the warehouse floor. "I heard you run like the broken coward you are. Where are you...?"

There's no answer. His newly dubbed Monsieur Cassé is nowhere to be seen.

“Rook…” Trey forces himself up onto his elbows. “Cater will… increase his numbers… seek to take us out… I’m weakened… Chenya is out of it. Stay…

Trey tries to stand, but falls back onto his knees. “We gotta call the police… We need help. All of us… especially Cater...”

"Mnnnghhhhhhhhh-" Rook doesn't sound happy. He really, REALLY doesn't sound happy, but he grits his teeth and nods. "Do you have a phone? He took mine."

"I’ve mine." Chenya clumsily shoves a hand into his pocket, and then blinks when he comes up empty. "Ohhhh... my error."

“Y-yes…” Trey reaches into his pocket with shaking hands, and shows it to Rook. Rook nods and gently pushes it back. 

"Make the call. I will watch in case he returns and attempts to take advantage while we are distracted.

Trey nods and dials the number for the Queendom of Roses’ emergency services. They pick up right away. With a heavy heart he explains the situation. “Please come help. We’re trapped in Warehouse 12, on Carpenter Beach. My friends are hurt… we were kidnapped and need help.” 

Trey hesitates, chin trembling as he looks at the others. Chenya looks back at him with woozy, unfocused eyes. Rook doesn't look at him at all, head swiveling slowly between the entrance to the offices and the floor below in silent, ceaseless vigilance. They both still have chains around their wrists. They’re made of a dull, oddly cold metal that’s eerily familiar, now that Trey has had a moment to look at it more closely. Magic-nullifying metal. No wonder Rook couldn’t get himself free without a magestone.

“...sending help your way. Can you tell us anything about the person who kidnapped you? Sir? Are you still there?” 

“A mage… We don’t know where they are. Please… send an ambulance.”

"Understood. Please stay on the line-" 

Trey hangs up, feeling exhausted and sick.

"He's left through the back," Rook growls softly. "I heard him use the door."

“He… he left?” Trey asks softly

"Mnnnnghhh..." Rook makes that frustrated, angry sound again, pacing slowly along the broken railing on the mezzanine level like a predator in a cage. Cater wasn't exaggerating when he said that Rook would probably kill him if he let him go. Trey's never seen him this angry before. 

“Rook… Rook? Cater needs help. He’s… he’s not right… He needs therapy and-“ Trey follows him with his eyes, letting his face slowly fall back to the floor. “I f-failed him as a friend. I should have known… should have seen…”  

His eyes start to burn and sting again with tears that his body has spent far too many resources producing today. “I should have-”

Rook turns his head sharply toward him with an anguished expression. "Trey... for you to still be so forgiving after...?" 

He exhales slowly and goes back to scanning the floor below. "He compared himself to me. Tried to claim that what he feels for you is simply what I feel for everyone. He knows nothing..." 

He begins pacing again.

“I… it’s… it’s wrong… it’s wrong, I know… I know… But I love him.” Trey covers his mouth, face burning as tears pour down his cheeks. He loves him, he hates him, wants to punch him, kill him, hug him, kiss him, scream at him until he tells him the reason why- 

“I don’t understand… Why did he do this to me? Why didn’t he just take me out to dinner? I… I should have been better- ”

Rook turns around and bends down, lightly touching Trey's shoulder.

“Non,” he gently gives his shoulder a squeeze, looking intently into his eyes. “Not you. He did this, because he fears losing the beauty that he has. He fears it so deeply, that he seeks to claw it to himself, not understanding that he will destroy it in the process. And because he is so blinded, he brings about the very outcome that he so fears. He could not bear the thought that you might reject him, and now..."

Rook looks out over the warehouse with a flat, expressionless stare. "Do not blame yourself for his fear, or mourn that your compassion is so deep that you love him still. It is a beautiful thing, and one that he should NOT be allowed to destroy." 

Trey sniffs hard, slowly nodding as he squeezes his eyes shut and two more tears roll down his cheeks. He doesn’t truly understand. Maybe he never will. 

He lets his head loll sideways against Chenya’s shoulder and fades into an exhausted, uneasy sleep until the police arrive.

[dagger-n-ravvi]

Chapter 12: Bottoms Up

Trey confronts the stalker in the warehouse.

Chapter contains attempted suicide, non-consensual drugging, and kidnapping.

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A03 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49350448?view_full_work=true

Carpenter Beach is not much of a beach. It’s pebbled and heavily over-built with piers that stink of brine and dead oysters at low tide. The warehouses are a series of joyless, gray buildings that hug the docks. At one time, they were bustling with workers loading and unloading goods that had come from the Scalding Sands and the Shaftlands. Now they’ve largely been abandoned in favour of the newer, more strategically located downtown docks. There’s been grumbles in local politics for years about tearing the whole place down and turning it into a national park, but it hasn’t happened yet. Too expensive.

Warehouse 12 is the last one in the row. Trey and Chenya had gotten there as fast as possible, arriving fifteen minutes before the deadline. Chenya had gone in just a bit ago, to scout ahead and try to find Rook and Cater.

The silence is oppressive and heart-wrenching as the last few minutes before Trey’s deadline creep by. The warehouse looms over him. Its big, sliding front doors have fallen open a few inches, even though a chain and padlock is wrapped around the handles. The darkness past it seems to beckon to him with the promise of more abuse, and fear.

After what might have been an eternity of waiting, a text comes in from Chenya.

Chenya: Found them!! 

Trey Clover:

Good! Can you get them out? 

Chenya: trying, chained to wall 

Trey sucks in a breath, and then glares at the padlocked doors.

Trey Clover:

I’ll give you time. I’m coming in. 

Trey walks up to the doors, pulls them forward enough to make the gap bigger, and then ducks through underneath the chain.

It’s dark inside. Indistinct shapes suggest themselves from the gloom as his eyes sluggishly adjust. His footsteps echo slightly, suggesting that the space beyond is enormous…

His phone buzzes in his pocket. Trey jumps, then pulls it out. Is it Chenya? Are they safe?!

His heart sinks as he reads the text.

Unknown #: You’re late :( 

Trey Clover:

I’m sorry. 

Unknown #: I forgive you <3 

Trey grits his teeth, forcing down his growing anger as he types back a reply.

Trey Clover:

Thank you… can we talk? 

Unknown #: Soon.  I have a gift for you. 

Trey Clover:

I have a question… Do you want me to love you? 

The answer comes so rapidly that it’s almost startling.

Unknown #: yes 

Trey Clover:

Then I need you to let my friends go. Alive. 

Unknown #: Soon <3  For you. 

Trey Clover:

If you are lying to me… Then you won’t have me at all. Understand? 

Unknown #: I want you~ …  Can I give you my present now? 

Trey pauses, reaching into his shoulder bag and running his fingers over the side of his thermos. 

Trey Clover:

Sure 

The warehouse lights come on with a loud, resonant clunk and an electrical hum. The room he’s in is a wide, open area the size of a basketball court. At one time, it probably had rows of massive shelves in neat aisles along the floor, but they’ve all been stripped away. Only the rusted, metal bolts that had anchored them to the floor remain.

In the center of the room, glittering like a diamond against the cracked, concrete floor, is a beautiful, glass table.  A delicate, crystal bottle with a red ribbon tied around it has been placed teasingly in the center.

Trey looks at the table for a long moment, and then looks up. Above him is a mezzanine level with a row of darkened office windows. There’s a set of metal stairs that lead up to it at the opposite end of the room. Tucked into the space below the stairs are a pair of dimly lit, unisex bathrooms with the doors hanging slightly askew.

The floor is littered with crumpled paper, broken chunks of concrete, and seagull droppings. It’s clearly been abandoned for years. He takes a deep breath, and then reaches fir his phone.

Trey Clover:

uuuh… wow. Did you buy this? 

Unknown #: Ha ha noooooo 

Trey approaches the table, feet heavy. 

Trey Clover:

You know if you wanted to take me out to dinner, I can think of better places. Actually I’d rather have been approached with dinner when you decided to make yourself known three days ago 

Unknown #: You want to go out to dinner? <3 

He squints at the bottle. It holds about two tablespoons of clear, red liquid, and has a tag hanging around the neck that says ’Drink Me.’ Clearly more drugs.

Trey Clover:

Honestly if you knew me as well as you say you do, then you should know that I’m easy. What is this? A potion? 

Unknown #: A gift. Bottoms up~

Trey opens the top, and gives it a sniff, swirling it. 

Trey Clover:

You REALLY like drugging me. 

Unknown #: I like you relaxed. 

Trey Clover:

I like being present. Can you see me? 

Unknown #: Yes <3 

Trey Clover:

Then here is my gift. My consent. I won’t fight you. No drugs. 

He puts the bottle back down, chest tight as he types. ‘Please let this be enough.’ 

Unknown #: But you’re so tense! It won’t hurt you. Promise. 

Trey Clover:

No worries. I prepared tea. Here I’ll drink some right now. It’s chamomile.  

Trey uncaps his thermos and puts it to his lips. He can barely stand the smell. Bitter, and so astringent it nearly makes him gag.

Unknown #: Not the same :(  … If you drink it I’ll show you my real face. No fancy mask. No tricks. 

You’ll probably be really disappointed though.

Trey Clover:

It’s a very strong blend! But if you insist, how can I refuse? 

Trey forces himself to drink three, disgusting mouthfuls from the thermos. He puts the cap back on, and then downs the stalker’s potion, breathing hard through his nose as he struggles to keep himself from immediately throwing up. 

Trey Clover:

That was so gross. 

Unknown #: Awwww, sorry. I’m not so good with flavours. 

The lights come on in the mezzanine level, revealing the figure in the black bodysuit standing just inside one of the windows. They wave their phone at him, then cup it in one hand and tap the screen with a thumb.

Unknown #: Come on up.  

Trey forces a smile, heart pounding in his ears as he begins making his way up. The metal stairs echo with each step.

At the top pf the stairs is a short walkway, protected by a chest-high handrail. Behind it, a door leads into the offices. The stalker opens the door, and then almost shyly holds out a hand for him to take.

“Come here, I have something to show you.” 

Trey swallows hard, then forces himself to take the figure’s hand. “I thought you were going to show me your face?”

”I will~” 

They lead him through the offices and to the other side ”Right… through… here!” 

They open the door to another mezzanine walkway. Rook and Cater are chained to the railing by their wrists, and heavily gagged with duct tape. They recoil hard when the stalker opens the door, shaking their heads at Trey and screaming at him through the tape. Chenya is beside them, head hanging heavy and wrists tightly chained in the same position. He seems unconscious, but it’s hard to tell. His entire head is covered by a heavy, black hood.

”I caught a little sneak~” the stalker proudly presses a finger to Chenya’s hooded forehead, pushing his head up.

“…please… let them go.” Trey leans heavily against the wall, his voice weak, and his body swaying. Guilt and dread burns down the back of his neck, and makes his mouth overfill with nauseous saliva. “I swear… I’ll do anything. But only if they leave here alive. Please.” 

“I already promised,” the stalker soothes. He lets go of Chenya and his head lolls to his chest with heart wrenching limpness. ”Do you still want to see my face?”

Rook is glaring furiously at the stalker, breathing hard through his nose. Cater is trembling with tears pouring down his face, shaking his head slowly.

“I do.” Trey nods, giving them a painful smile and swallowing hard as his mouth overfills with saliva. His body badly wants him to throw up, and it’s a struggle to fight it. “Sorry… I’m feeling woozy.”

“It’s all right.”  

The stalker settles him on a metal folding chair, and then teasingly sits astride his lap. They cup Trey’s hands and bring them up to their face, slipping his fingers under the edge of the mask…

The fabric falls aside, and Cater is staring back at him, expression uncertain and uncomfortable.

“Hi Trey.” His voice is soft, and hollow.

“This isn’t a trick? You aren’t some stranger using my friend’s face? I…?” Trey looks between the Cater sitting on his lap, and the Cater chained to the mezzanine railing. 

“No, I promised. Hey me, watchu doing over there?”

The chained Cater shrugs, and then disappears into a little flurry of diamond-shaped sparkles. A ‘Split Card’ clone.

“Chenya thought I looked sad, so he tried to let me go first, before Rook-Chan,” Cater hums. Rook makes a furious noise and yanks at the chains, fighting them for a moment in frustrated anger before falling still, chest heaving. 

“So I jabbed him~ Same thing I gave you on our first night.”

“… What’s… the plan now? You have me…” Trey’s motivation to kill the stalker fades into dull, pitying sorrow as he stares back at Cater’s eyes. He can’t… he just can’t. Not when it’s Cater… 

"The plan? I have to let them go now, because I pwomised," Cater pouts. "But I miiiiight keep them long enough to scrub their memories. Otherwise Rook will murder me~"

Rook makes a soft, angry noise and Cater sticks his lip out at him. "He's mad because I went through all his notes on everyone. He has sooooo many creepy notes! There’s literally whole book on just Chenya. Did you know that his UM only works if he knows where he is, and where he's going? If he's lost... then uh oh!" Cater gives Chenya's heavily hooded head a little finger wag. "No hopping around through dimensions. It's why he's so obsessed with paths and directions and all that."

“But how… how did you get into my apartment? Wait… did you… like… build a stack of yous? And climb through the window?” Trey wonders aloud. His head is so fuzzy. His heart is pounding in his temples, and little trembles are running down the lengths of his arms and legs.

"Actually, I was in the bakery the whole time. I figured out where to stand so I was under your closet and then..." Cater flicks his hand upward. "I stood on the counter and ‘Split Card!’ There's a me in your closet. And then Rook comes sniffing around, ugh." He gives Rook an angry smile. "So unsplit, and then the other me goes poof. Easy." 

“Then… who…? Wait, did I actually just forget to close that window?”

Cater shrugs. "Wasn't me."

“Wow… maybe I really did just forget,” Trey sighs. “What about the hotel room? How were you able to afford the penthouse?”

"I borrowed Rook's credit card~"

“Ah… that’s mean…”

"It reaaaaally helped that he was super sleepy after he left your place that first night. What did you give him? It really knocked him out," Cater smiles knowingly.

“Just chamomile tea.” Trey responds, with a faint laugh. “Cater…” His heart feels like it’s breaking into ten million pieces as his vision starts to fade. “How did you know about Ms. Rosehearts?”

"Ohhhh, that. About a month ago, I was talking to Riddle," Cater rests his head against Trey's shoulder. "I got him drunk on accident, and he mentioned that his mom really went after you. Like, scary went after you. And then after that, she vanished. He never told the police, and the guilt over that really stuck with him, ha ha. So I put two and two together. Also Rook put it together, with a lot of extra theories as he do. He thinks she tried to stab you."

Rook deliberately looks away, hands curling into fists.

"But that doesn't matter now. You're going to come with me." Cater snuggles into his chest with a possessive little sigh.

“Where… are we going?” 

"Anywhere we want to go. Somewhere I can have you all to myself," Cater pouts. "Why didn't you just let me keep the mask on? It was easier when you didn't know."

Over along the mezzanine rail, Chenya stirs weakly, tugging at the chains with a muffled, confused noise.

“I bet it was…” Trey can’t help but lament the same feelings. It was easier… easier when he didn’t know who this was. When he could hate a faceless enemy and not feel so torn and guilty. “Please… please let them go right now. We have a nice thing going right? No need for them to stay?” It might be the last thing he ever says. His chest feels as though its being crushed, and he can barely breathe. His chest hitches, and a light froth bubbles up between his lips, coating his tongue with a bitter, metallic taste.

“I already said…” Cater sighs, and then double-takes, staring down at Trey's face. "What…?" 

His eyes widen and he snatches up the thermos, opening the lid and taking a sniff. He recoils with a horrified expression. "WHAT IS THIS?!"

“Chamomile… tea…” Trey falls limp against the folding chair, light fading from his eyes as he succumbs to the cocktail of poisons he brewed to save his friends.

[dagger-n-ravvi]

Chapter 11: Confessions of Trey Clover

Trey meets up with the person who went into his bakery.

Chapter contains kidnapping, and mentions of past sexual abuse.

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A03 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49350448?view_full_work=true

Trey calls Cater’s phone again, praying for him to pick up and struggling against panic. It isn’t 06:00 pm yet, he has more time, he’s supposed to have more time…

“Hey, hey~! You've reached the one and only Cay Cay! Sing your song at the beep~” 

He hangs up with a little whimper, and then circles around behind the building to let himself in through the back door. He doesn’t want to interact with disappointed customers right now. He just can’t… 

He walks through the kitchen quietly, on the lookout for anything out of place. If this stalker really does know everything, then they know about the basement. And if they know about that…

He walks past the front counter and onto the shop floor. Someone has started coffee. The smell rolls over his senses with comfortable familiarity, like the memory of a favourite song. His fingers twitch with the desire to roll his proofing cabinets over to the counters, to start brushing tops. Start baking…

His breath catches on a sob, and he presses a hand over his mouth, staring at the floor and what lies beneath it. He can’t protect his friends. Not with his magic, and not with his planning. The only way to end this is to remove the stalker’s motivation for hurting them. And if… if he’s really going to do this, then he can finally let Riddle know. If this is it, then Riddle should know what happened, and why…

"Trey?" 

Trey starts as Chenya appears out of thin air, sitting on top of one of the tables with his knees pulled up to his chest. 

"Is everything ok?" He glances uncertainly at the people outside, and then back at him, tail tucked tightly across his ankles. 

“No… nothing is okay.” Trey half whispers with his hand still over his mouth. “Chenya, we’re not opening today.”  

‘And I’m not going to open ever again.’ 

"Oh. Um. Ok. Ha ha... I shouldn't have started all that coffee then." Chenya hops down off the table and walks over to him, ears tilted down and back in open concern. "Trey...?"

Trey shies away from him, still able to see his friend’s gentle face staring down at him from the stalker’s black-suited body.

“Trey, what’s wrong?” Chenya pleads. He stops walking toward him, and holds his hands out in a pleading gesture instead. “Why are you…?”

Trey shakes his head, covering his mouth with one hand and looking away…

The tie-dyed, purple bandanna wrapped around Chenya’s hand catches his eye. He stares at it, eyes widening as he takes a shaky breath through his nose. A piece of this horrifying puzzle falls solidly into place. The burn… the burn that Chenya had refused to cool. Chenya hates water. He barely washes his hands. He hadn’t even tolerated putting cold water on his burned hand, never mind intentionally sitting in a bathtub where he could get splashed and soaked. He wouldn’t… he would NEVER…

It isn’t Chenya. It isn’t him-  

Trey lurches forward and hugs his friend tightly. “Chenya, I love you. And… I’m sorry.”

"I love you too." Chenya gasps as he’s squeezed. "What's going on?"

Trey makes a small, overwhelmed noise, hugging him tighter. He’s so tired. So hurt. And Chenya…?

Even if he’a wrong and Chenya IS the stalker, he doesn’t care. He needs someone, and he needs them now.

“I… I can’t find Cater or Rook… And I need to show you something important.”

"You can show me anything," Chenya pulls back and squeezes his shoulders with a worried smile. “I’m here for you.” 

“Ok…” Trey takes a shaky breath, and then leads him toward the closet door that hides the stairs into the basement. “Chenya… do you know what happened to Riddle’s mom?”

"Uhhhh..." Chenya's ears wilt again. "I kinda... kinda suspected. You were REALLY upset, and then she was just gone, so uh. Yeahhhhh..."

“I didn’t tell anyone what I did… but now I have to. I have to turn myself into the police.” Trey walks down the stairs, flicking on a light at the bottom. It’s a small, empty room with a bare floor. He could never bring himself to store anything down here. Not even the spare tables and chairs.

“She’s in here…” Trey taps the floor below him with his foot. “Buried under the concrete.”

"Under the bakery?" Chenya’s nose wrinkles in disgust. "This, my friend, is a very dark path. Are you sure you want to go to the police with this? It's been years, and they have the most annoying tendency to make things worse for no good reason. We can... urp." He puts both hands over his nose and mouth with an unhappy, little gagging sound. "I can. I can shove the body in a pocket dimension. If you really want me to?" 

His ears pin flat and he whimpers softly. "Oh god, please tell me that it doesn't still smell?"

“I doubt it.” 

Blood to bleach. She hadn’t even had time to scream. Her body had been falling apart, and almost unrecognizable… 

“Chenya, I’m a murderer. And… I… It wasn’t on purpose… When she came into my apartment she tried to kill me. I didn’t even think… but I killed her in such an awful way. I should die…” Trey’s voice chokes off into a sob, eyes burning and stinging.

"NO. Trey, I don't care. Please," Chenya pulls Trey into a shaky hug, pressing his cheek tight to his chest. "I know you haven't really talked to Riddle since then, but you did him a favour. He went to law school instead of getting forced into becoming a doctor. He's living in a nice apartment and dating someone. DATING someone! He's happy. He is actually, legitimately happy. And I want the same thing for you, ok? Even though it looks really bad right now, I know that this is the better path. So… s-so just stick with me, ok? Don't shut me out. Please, let me help you." 

Tears have started pouring down Chenya's cheeks, and he just lets them fall. Trey completely falls apart as he finishes, body somehow finding the energy and ability to feel anguished relief, and to cry again.

“Chenya… Chenya, what do I do? I’ve tainted this place… I… I feel so alone.”

"You're not alone, you've got me. I'm right here with you.” He hugs him more tightly.

“I… I… this thing has been holding onto me… for years and now… now… I’m being punished,” Trey chokes. “I… I got so scared… I started looking over my shoulder… paranoid. Fuck. I drugged Rook a couple of days ago because I thought he was working undercover and investigating me for the police… why did I do that?” 

"Rook? I didn't even know he was in town," Chenya breaks the hug and palms tears out of his eyes. “What does he have to do with this?”

“I need your help.” Trey shudders, “I… need to find Cater and Rook. Both of them. They’re in danger…”

"I saw Cater this morning. What do you mean danger…?"

Trey takes a shaky breath. Should he drag Chenya into this? Does he have a choice now that the stalker has threatened him?

He takes out his phone, wordlessly opens the stalker’s messages, and hands them over to Chenya. Then he stares down at the floor with an overwhelming sense of intense, burning shame, unable to meet his gaze.

"Holy. Fuck,” Chenya finally says in a strangled tone.

“I… have a fan…” Trey jokes weakly.

Chenya turns and smacks him on the top of the head.

"YOU WERE GETTING RAPED BY A STALKER AND YOU DIDN'T TELL ME??"

“I didn’t know who it was! At one point he made me think it might even be you! He kept changing between Cater, Rook and you!”

"Oh my god, oh my god oh my god ohhhhhhhh..."

Chenya rotates through a midair somersault with a hard shudder, and then vanishes with a ‘pop’ of displaced air. "That is awful. That is so much worse than I thought. I just thought you were burnt out, but this?! Oh goooooooood..."

“I… I was taking it as punishment for what I did and… I didn’t want the police to see. And start looking around…” Trey stares at the place where Chenya disappeared, wrapping his arms tightly around his upper body.

"Oh my god, no wonder you felt alone." Chenya appears again in front of him, hugging him tight with a sad, and deeply sympathetic purr.

“I think I know who it is.” Trey relaxes into the hug with a long, shaky sigh. “I think…”

He feels empty again, but it’s different now. He feels lighter. Still disconnected, but Chenya’s purring rumbles through his chest like a promise that he’s here, and can be trusted. It’s soothing, and he’s so starved for comfort. He drops his chin onto Chenya’s shoulder, leaning into him and burying his face into his shirt. “I was so scared. They told me that if I guessed wrong, you’d get ‘borrowed.’” 

Chenya snorts at that. "Me? Borrowed? How on earth were they going to manage that? No offense to dear Rook or Cater, but their evaporating skills are nonexistent."

Trey rubs his eyes, and laughs softly. "You know what? You're very much right. But still…”

He swallows thickly, and hugs Chenya a little tighter. “I think... I think it might be Rook... He works in show business. He’s crazy strong, and he’s good with potions. Whoever it is, he left me a note. A hand written note. I have a year book… I was going to try to compare the handwriting.”

"That’s a good idea. Let’s go.” Chenya palms his eyes again as Trey breaks the hug. “Rook always did have a flair for the dramatic, but this... I simply can't imagine. You know he tried to stalk me once? After he found out that I would occasionally visit with you and Riddle from Royal Sword. He got close enough to pull out one of my hairs, and scared me halfway back to the mainland."

"Yeesh. I'm so sorry about that. Rook’s just always been like that. Eccentric.”

“Eccentric,” Chenya chuckles weakly, following Trey as they leave the basement. The hair on his head and the fur on his tail are both puffed out like a bottle brush.

“I just… I can’t…” Trey walks up the stairs to his apartment and closes the door behind them. He feels like he’s going insane. “It makes no sense. Rook is weird but…”

He shahes his head. “Cater always loved taking pictures. He showed up out of nowhere right when I needed someone to help out, and he didn’t even discuss payment with me. Plus, he wasn't messing with his phone at all yesterday, which is just… weird. But if it is him, then how could he get into my bedroom? Or find out about what I did..." 

"Whoever is doing this to you very much loves their pictures," Chenya shudders with an expression that all but screams 'I cannot unsee that now.' "For that matter, how would ROOK know about dear Ms. Rosehearts? I barely knew, and that's only because I see you quite often."

"Well…” Trey sighs. “He came up to my bedroom window the other night, and I let him in. He told me that I had a stalker, and then he started investigating around my apartment. He found… he found one of her fingernails..." He finishes that last part very quietly.

"Ah..." Chenya makes a face. "You know, in hindsight, Rook always did seem to have a preternaturally good sense of smell. I half wondered whether he could track me between planes."

"That would be insane, but maybe. Either way, I think he figured out what I did.” Trey begins to search through his closet for his yearbooks. "But that same night, he just left. If he’d been going to… to hurt me, then why would he leave at all?"

"He always did seem to have a streak of decency underneath all of the... everything." Chenya makes a confused noise and shakes his head. "Perhaps it's my own decent streak showing, but I just can't see either of them doing this to you. It almost seems as though there's an unrelated third party lurking around..."

Trey frowns. "He said that he revealed his true face, but…” 

He said. Trey slowly shakes his head. “But why would I trust him? Could it really be a stranger?” 

He exhales slowly. The thought is strangely relieving, even though he’s even more convinced than ever that he has to find Rook and Cater to protect them. A stranger…

"This awful person certainly has no reason to tell you the truth," Chenya agrees. "But perhaps not a stranger... not if they are this familiar with you."

Trey nods grimly, then jumps a little as his phone buzzes once in his pocket. He takes it out, heart leaping into his throat as he sees another new text.

Unknown #: You have a bad habit of cheating. 

He grits his teeth, and lets out a long, shaky sigh as he types a reply.

Trey Clover:

Well you’re not exactly playing fair yourself. 

Unknown #: Is that so? 

There's a brief pause, and then a picture comes through. It was taken from the street through the window of the bakery, and shows Chenya hugging a numb, exhausted-looking Trey.

"Trey...?" Chenya looks at him uncertainly.

"Right, right... Chenya, I fucked up," Trey shows him the most recent message with a shaking hand. "He knows... He knows."

"What?" Chenya looks at the messages, and then jumps back with a tiny, startled noise. "HE’S HERE?"

Trey’s phone buzzes again before he can answer, and then another message appears.

Unknown #: Your schedule is getting moved up. One hour. Go to the address I gave you. 

There's a pause, and then a picture comes through. It shows Rook and Cater sitting side by side on their knees, gagged and bound with duct tape. A figure clad entirely in black silk is holding their heads up by their hair to force their faces upward for the picture.

Unknown #: We're waiting. 

"No... NO! Chenya-" Trey drops everything, mind slamming back into panic mode. He thought he had more time! "We’ve gotta stop him! We'll save Rook and Cater... You... You're going to use your UM, and I’ll distract him..."

"YES. We'll both go together, and it'll be two-on-one, and OOH. If I can get magestones to Rook and Cater, it will be FOUR on one..." Chenya jams a hand sideways into nothing, and it vanishes up to his shoulder as he feels around in thin air. He pulls it back a moment later with a fistful of magestone pens. "That could work!"

"I have one hour. I think you should be hiding, maybe scouting ahead, but CAREFULLY," Trey runs out into his kitchen, shoving a hand into his own pocket to double-check that he still has his own magestone pen. "He wants me, so I'll be the decoy. And…”

Trey slowly looks up at the planter box in his kitchen window. And if this goes sideways, then he’ll do what he must to make sure that everyone is safe. “If I have to, I’ll offer him an ultimatum.”

“Hidden! I can be hidden!!” Chenya vanishes with a faint pop of displaced air, then continues in a voice that’s muffled and slightly echoed.  “What do you mean an ultimatum?”

"Chenya, I need you to get Cater and Rook out of there. Understand?" Trey starts breaking leaves off the foxglove and belladonna plants.

“I understand.” Chenya appears hanging upside-down in the air over Trey’s planter box, looking quizzically down at his hands. “Ah yes. These are plants.” He nods firmly, then looks up at Trey with a blank smile. “Why plants?” 

“They’re special… I started growing them just in case. Don’t worry about it.” Trey smiles faintly as he pours hot water into a thermos, and then tosses the toxic leaves inside. 

[dagger-n-ravvi]

Chapter 10: Who Do You Trust?

Trey copes with the aftermath of the night before, and a new demand from the stalker.

Warnings include aftermath of sexual assault, aftermath of non-consensual drugging, and mental/emotional breakdown

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A03 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49350448?view_full_work=true

Trey wakes up slowly, aching and in pain. He reaches for his face with a shaking hand, clumsily palming his overly sensitive eyes. His mind is foggy, and he feels sick. 

He manages to sit up, and a white napkin slips off his chest. He watches it flutter to the floor with bleary confusion, and then his eyes catch the window...

His ass stings and clenches. His cock throbs... 

He jerks to the side and dry heaves over the floor. He ate… almost nothing yesterday, and it’s bitterly painful as his stomach pulls itself into a cramped, empty knot. He pants and whimpers brokenly, eyes burning with tears that can’t seem to fall as he struggles to pull himself together. What happened? He remembers… some things. But... so fuzzy… like a nightmare.

Is this… is this his punishment for killing Riddle’s mother…?

He presses one hand tightly over his mouth and looks up at the window. It must have been that window. It's the only one that's angled out over the city, and now that he’s really looking, he can tell that it’s been intentionally strengthened to let someone lie against it and admire the view. It even has handles on the window frame to help you pull yourself back up…

But it's clean. No smears. No marks. No... no fluids.

Trey forces himself onto his hands and knees, and then up to his feet. What time…? He needs… to see the time…

He staggers into the kitchen, leaning hard against the counter as he squints at the microwave. The clock on the display says that it's 06:17 AM. He’s arrived there just in time for the little green numbers to tick over. 06:18 AM…

Ha… He's late for work.

"... Heh... Ahahahahaha..." Trey begins to laugh uncontrollably, slipping off the counter and falling to the marble floor. The laughter dissolves into gasps, and then into wretched, heaving sobs and he curls himself into a ball, hugging his arms tight to his face and chest.

He cries on the floor, until his eyes burn and his throat feels dry and sore. His chest is full of awful, searing heat, and yet he can’t stop shivering.

He feels… so alone. 

His sobs slowly weaken into sniffles, and then into tiny, hitched exhales. His entire face feels swollen and he hurts everywhere… 

Feeling eggshell hollow, he slowly pulls himself to his feet again. He’s exhausted, and his body feels so slow and heavy that it might have been dipped into concrete. He turns on the sink, shakily wets his hand, and then presses the water to his stinging eyes. First the right… then the left…

“Nughhhh…” he rinses off his nose, then his eyes again, letting the cold ease the puffiness. Then he cups a hand and drinks, gasping through his mouth between sips. Soreness eased, he turns off the faucet and leans over the counter, pressing his cheek into the countertop and just breathing. The marble is cool against his swollen eyes. He closes them and sinks into the feeling, sniffing weakly to clear his stuffy nose. His sinuses are so swollen that it feels like someone punched him in the face…

”So Trey~ Who do you think I really am? I showed you one true face tonight~” 

One true face… had he really?

Chenya… Cater… Rook. 

Distantly, Trey thinks back to that first night. The stalker showed up out of nowhere, and shortly after Rook had disappeared. Would Rook have had enough time to get back into his apartment unseen?

Maybe. Trey literally found the man perched on half an inch of window ledge, thirty feet above the ground. Physically, he's more than capable of running around the block, changing his clothes with magic, and then jumping back up to his window. But that seems far fetched, especially when he was at least lightly sedated.

Then Chenya...? 

As much as it tears at his heart to think about it, Chenya would have a laughably easy time getting in and out of his bedroom unseen. His unique magic allows him to evaporate from the primary plane of existence and, in his own words, 'Dance between the threads that weave the fabric of reality.’ He can essentially teleport, and he's used that skill before to sneak around for pranks and giggles. But never... 

He weakly closes his eyes with a thin whimper. Never like that. 

Which leaves Cater. 

Cater… 

He didn’t see Cater at all that night. How would he have even snuck into his apartment? And if he had, how could he possibly have hidden from ROOK of all people? Cater is no slouch when it comes to magic. He’s a Night Raven graduate just like him, after all. But he doesn't have any special skills that would prevent detection. Certainly nothing that would keep Rook from sniffing him out.

But…

Cater IS the most avid photographer of the three of them. The way the stalker dragged him into the light. The way the shots were framed. To be fair, Rook is probably good at taking pictures too, after spending all that time working with Vil. But still…

Trey shudders weakly. It became clear after the stalker's first little 'face reveal' that the mask of their outfit was magically equipped to produce illusions. Damn good illusions too. They even tasted the way he'd imagine...? Oh god, how would they even know what his friends tasted like unless...?

He covers his mouth with a hand and takes a slow, stuffy inhale, staring out at the marble countertop. He’s getting snot all over it, and it probably costs more than his entire bakery. This ridiculous penthouse hotel room… 

Extremely expensive and ridiculous. Who has this kind of money?! Chenya is easily the wealthiest of his friends, and Rook could probably afford to throw away a few thousand thaumarks on a penthouse hotel room. Cater is the least well-off, but… if he HAD found a way to afford it, then he would have had the easiest time setting up and using all those cheap, wireless cameras. The cameras… the little cat-and-mouse game with the text messages…

Trey slowly pushes himself upright and stares blearily out at the living room window again. Rook would have picked this out just for that terrifying, hellishly exposed view. Rook is also the most adept at potions and drugs, and his eye is more than precise enough to perfectly gauge Trey's weight to know how heavily to dose him…

But Chenya is also very good with drugs. Trey had walked in on him a couple times, giggling to himself and staring at nothing after dosing himself with magic mushrooms. 

And Cater…? He’s never seen Cater mess with drugs before, but it’s been more than a year since he last saw him.

Spiraling, thoughts going nowhere, Trey limps into the bathroom, arms wrapped tight around his chest. He passes through the bedroom, and the bed brings back an awful, vivid memory of Cater's face, leering down at him and demanding he open his mouth. 

More photos.

The bathroom brings back a heavily tactile memory of Chenya's coarse, sweet tongue pulling across the sensitive skin of his neck. He closes his eyes and forces himself to step into the shower anyway, to turn the water on, and to start washing…

He realizes after a long moment that he’s been scrubbing his inner thighs hard enough to make the skin tingle and burn. He curls his hands into fists and presses his forehead against the wall behind the sprayer, letting the warm water just run over his head and back. 

He stays like that for a long time, trying not to think about anything at all.

He feels somehow even more exhausted when he finally shuts off the water and steps out of the shower. His body feels alien and overly complicated, like a suit of armour that he’s wearing backward and on all the wrong limbs.

The strange disconnection fades a little as he gets dried off, and dressed. His clothes are in a neatly folded pile on top of the bathroom counter. They've been washed and smell faintly of laundry soap. His phone is in one of the pockets. He pulls it out and automatically thumbs open the lock screen. There are two new messages:

Cater: Heeeey, looks like you needed to sleep in. No biggie, Imma bum around town today. Gimme a text if you feel up to hanging out or something, but no pressure. Feel better!  Unknown #: I didn't realize you would be staying at the Caucus Race hotel tonight~ If you would like companionship, I have an extra ticket to an opera performance at the downtown theatre. A gesture of forgiveness, if I may, for disrupting your evening the other night. -Rook Hunt 

Trey reads the messages over and over again, then sets the phone down with a shaky sigh. He can barely focus on what’s happening. The wireless cameras from yesterday are gone. The jewelry box that held the rufis is missing…

But he does remember that whoever the stalker is, they threatened to kidnap his friends. That realization still has a kernel of dread and panic in it. An impulse that makes him want to find that fucking stalker and beat him to death. Or maybe just burst into tears again. If he can’t save himself, then at least…

He gathers up his suitcase, and then walks back out of the bedroom. As he’s about to leave, a slip of crumpled white catches his eye on the floor where he was lying. The napkin he woke up with…?

He sets his suitcase down and walks over to pick it up. The back is embossed with the cursive, ‘Caucus Race’ logo, and black sharpie has bled through it from the other side. He turns it over.

Carpenter Beach, Warehouse 12. 

6:00 PM 

He stares faintly at the note for a long moment, and then laughs softly. Hand-written. They left him a handwritten note, and then claimed they were one of three people. He can check his yearbook from his senior year at NRC and compare the writing. He just needs to get home... 

“You fucked up…” he says softly, then tucks the napkin into his pocket.

He takes the elevator back to the lobby, and then walks up to the front desk.

"Hi, I have some questions,” he smiles at the attendant from yesterday.

"Good morning sir! Please ask.” 

“My friend is staying here, in room 1005? His name is Rook Hunt, and I think I have him to thank for my recent stay. Is he still here?” Trey gives her a pleasant smile that he doesn’t feel.

"Oh… I'm very sorry sir, but I cannot give out the personal information of our guests. If you would like, I could call up to his room and let him know that you are looking for him?" 

Trey keeps his smile, but internally quails. He doesn’t want Rook to know that he was looking for him. “Mmm… Can you tell me whether he’s been through here this morning?”

"I'm afraid not sir. Company policy strictly prohibits us from relaying personal information about our guests, unless perhaps he is your partner, or under your care as a dependent? If that is the case, then all we need to see is a notarized document and we will do everything in our power to assist you," she says with soft sympathy. She probably thinks was stood up by an uncaring lover. Trey decides to kean into that a little, giving her a sad smile.

“I see. So unless I have proof that he’s my partner I can’t know anything about him.”

"Company policy, sir. I'm very sorry. I can call the manager if you would like to speak with him?"

Trey shakes his head with a depressed sigh. “I was hoping that I could surprise him. May I send something up to his room instead? For room service?”

"We could accommodate that! What do you have in mind?"

“Could you send up breakfast to him? Use the card that booked the suit I was staying in last night.” Trey smiles, happy that he can get that at least.

"Of course. Any specifics on the breakfast sir? Our eggs benedict is quite good, and we have a large variety of danishes."

“Hmm… That sounds good. Can you send this note along with it?” 

She nods, and Trey takes a piece of the hotel stationary and writes. 

Thank you, but I’m afraid I must go. Take care of yourself. 

He hands it over to the attendant, folded up. His chest feels tight. “Thanks…”

"Of course, sir. Is there anything else I can do for you?" She tucks the note away into a little cubby. 

“No… thank you.” Trey takes a deep breath and leaves the hotel. He needs to get home and compare the writing. But what next? What is the best way to protect his friends? 

He takes out his phone and texts Cater. If he can find everyone… get them all into the same room and just see them all, then maybe…

Trey Clover:

Sorry. Want to get breakfast? My treat. 

A set of ellipsis pop up on the screen, followed by a message:

Cater: Cater can't come to the phone right now. He's a little... tied up. 

Panic surges through the pit of Trey’s stomach. He immediately taps the call button and puts the phone to his ear. “Pick up… pick up…”

“Hey, hey~! You've reached the one and only Cay Cay! Sing your song at the beep~” 

“I need you to listen to me, now. You better leave the people that I love OUT of this. It’s over…” Trey hangs up, and then hails a cab, trying desperately to keep himself from bursting into tears again.

As he steps out of the cab in front of his shop, he can see a few people milling around the outside, peeking in hopefully. The 'closed' sign is still up on the door, but the lights inside are on. Someone is inside.

[dagger-n-ravvi]

Chapter 9: Up to the Highest Height

The stalker uses Rook’s face to torment Trey for the final time that night. He leaves Trey with one truth, and it tears at his heart.

This is the last chapter that has sexual assault. There is a summary if you want to skip. Warnings include sexual assault, non-con/rape, non-drug use, forced orgasm.

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A03 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49350448?view_full_work=true

Rook scoops Trey up into a bridal carry and walks with him out of the bedroom, and then over to the floor-to-ceiling windows. The ones wrapped around the corner of the room are tilted inward, making a shallow ramp that’s probably intended for moderately insane people to lean against for thrill-seeking purposes. Trey is not one of those people. When Rook presses him up against the glass, he freezes, utterly convinced that the window is about to break. 

“Magnifique. The view of the sunset over the city is only eclipsed by the vision of you. I might die happy having seen you together, with the rosy light so kindly washing your features, beautiful Trey.”

“No… ” Trey cringes and flails weakly, trying to push away from the window. The glass is cold against his bare skin, and his head spins as he stares down at the cars and pedestrians wandering below. They’re the size of ants!

Rook presses a line of gentle, worshipful kisses down the side of his neck and his fingers curl around the base of his cock, giving it a deft, generous stroke. He can barely feel it over his growing panic. 

"Not here. Please… " Trey whimpers. The idea that someone might see him despite the height is silly, but the exposure and Rook's words together are making him feel as though he’s terrifyingly on display for the entire world. 

“Here~” Rook insists in a low whisper. “In the presence of the sun’s final, beautiful gift before nightfall.”

“ Stop-” Trey struggles to push himself away from the glass. His clumsy attempt pushes him directly into Rook’s arms, and the stalker’s cock pushes frictionlessly between his legs, thoroughly lubricated by the earlier deepthroat.

“So eager? Are you moved by the beauty of the sunset as I am?” Rook croons. There’s a rustle behind him, and then Rook deftly opens a condom with his teeth and one hand before pulling back just enough to roll it onto his cock.

"N-no! Glass… glass breaks?!" Trey gasps as the tip of Rook’s cock presses snugly against his ass. His stomach twists at the pressure-

“Be gentle and still for me as the work of art that you are, and the glass will not break,” Rook promises softly. “Look down upon your audience, Chevalier. If only they could see you and be moved to tears as I am…” 

He pushes forward, nudging Trey’s hips firmly against the glass as he begins to sink inside, preparing to fuck him right up against a window that’s literally looking down over half the city. Trey's face couldn't be redder, and his stomach couldn't feel any tighter. He shudders and pants, whimpering helplessly as the Rook persistently spreads him open. His fear and the drugs fight with each other, making his vision blur as his body struggles to stay tense, and his panting fogs up the glass.

"I... don't want this... Not here-!" He cries out as the tip of Rook’s cock pops inside and the rest quickly follows, penetrating him in a single, quick stroke. 

“Aaaah!” Trey screams, flinching hard and weakly flexing as his hands reflexively try to find something to hold onto. He can’t stop looking down at the ground and feeling terrified to the point of tears…

“Shhhhhh~” Rook’s silk-covered fingers slip over and into his mouth, pulling gently over his tongue with a hint of salt from his own precum. The invasive grip pulls his face back a little from the window, easing the discomfort.

“Your fear has an allure all its own. I can hear your heart racing…”

Rook’s free hand strokes the shaft of Trey’s cock again, and he pushes forward, pushing in as deep as he can go.

“Hnngh!!!”

“I can taste your sweat~” Teeth graze the side of his neck and the hips pull back a little before bucking hard against his ass.

"OOOOOOOOAAAAAAW!" Trey lets out a strangled cry as Rook begins to pound into him, making wet smacking sounds and pushing him into the glass over and over and over. His knees weaken, muscles squeeze down hard and his chest fluttering with broken, hitched pants. It’s going to break, it’s going to break, stop stop stop stop-! 

Rook buries himself and then pauses, fingers continuing to tease at Trey’s shaft and the head of his cock. “I would do this with you every night… bringing you to the peak of pleasure where everyone can see. Night after night, again and again, and again~”

"Haaa... haaaa..." Trey's muscles convulse helplessly around Rook’s shaft, and sweat beads along his back and chest. Rook nuzzles into his cheek, and Trey can see his reflection faintly in the glass, looking back at him with the rapture of someone looking into the face of an angel. It’s almost worse than the terrifying view, and the fragile pane of glass between him and a fall from the top floor of a skyscraper. Because he can fully believe that Rook would look at him just like this… adoring… worshipful… 

“Until every time you see a window you think of me, and how I show you off to the world. And your body tightens in anticipation~”

His fingers give his cock a long, squeezing stroke, and his hips press firmly to his, keeping him filled and pinned helplessly in place. Trey trembles. His eyes focus weakly on the reflection, hating the sight of his own, tear-streaked eyes and trembling lips. He hates that his body had started to loosen its grip, succumbing to the drugs and the sexual assault. He can feel his stomach tightening at the next stroke, his cock twitching in the stalker’s hands. Little whimpers and moans bubble up past the fingers in his mouth and his thighs quake. He lightly shakes his head, closing his eyes. Rook’s hand immediately lets go of his cock and gives his ass a firm, stinging slap.

"AH!" Trey's eyes snap open, his ass tightening.

“Eyes open. Keep them open. I want you to see your audience as you come.” Trey chokes out a sob, keeping his eyes open as he stares down this sloped window. His full weight is on it now, and the mix of fear and pleasure is turning his thoughts into a hazy mess. "Ahh... ahhhhh..."

Rook starts to fuck him at that same slow, rolling pace as the stalker had used last night. Every thrust pushes his hips into the window and scrubs over his inner sensitive spot, until he has to hold onto Trey’s hips to keep his knees from buckling. The glass below his cock quickly becomes warm and slippery, providing nothing but a hint of pressure, and agonizingly little friction. Rook’s reflection stares back at him, eyes hooded and lips slightly parted in fervent pleasure. His breath has picked up and Trey can feel him panting against the side of his neck, hot and eager.

“Do you think I can bring you to pleasure just like this? Perhaps if I continue… deep and slow, for as long as you need~”

Rook presses a gentle, sucking kiss to the side of his neck.

“Mmmm, it would be a beautiful sight. Knowing that you came barely touched and aching~

“Haaa… aaaaahhh… aaahhh! Ooh… ohhh…” Trey’s eyes roll back, his cock leaking precum against the glass. He stares at Rook’s reflection in the glass, eyes watering as he tries to decide whether this really is Rook or just another lie. Why does it sound so much like him?!

“Moved by the beauty of the sunset and the knowledge that of every gem in this city, you are the most gloriously displayed, and shine the brightest tonight.”

His fingers trail oh-so-gently over the head of Trey’s cock, pressing teasingly into the little slit at the tip to smear precum into his silk gloves.

“AAAH-“ Trey’s body tightens down, and his face flushes bright red. Tears fall down his cheeks as he cums, spattering the window and the front of his thighs. Rook’s expression dissolves into pleasure and a full throated moan as he fucks Trey through the orgasm, drawing it out into wave after wave of pleasure and knee-buckling aftershocks before he finally buries himself and comes.

“Chevalier ~” He presses a deep, worshipful kiss to the crook of Trey’s neck, and his reflection looks up at Trey with intense, tearful gratitude and love…

The reflection fades into the black, faceless mask, and silky fingers gently stroke Trey’s hair, dirtying it with traces of his own cum.

”So Trey~ Who do you think I really am? I showed you one true face tonight~” 

Their cock softens inside him as the stalker continues holding him against the window. It’s almost fully dark now… the stars are coming out…

“You have until tomorrow at sunset to find out. Because then, I’ll be permanently borrowing your friends.” 

Trey groans with hazy, overwhelmed relief as they finally pull him away from the window and set him on the floor. They crush their mouth to his in a deep, possessive kiss, and then stroke his cheek.

”They’re getting in our way. You don’t need anyone but ME. Enjoy the room~ But not too much.” 

They gently place a white, paper napkin in the center of his chest.

”We’ve got a big day tomorrow and I don’t want you to miss it.” 

Trey blinks slowly, feeling as though he’s slowly falling down a very deep, and dark hole. “Who… you… ” 

He trails off and his body goes limp as he falls into darkness.

[dagger-n-ravvi]

Chapter 8: Three is a Party

The stalker assaults Trey while using the faces of his friends.

There is a summary for those who would prefer to skip this chapter.

Warnings include sexual assault, noncon, forced oral sex, mind fuck and non-consensual photography.

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A03 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49350448?view_full_work=true

“Please…” he begs. “Please keep the mask on… don’t torment me like this…” 

“But you love me~” 

Chenya is back, beaming down at him with genuine, gentle joy. He picks up the shower sprayer and turns it on, aiming it toward the drain as he waits for the water to warm.

“Not like this,” Trey whispers pleadingly. He can see now that the mask itself is changing to make the stalker’s face look like Chenya’s. It’s just an illusion…

“I would lick you clean but this is the easier path.” He pulls Trey into a sitting position and curls up behind him, cradling his body in his lap. “You made such a sweaty mess of yourself.” 

"D-don’t... don’t use their faces…" Trey shudders as Chenya begins to spray him off, letting the warm water linger teasingly against his cock and the insides of his thighs. He groans, trembling and unable to hide as his cock slowly grows and hardens. The drug that the stalker tricked him into taking is making his head so fuzzy… it’s hard to focus… 

“Are these really the lengths I must go to in order to take care of you?” Chenya presses a kiss to the side of his neck, and then begins licking him anyway, fingers trailing over his chest as he keeps the sprayer angled lovingly against his cock. “Relax and enjoy this, sweet Trey. Enjoy me~ ”

His coarse tongue pulls gently over the sensitive area at the crook of his neck and the underside of his jaw, grooming him with a soft, throaty purr.

“Hnnnnnf-!” Trey shudders under the attention, fighting to hold his body’s reactions back. His eyes burn, and he deliberately looks away, refusing to see the face of his oldest friend on the body of this monster. If only he could also turn off his hearing. Chenya’s voice keeps chuckling in his ear as the stalker washes everything between his legs with invasive, deliberate care. His fingertips trace the rim of his ass with a light, fluttering touch, using warm water and pressure to tease at the sensitive opening. Trey’s breath hitches, core muscles tightening. 

“All clean now~” Chenya turns off the sprayer, and then presses a loving kiss between Trey’s teeth that changes from sweet and coarse, to bitter and soft.

“Selfie!” Cater sings, pulling out his phone. He arranges Trey’s head against his shoulder, then holds out a hand at arms’ length and makes a peace sign with the other.

“Smile~”

“Nnnnnnn…” Trey moans, weakly trying to hide his face from the camera. Not again... 

“Don’t be so shy! C’mere~” Cater puts the phone away and tucks his hands under his armpits, hauling him upright and carrying him out of the bathroom and over to the bed. “Ohhhh, now THIS is plush. Red is the perfect contrast for your hair Trey-Trey~”

He drapes Trey across the pillows on his back, eagerly biting his lip. Trey turns his face away, trembling as he’s intentionally positioned in a lewd, ‘waiting for you’ pose with his hands over his chest and his legs spread apart. Cater’s phone clicks over and over, taking picture after picture. He changes his position a few times, from his back, to his belly, to his side, manipulating and posing his limbs like they belong to a living doll

“So prettyyyyy. Stay nice and hard for me though! You’re a grower and I wanna get your full size~!” 

Trey flinches as Cater grabs his cock and gives it a brisk rub. He coos in appreciation as it stiffens responsively, and takes another photo.

“Yeahhhh~ That’s better. Now show me how good you are at putting things in your mouth.”

He pulls Trey over to the foot of the bed and positions him so that his head is tilted backward over the edge of the mattress and his face is upside-down.

“Say ‘ahh-hhhh’ ~”

“Nnngh?” Trey flinches as Cater rubs his crotch lightly against his lips, very obviously about to make good on his earlier promise to put something of his own in there . “If… if I do… will you let me go…?”

“If Cay-Cay told you yes, would you believe him?” Silk-clad fingers brush gently over Trey’s cheeks, making goosebumps ripple across his neck and chest.

“… Yes?” Trey shudders, staring pleadingly up at the stalker. He has Cater’s face down perfectly, right to that cute, overgrown fang on his left side…

“Open up~” Fingers trail teasingly over his lips, then press insistently against his chin. Trey whimpers softly, then opens up his mouth and closes his eyes. He doesn’t want to see this… he doesn’t want Cater’s face to be the one that his mind remembers doing… doing this to him...

The tip of a warm, hard cock presses teasingly over his lips, intentionally smearing them with precum before slipping experimentally between his teeth.

“Ohhhh, fuck me ~” Cater shivers eagerly. “That is fucking HOT.” 

A hand wraps around the back of Trey’s neck, and then the sound of a photo being taken comes from above him. 

“Does this do anything for you~?” Cater’s free hand strokes his cheek as he rocks lightly into Trey’s mouth. “You’ve got that weird toothbrush fetish. Oral fixation~?”

“Ah… ghhhnk…” Trey forces himself to keep his mouth open, flushing at the mention of his toothbrushes. That isn’t a sexual thing! It’s just NOT. The accusation along with the smell and salty taste makes him badly want to bite down and hurt them. He breathes hard through his nose and tries to tuck his tongue out of the way, pulling it back to guard his throat.

“Unggk!” His lips tighten around their shaft as it twitches inside his mouth, and silky fingers rub slow, little circles into his cheeks.  'Okay... okay... they're in my mouth... think about different things, anything else. Don't think about it being Cater or you'll puke, and this might get even worse if you do that... Oh Seven…’ 

He gingerly uncurls his tongue, giving the shaft a tentative lick. If he can get them off, will they stop and leave him alone…? This isn’t the first time he’s done this, so he does more or less know what would feel good…

“Mmm... Nnnn... Gugh… guugh… gugh… Ish thish... ghood enoff?” His eyes tear up as he bites the bullet and begins clumsily sucking them off. It’s a tiny comfort that he isn’t wearing his glasses, and the face above him is blurred enough that he can block it out.

“Uh huh~” Cater’s face is deeply flushed, and he’s holding his phone in a way that makes it look like he’s taking a video. “Keep going.” 

The intrusion into his mouth keeps twitching and stiffening in a way that makes his body tighten and draws his attention to his mouth in an undeniably erotic way. Trey whimpers, awkwardly continuing. There isn’t a lot he can do with his head craned backward like this, even if he wasn’t so drugged that he can barely lift his hands. He falls limp after only a few minutes, panting heavily. He needs a break… 

“Awww, you’re leaking~” A finger lightly traces the tip of his cock, smearing a bead of precum that’s formed at the tip. “Figures that YOU would have an oral fixation a MILE wide.”

Trey exhales angrily through his nose, squinting up at Cater as he finally puts the stupid phone into a pocket and wraps both hands under the back of his neck.

“How deep can you take me? Can you get it all the way in~?”

He pushes deeper, gently testing the pliancy of Trey’s throat. Trey's face flushes bright pink, and he reflexively arches his head back. "Ggguh-" 

Heat surges into the pit of his stomach, cock tightening as his throat flexes around the intrusion. A thin rivulet of saliva drips from the corner of his mouth, and his eyes go unfocused and hazy. He can barely breathe, and his throat keeps weakly pulling tight around the head of Cater’s cock, making wanton, wet noises as his body helplessly trembles. That… oh fuck- 

“That’s gorgeous~”

Silky hands stroke his cheeks in slow, comforting circles as they sink deeper, until Trey’s chin is brushing lightly against their pubic mound. He can’t breathe at all. His mind goes blank and he moans faintly, core muscles fluttering and tongue curled helplessly around their shaft. His throat flexes again, making him shiver at the visceral pressure and fundamental pleasure of having his mouth so thoroughly filled.

“Hold it like that~”

There’s another click as they take a photo, and then they pull all the way back out with a long sigh. Trey convulses and twists his head to one side, coughing up a mouthful of thick, sticky saliva. He hears another ‘click’ as Carer takes advantage of the moment and gets a mortifyingly candid shot of his spit-covered face.

“You got me so haaaard, but Cay Cay did pwomise to let you go, didn’t he?” Cater says in a babyish tone, tipping his face upward and fondly squeezing his cheeks together. 

"Ggghaaaaa... haaa... haaa..." Trey groans, face a slippery mess, and cock throbbing needily. Cater leans down, fingers tangling into his hair and tongue pulling over his lips in an upside-down, sloppy kiss. The taste of coffee fades, and then completely disappears into a hint of wild spice.

“And so Cater has let you go~” Rook breaks the kiss, gently petting his hair. “And now I have your radiance all to myself.”

[dagger-n-ravvi]

Chapter 7: Fifteen Minutes

Trey confronts the stalker in the penthouse suite of the Caucus Race hotel.

This one is a little lighter, but there is a summary for those who would prefer to skip this chapter.

Warnings include depictions of violence, non-consensual drugging, coercion/mind games, psychological torture, and non-consensual kissing/undressing.

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A03 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49350448?view_full_work=true

Trey gets off the bed, then heads into the bathroom. He fills a glass of water, and then plucks the pills out of the jewelry box. Ok, now to fake taking them…

He makes a show of knocking them back, and then drains the glass of water. There, that should…

His phone buzzes. Trey chokes on the water, then coughs harshly. He presses the back of one wrist over his mouth to suppress another cough, and fumbles for his phone with his other.

Unknown #: Seriously? 

Dammit. He quickly types back:

Trey Clover:

What? I took them. 

Unknown #: Left hand. I wasn't born yesterday. Try using Paint the Roses to change them into sugar pills next, I dare you. 

Trey freezes, then stares down at the pills in his hand. That… that actually isn’t a bad idea. It’s risky, but if he really pushes himself, then he can keep these changed for about fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes… and then he has this room all to himself until tomorrow afternoon. Plenty of time…

This whole, stupid thing has given him a headache anyway.

‘Paint the Roses.’ He silently changes them into Tylenol, and swallows them dry. They’re so tiny that they go down easily enough. With a little shiver, he glares at his reflection in the mirror, half convinced that he can feel them sliding all the way down to his stomach.

"Happy?" 

There's a soft, almost inaudible click, as though someone just turned the doorknob on the front door. His phone buzzes once.

Unknown #: Yes <3 

"You-!" He sprints out of the bathroom, wand out and ready. The front door is closed, and there's no one standing in either the kitchen, or the living room. There's a moment of confused, tense silence...

And then the knob falls off the front door and tumbles to the floor with a sharp tink of metal on marble. Trey raises an eyebrow, then picks it up and leans forward to look at the gap in the door where it was. There’s a small, circular hole through the wood. Through it, he can see the hallway and the elevator beyond...

And a figure clad entirely in a snug, black bodysuit staring back at him. They give him a little wave with a long, yellow screwdriver, and then pull a phone out of their pocket and rapidly tap at the screen with a thumb.

Unknown #: Nice try. I said no cheating. 

They turn their phone around. A fifteen minute countdown timer is slowly ticking away on the screen. Trey draws himself back up to his full height and gives the door a furious glare. That bastard.

“Paint the Roses.” He gives the door a firm shove. The metal lock snaps apart and crumbles like the cookie he overwrote its characteristics with. "Don't you DARE think you won."

The figure in black shifts their posture, looking a little surprised as they take a half step back.

"Ooooh you thought you had me figured out?” Pieces of the broken lock crunch under his shoes, turning into brass, cookie crumb-sized pieces as he angrily lifts the spell. “Looks like we both know that I only have fifteen minutes. Doesn’t matter. I can finish this in five." 

Trey lifts his pen to levitate the stalker and drag them close enough to get his hands on them. He was pretty sure that they were a mage, and they immediately confirm that by deflecting his spell and throwing out a hand to slam the door closed again with wind magic. Trey lunges forward and jams his arm through the doorway to block it.

“AH!” He yelps as the door smacks him hard enough to leave a bruise. “YOU-!” 

He slams the door open with his shoulder and storms into the hallway. The stalker backs away, chuckling as a magestone begins to glow faintly underneath the bodysuit at the center of their neck. Trey pauses, eyeing it warily.

"You know? I actually believe that you could kill me and then hide the evidence in under fifteen minutes,” they say in a voice he now realizes is being magically distorted. “Tell you what. If that's really what you want, then go ahead." 

They hold out their arms in a mocking gesture of welcome. "Show me what you've got." 

“STOP PLAYING WITH ME!” Trey hurls a wall of wind magic down the hallway. The figure goes flying backward and hits the elevator doors with a loud clang and a distorted grunt. They fall to their knees with a long, eerie laugh. 

"Cute~" 

Trey lunges at them. They throw up a hand and he runs head-long into a barrier that they’ve cast across the hallway.

“AGH-“ He stumbles back a step, glasses falling halfway off his face.

"You’re holding back on meeee~" They rise to their feet. Trey backs up a step, panting heavily and shoving his glasses back into place. He IS holding back. Keeping his unique magic up on the mystery pills is splitting his focus and starting to strain his magic pool. If he could drop that spell…

Using ‘Paint the Roses’ in a lethal way is horrible, but he knows for a fact that overwriting someone’s blood with bleach kills them extremely fast. If he could just focus…

Impulsively, he reaches into his mouth with two fingers and tries to make himself throw up. He’s never done it before, and all he can think about is how stupidly white the carpet is as he tries and fails to make himself gag hard enough to bring up the pills.

"Stop that. You should know by now that I don't want to hurt you." 

The stalker stands up and walks forward until they're just behind the barrier. Trey tries again, harder.

"Go back to the room." 

They begin to walk forward, pushing the barrier down the hall along with them until it's directly in front of him. Trey yanks his fingers out of his mouth and holds out his pen, panting hard. "Just lie down and let it happen." 

"Shit... " Trey throws a sharp blast of wind magic at them to try and break the barrier. It shudders, but doesn't break. “Treyyyyyy~” The stalker chuckles, then takes another step forward. Trey stumbles back a step as the barrier lightly bumps across the front of his body. 

“Fuck- " He sprints back into the room and slams the front door closed. He hastily repairs the lock to slow them down, and then sprints into the bathroom. He has to get these pills out of his body, now. 

“Hhrk-“ He tries to gag himself with his fingers again. His stomach is fighting him, and now all he can think about is how he never really had trouble brushing the back of his tongue with his toothbrush before. Great, he was throwing up JUST FINE earlier, and now he suddenly has a stomach made of cast iron?!

The front door clicks, and that eerie, distorted voice snickers as the stalker walks up to the bathroom. They knock teasingly on the closed door.

“Occupied~?” The door rattles, and then slams open. Trey staggers to his feet, turning to face them. They rush him and grab at his arms, shoving him back into the wall.

“I didn't know… that you had such a resilient throat~" They pant, giggling and trying to grab his magestone pen out of his hand. "Why don't I put… something of my own in there… since you seem to like choking yourself so much?" 

“No thanks-!” Trey gasps, trying to elbow them in the face. They shove him into the wall again, hard enough to make his glasses jostle out of place and fall to the floor. 

“You don’t get to say no to me.” 

They shove him sideways and he falls awkwardly across the bathtub, hitting his elbow on the side and yanking down the curtain. It falls on him in a heap of heavy velvet and vinyl fabric. He flails, managing to throw it off right before the stalker jumps into the tub with him and straddles his hips. “NNNGH-!” Trey wrenches a hand free and gropes at their face, trying to yank the hood off. If he can’t get away from them, then at least he’ll find out who the hell this is. If he can just see their face…

Something nearby makes a flat, generic beeping sound, like an alarm for a timer…

”Oops… that means… your time is up~” the stalker pants with a cruel chuckle.

“NO!” Trey twists hard and finally manages to grab ahold of the mask…

And then he feels something snap inside him, and ‘Paint the Roses’ finally breaks. 

“Ghhhhk…” Trey groans as the room immediately starts to spin. His fingers slip off the silk mask, slipping weakly off the bodysuit as his arm weakens, suddenly seeming impossibly far away. His hand falls to his side, fingers too heavy to even pull them into a fist. He feels sick, and dizzy… 

“Ah… aaaah… I… nooooo…” He arches feebly, chest burning as disbelief and dread surge through his body. It feels like someone is pouring hot tea through his chest...

”I have a secret for you,” The stalker leans in close, tugging the mask up to bare their mouth. “That drug takes as long to take effect as you were able to keep it changed. You played yourself.” 

They give his earlobe a teasing nip with their teeth, then push a hand up under his shirt and jacket with an eager shiver.

“Ohhhh, you got so sweaty~”  

“S-stop… please…” Trey lets out a shuddering cry, goosebumps spreading over his skin. He really did play himself. He feels so stupid… 

"No... H-how... how do... how could you know... f-fifteen?" He squirms feebly as they palm his chest. He doesn’t understand. How could they know so much about his unique magic that they could set a timer counting down the minutes that he was able to keep the spell up?! No one should know that much about him…

“I know everything about you~” 

“Everything? ” Trey repeats in a shaky whisper.

“That’s why I know you won’t go to the police, no matter what I do to you~” A hand creeps downward and pops open the fly of his pants.

“Mnnnffff-!” Trey squeezes his eyes shut as they grope the space between his legs and press a deep, greedy kiss between his teeth that tastes overwhelmingly of mint. They break the kiss a moment later, head tilted to one side as they fervently lick their lips.

“Ohhhhhh, I missed the way you taste.” 

They sit up and lazily tug off his shoes, tossing them out of the tub. Their fingers trail upward over the waistband of his pants, as though they’re teasing themselves with the idea of ripping them off. They hum longingly, and then leave them in place and move up to his shirt and jacket instead. 

“H-how…? Who are you?! I don’t understand.”

“You haven’t realized yet? Don’t you know who I am?” They tug the hem of his shirt up over his head like a blindfold and then teasingly grab his nose through the fabric. “I’m right here! Are you blind?” 

They give his nose a playful little shake, then tug the shirt up the rest of the way.

“I… nnngh…” Trey huffs, trembling as they toss his shirt out of the bathtub. Who… oh Seven. Who does he know who matches this height, who’s seen him using his unique magic…

Who has so much love for pictures, teasing and cameras?  

“C-Cater?” he whispers in horror. 

They drag his pants off with a little giggle. “Cater?” 

They straddle his freshly bared hips, then reach up to their face. Trey stares up at them as they slip their fingers underneath he mask and begin to push it up, cringing and shaking. ‘Please… please don’t let it be Cater, please please please… 

Cater’s sunny, cheerful smile beams down at him from under a mop of wavy orange hair. Trey begins to hyperventilate, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. Of course… OF COURSE. Cater wasn’t acting right, and the photos- 

“Hiya Trey Trey~ I did show up all of a sudden to help riiiight when you needed it most didn’t I? And you know how much I LOVE selfies~” He giggles, and then reaches up to cover his face with both hands. 

“Peekaboo!” The stalker opens up their hands, and now it’s Rook’s face peering down at him with a sly, knowing smile. “Chevalier De Roses~ You know better than to hide a secret from me. I saw how you coveted my body when you undressed me last night~ Were you truly so unhappy I had a little fun with you in return?”

“Rook?!” Trey does a double take, flushing with shame at the revelation that Rook was aware of what he did, “I- I didn’t hurt you! I just… I just-“

“Shhhh~” The stalker hides their face behind their hands again, and then opens them up a third time. Chenya’s lazy, purple head beams down at him, eccentric hair ornaments tinking lightly together.

“Chenya…?” Trey whispers, utterly unable to understand what is happening. Is Chenya…? Or… or are all three of them…? Are all three of them in on this?! That's… No, that makes no sense. 

“Penthouses are such purrrrrfect places for playtime with old friends. We have no secrets from each other, sweet Trey~ Your unique magic, your little accident with Riddle’s dear mother…”

The stalker leans forward and licks his cheek with Chenya’s slightly rough tongue. “But I don’t blame you. She had to go.”

Tears start pouring down Trey’s cheeks, and he weakly shakes his head. “I didn’t mean to. She tried to kill me. I… I didn’t want to die. And I didn’t want Riddle to know that I… please… ”

She had stormed into his apartment, throwing open his door with magic and screaming accusations that he had corrupted her son. Trey had tried to make her leave and then… 

A knife had flashed as it stabbed downward toward his chest, hurled at him by magic and a hysterical scream. 

“I didn’t know what to do, it happened so fast, ” Trey sobs. “I di-didn’t mean to…”

“I said I didn’t blame you, sweet Trey. You did what you had to do. Shhhh~,” Chenya’s tongue pushes comfortingly into his mouth, coarse and sweet as a cinnamon bun. Trey shivers with an unhappy moan, pressing his knees together as the textured tongue makes warmth flood across the space between his legs. No… this isn’t real. This stalker is just stealing the faces of his friends to torture him…

The tongue in his mouth smooths, and the taste fades into the faintest hint of something wild and spicy. Rook’s mouth breaks the kiss, and his hands lightly stroke down the full length of Trey’s body with a worshipful smile. 

“Le passion c’est beaute. You truly shine, beautiful Trey. What a pity that you hide this body from the world. I would display you as the gem you are, and never again would something so coarse as clothing obscure your radiance.”

“S-stop it-“ Trey whispers, then inhales sharply as Rook presses a deep, passionate kiss between his teeth. The taste changes again, growing bitter and aromatic like strong, black coffee. Cater’s mouth breaks the kiss, and he ever-so-lightly boops him on the nose with a silk-clad finger.

“I am so, fucking tired of fake people and fake friends, and leaving everyone I know behind. But you’re not going to leave me. You’ll be with me forever… ”

“Nnngh…” Trey cringes away from him, chest heaving with short, hard breaths. ‘ This is all just the mask on that bodysuit. It’s illusion magic… this stalker is just pretending to be my friends, it’s not actually them! It’s- ’

Cater crushes a kiss against his mouth that’s angry and forceful. The taste of coffee fades beneath the heavy flavour of mint, and when the stalker finally pulls back, the mask is back in place, showing just a slip of pale, thinly smiling mouth underneath.

“Or maybe you like it best when I have no face at all.” 

Trey just stares up at them, feeling scared, lightheaded, and desperately overwhelmed.

[dagger-n-ravvi]

Chapter 6: Checking In?

Trey is prepared to do what needs to be done. He checks into the Caucus Race Hotel, ready to face the stalker behind the text messages.

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A03 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49350448?view_full_work=true

Trey's eyes are glued to the picture. Flashes of last night start replaying in his mind, so powerfully that he can barely breathe. How could he trick himself into thinking that was a nightmare? They must have healed his neck, fixed his room, the buttons… How could he be so stupid?! 

He feels dizzy, and distantly realizes that he's swaying. He forces himself to take a breath, and then types back.

Trey Clover:

Who are you?! I'm going to call the police! 

Unknown #: Go ahead. I'll show them all my favorites. 

The next picture is blatantly of Trey's backside, lewdly spread to show off his ass and that stupid little clover tattoo.

Unknown #: Or maybe you can show them yourself. 

Trey lying on his back, barely conscious and drooling with cum spattered over his tummy and dripping lewdly down the insides of his legs. Trey covers his mouth, staring at it with his ears ringing. If this turns into a he-said-he-said… oh god. It’ll look like he was a prostitute. Working in the food industry is hard, and earning extra cash on the side isn't unheard of to keep a business afloat. That stupid tattoo doesn't help…

And even if the police do take him seriously, they’ll do a full sweep of his apartment. If Rook was able to find things after a casual stroll when it had been months since… since that , then the police will definitely find something. He can’t afford to get them involved, he can’t- 

"Ca-Cater… sorry, I gotta use the bathroom, I uh... f-feeling sick," he stammers. 

"Mmm? Okay, uh. I'll open back up in a mo...?" Cater gives him a worried look. Trey can’t meet his eyes as he runs off into the employee bathroom and locks the door.

Trey Clover:

What do you want? Why are you doing this? 

Immediately after he sends the message, a set of ellipses show up at the bottom of the screen, showing that they're typing.

Unknown #: The Caucus Race hotel. Tonight at 6pm. Go up to the front desk, and ask for your room key. I booked it under your name~ 

A final picture comes through. It’s a POV shot showing Trey's swollen, fully erect cock as the stalker’s own, condom-covered cock sinks deep into his tightly stretched ass.

Unknown #: Wear something nice for me. 

Trey puts his phone face-down on the side of the sink without replying. He takes a few deep, shuddering breaths, and then lunges sideways and pukes into the toilet. He trembles, sweating and whimpering as he repeatedly runs his fingers through his hair, taking deep breaths and feverishly trying to calm down.

"Get a grip... get a grip... you can figure this out. Outsmart him, don't panic. Don’t panic, don’t panic, don’t panic… " 

His voice trails off into a whisper, and then he shakily rises to his feet. He goes to the sink, rinses out his mouth, and looks at himself in the mirror. 

Ok… ok. They want to meet him in person? FINE. He’ll meet them in person. Last night, they caught him in bed, in his apartment while he was exhausted and under the impression that he was alone. This time, he knows what to expect. This will end today.

"Sorry about that Cater." Trey apologizes as he comes back out of the bathroom. "I don't know what came over me."

Cater looks up from washing his dishes from lunch. “No biggie. You sure you’re ok? You look super pale.” 

He flicks the dishwater off his fingertips and frowns at him. “You’re not sick, are you? Because like, you gotta go hoooome if you’re sick. Don’t be serving anyone tummy flu cupcakes, you know?”

“Me? Sick? Ahhh… I don’t look that pale do I?” Trey chuckles weakly, looking at himself in the reflective, steel surface of a proofing cabinet. He actually does look pretty bad, but maybe he can use that to his advantage. 

“Ehehe... actually you might be right. Guess I was coming down with something yesterday, and that was why I didn’t sleep so good last night." Trey smiles faintly. He can't get Cater involved in this. This is HIS problem.

“Oof, yeah. Chen-Chen said you’ve been working yourself into the ground. Go slack off.” Cater gives him a playful nudge. “Count your toothbrushes or whatever. I’ll finish up today for you.”

“Hey! I told you about my collection in confidence! You know toothbrushes go bad quickly. You have to have a new one every three months,” Trey protests with a little half-smile. 

“Don’t worryyyyyy. I didn’t tell anybody about your weird toothbrushes. OR the time you tried to brush my teeth, you weirdo.”

The memory brings a sheepish smile to Trey’s face in spite of this awful situation. “Ha ha. Thanks I guess. But you… You’re ok to close up? Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, I’m sure. Shoo. There’s hardly anyone coming in, so I basically get to slack off anyway. I’ll tidy up the front and lock up. You wanna play tomorrow by ear, or should I show up at six again?”

“Uhh… we’ll play it by ear I think… just in case… you know…”

“Yeah, no worries~”

Trey’s eyes narrow as he walks up the stairs of his apartment. He has four hours before the deadline that his stalker texted to him. Four hours.

He needs to prepare.

He doesn’t really own anything fancy. Business casual is the best he can do, and he refuses to even think about what else the phrase ‘wear something nice for me’ might mean. He’ll wear a hat to hide his face from cameras. Dark navy jeans, a plain black shirt, and a jacket. Nothing he’ll feel bad about throwing away, or burning later. This time… this time there will be no mistakes. He’s going to get his life back. 

He double-checks that his magical pen is in his pocket where he can reach it quickly, then opens his largest roller bag and sets it on his bed. If the stalker healed his neck and got into his apartment unnoticed, then chances are, they’re also a mage. He needs to be prepared for that, and for things to get messy. Garbage bags, bleach, clothesline, duct tape, old towels. If there’s carpet, he might have to resort to magic to… clean it. He can’t take too many things, because he needs to leave room in the bag, and lots of it…

He looks up at the clock, and swallows thickly when he sees that two hours have already passed. He feels like he might throw up again. 

He zips up the bag, and then heads to the hotel.

The Caucus Race is easily the most expensive hotel in the downtown area. Coincidentally, it’s also the same one he saw Rook was staying at last night. It has an elegant, glass-paned front door trimmed generously in sweeping, gold filigree. It towers over the street, boasting a full, fifteen floors worth of rooms.

“Oh no…” Trey looks down at himself with a sudden surge of anxiety. He is going to stick out, and badly. Damn it… 

He stares at the door for a moment, trying to swallow down a surge of panic as he sees someone who looks like Rook inside. It fades when it turns out to be a different, much older man with a blonde bob. He walks out through the front door without looking up from his phone, gets into a fancy car, and drives away. Trey lets out a slow, shaky breath, and turns back toward the hotel. Will he bump into Rook here…?

He hopes not. He really, really hopes not.

The lobby is easily as fancy as the front. Marble floors echo importantly under his shoes and the wheels of his roller bag. Polished columns support a vaulted ceiling hung with crystal chandeliers. Each column is carved with a fanciful little scene. A circle of coastal animals run merrily around the base, and a dodo bird stands high above them, urging them to continue running until they are dry. On the next column, the tide has come in as a wash of silver leaf, and soaked them all with sea water. On the next, the water has retreated, and the dodo is once again urging them to run.

The front desk is at the back of the room. It’s a polished slab of black granite, inlaid with patterns of fish and golden sea birds. Two attendants are standing behind it, tapping away at computer screens hidden below the counter surface. Trey approaches them, looking at the columns with a weak little smile as he passes. He still remembers that time Riddle was caught in the rain, and ran in circles around the Octavinelle lounge to dry off in deference to one of the Queen’s rules. He was winded and limping slightly when he explained to Cater and Trey why he was late, and they both barely held back from laughing at him.

But that was Riddle. Serious to the bitter end, if a rule was involved.

"STAY AWAY FROM MY SON!! It's because of YOU that he's off the path I spent the past 25 YEARS training him for. HOW DARE YOU CORRUPT HIM-"

Trey shakes his head and approaches the desk. "Ahem... checking in… for Trey Clover."

“Clover… Ah. Yes of course sir. You have the penthouse suite. Do you require any assistance with your luggage?” The woman behind the counter smiles politely and sets a heavy, gold keycard on top of the counter.

“H-huh?! The… the penthouse?” Trey is caught so badly off guard that he just stares at the golden card for an awkwardly long moment, then even more awkwardly snatches it up. Whoever this freak is, they’re clearly loaded. Wealthy AND a mage?! Oh no… he may be in more trouble than he thought. 

“My… help with… no! No! I got it.” Trey grips the handle of his suitcase a little more tightly, unwilling to give it up. It’s big enough to hold a body, and hardly has anything inside. It will definitely be suspicious if someone else picks it up and doesn’t notice any significant weight.

“Very good sir. Breakfast is served in the lounge from four AM to ten AM. Room service is available twenty-four-seven, and we welcome any questions or requests to make your stay more comfortable. The elevators are to the left, just ride them to the top floor. May I answer any questions for you at this time?” The hotel attendant smiles kindly at him, the very picture of professional efficiency.

"Yes uh... and this is just a reminder for me... How long did I book the penthouse for?" Trey cringes internally at the awkward question. "I'm afraid a... a friend wanted to surprise me, and he didn't give me details about this. Ha ha… sorry."

“It’s no trouble at all. Just a moment…” She taps away at the keyboard. “Just until checkout time tomorrow. That’s one PM. If you would like to extend your stay, we can of course, do so.”

"No, no! Thank you for checking," Trey smiles feebly. He impulsively wants to ask for the price, but his stomach is already tied up in knots at the suspicion of how much this must cost. Probably more than what he makes in a year, and he owns a successful business. “Thank you…”

He walks over to the elevators, calming his breathing. 

He is going to be on the top floor… and the ENTIRE top floor. 

Well…

He won’t have to worry about neighbours, but he better be excruciatingly careful about leaving a mess. This room is booked under his name, so if anything goes wrong, the authorities will come straight to him.

He presses the button and prays that he's sufficiently prepared as he marches straight into this very obvious trap.

The elevator doors open silently. He steps inside and pushes the button for the fifteenth floor. He’s about twenty minutes early, which is perfect. He’ll look around, set things up… get an advantage.

The doors close, and the elevator starts to rise. Trey stares blankly at the wall for a minute, then half-consciously rubs a hand over the outside of his pocket. He pauses, and then pulls out his phone and opens the text chain with the stalker, flicking up through the messages and to the pictures. His stomach twists as he stares at them, and his chest tightens until he wants to cry. Why… why would they do this to him? Why…

The elevator goes up and up without pause or interruption. Trey presses a hand over his mouth and slides down the wall, sitting next to his rolling bag as his eyes start to burn with unshed tears. He presses his phone screen tight to his chest to force himself to stop looking. He doesn’t want to do this… not again.

“Fifteenth floor.” 

The doors quietly slide open, revealing a short hallway lined with elegant, peaked windows. An ivory carpet with a floral, steel-gray pattern covers the floor, and the walls are paneled at waist-height with rich, mahogany trim. There is a single door at the end of the hallway, set into an elaborately carved frame that matches the trim. 

There’s a long silence, and then the elevator doors start to slide closed again. Trey quickly rises and jams a foot between them, keeping them from closing. “Fifteenth floor.” The elevator says again calmly.

Fumbling, Trey picks up his roller bag. He’s distantly surprised that there isn’t a puddle of sweat where he was sitting. Luckily his outfit is dark enough to prevent stains, but he feels so gross. 

Fine… it will be fine. He’s going to need to take a shower anyway… after.

With heavy feet he walks out of the elevator and uses his keycard to open the door. The room beyond is spacious and well-lit. Enormous, floor-to-ceiling windows show a spectacular view of the city below, angled outward as they wrap around an entire corner of the building. To his left is an open kitchenette with an island countertop made from a slab of polished marble. It is fully stocked with appliances, and an artfully arranged bowl of fruit. 

To his right is a raised dias, which curves gracefully along the full length of the floor. Set back a short distance from the step are two closed doors that probably lead to the bedroom and bathroom. The carpeting stops there, and changes to a gleaming, white marble. It changes back again to carpet at the top of the step, and likely extends into the bedroom. He stares at it all, feeling slightly panicked and overwhelmed. Oh no… why is everything white? 

His phone buzzes twice. Trey flinches hard, hand diving into his pocket as he snatches it up, panting slightly. No, they can’t be here already. Not yet…

Unknown #: Awwww. You're early <3  Bedroom~ There's a surprise for you. 

With a shaky breath, Trey looks around, trying to see if anyone is already here. The only sound is the near-silent whirring of the refrigerator, but as he looks closer, he spots a camera lens peeking out from behind the fruit bowl. He approaches it, and picks it up with a scowl. It's a small, cheap camera, like the ones people buy for home security that connect to their phones via bluetooth. Nothing special.

He sets it down inside the sink, with the lens stuffed down inside the garbage disposal. There, that’s better.

He places one hand in his pocket and wraps it around his magestone pen. Then he picks up his rolling bag again and slowly approaches the bedroom. He has to play along, at least a little. He has to make them think they’ve won so that they’ll show their face, and then...

The wheels of his suitcase click gently against the marble floor, then bump against the step between the kitchen and bedroom area. They go silent again against the plush, deep-pile carpet, and it feels ridiculously as though he’s pulling it across a lawn.

As he opens the door, he's greeted by an overwhelmingly elaborate bedroom. The bed is framed by velvet curtains and covered by a rich, silk taffeta bedspread. It's easily big enough for five people, making the small, gift-wrapped box placed teasingly on the pillows seem even smaller. How on earth do they find bedding to fit on a mattress this size?! It all seems so absurdly impractical. Trey scoffs quietly, and sets his bag against the wall. The stalker has clearly already been here and set up… something. They’re playing with him. 

With a prickle of anger, he walks up to the outrageously sized bed and stares at the box. He’ll have to get onto the stupidly large mattress to get to it…

He crawls across the covers, refusing to take off his shoes. As he gets closer, he can see another cheap, wireless camera perched on the headboard, lens positioned right where it can watch him pick up and open the box. He pointedly stuffs it under a pillow before picking up the ‘gift.’ It's a simple, velvet box with a blue ribbon on top, like something that would hold a ring or a fancy necklace. He turns it around in his hands, checking the bottom and hinges for obvious traps before slowly opening it. 

His chest tightens as he stares down at the contents. There are two, tiny white pills tucked into the cushion where something like a pair of earrings might be displayed. What the…?

His phone buzzes once in his pocket. He jumps, then looks down at the text with a glare.

Unknown #: Take both. No cheating. 

Trey grits his teeth, looking around for the other cameras that must be watching him before huddling over his phone and angrily typing a reply.

Trey Clover: 

And if I don't? What if I just leave right now? I don't know what you want with me. I'm just a normal guy. I run a bakery. I am mediocre at best. What do you WANT from me? 

Unknown #: Relaaaaaax. They're not gonna kill you, ha ha. 

Trey exhales in a long, angry sigh. So. If he takes these pills, then this creep will probably show up, expecting that he’s been drugged like last night. He can fake it, let them get close, and then…

And then end this. This creep has enough money to rent a bed the size of his childhood bedroom, and they have pictures of him. They have disgusting, awful pictures of him, and they don’t seem to care if the police see them. They might even post them online ... 

The thought makes his skin crawl.

Trey Clover:

I don't see why I shouldn't leave right now. 

He types it coldly. He has no intention of leaving now, but he has to make this convincing. They won’t get close unless they really think he’s out cold…

Unknown #: If that was true, then you wouldn't have come in the first place. Take the pills, Trey.

[dagger-n-ravvi]

Chapter 5: Photo Finish

Trey tries to continue with his life after a baffling and scary night, but his stalker has other plans.

Summary for those who would like to skip this chapter. (It is also possible to skip past the first part of this chapter to the break to avoid the direct depictions of sexual assault.)

This chapter includes noncon, penetrative rape, non-consensual pornographic photography, forced orgasm, and mind games.

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A03 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49350448?view_full_work=true

They drag his pajama pants down in a slow, tingling brush of silk gloves against his thighs, leaving them bunched up around his knees. 

"Awwwww, you’re not circumcised? Cute~ It’s got a little scarf!” They stroke his cock, giving the shaft a playful squeeze.

“Mnn-mnnnnn… mnnnnnnn… ” Trey weakly shakes his head, eyes squeezed shut and chest burning with panicked dread. His cock jumps at the touch, and his legs tremble and twitch as those slick gloves play with his foreskin, pushing it down to expose the sensitive tip. His breath catches and he clumsily draws his knees together in a reflexive attempt to protect himself. His body feels painfully vulnerable…

The stalker grabs him underneath his arms, and drags him a few feet over into the light filtering in through the window. The window… is that how they got inside? Have they been here the whole time? Trey stares up at it, breathing shakily through his nose and trying not to cry.

"Smile~" 

They slip a cheap digital camera out of a back pocket and take a photo. Trey flinches away from the flash with a whimper. His chest quavers, and his nose starts to stuff up, making it much harder to breathe and adding to his misery. Rook... Rook was right, he has a stalker, and somehow they know . They know, but HOW?! How could they know??

"No more hiding~" Their fingers tangle into his hair and pull his head back, pushing the camera into his duct-taped face to take another picture. Trey flinches again as the flash makes him see spots, chest hitching with a thin, hysterical sob. "You're going to show me everything." 

They shove him over onto his front. He feels their fingers squeeze into his ass, spreading him out for a moment before they unexpectedly let him go. "Oh~?" 

Trey lies weakly on his belly, feeling fuzzy and light headed as he breathes laboriously through his stuffy nose. This is just a bad dream. It’s a bad dream, and he wants to wake up, wake up!   

He forces his muscles to flex and tries to pull his hands underneath him-

“Shhhhh~” The stalker pushes him back down and strokes a little spot on the left side of his lower back in a sickly sweet little circle. "So cuuuuuute. How did you hide this from me?" 

Trey flinches, a jolt of humiliated shame punching through his fear and panic. He got that tattoo forever ago. It’s a stupid, three-leafed clover like his Heartslabul card suit, and he was drunk and feeling impulsive. He keeps meaning to get it removed, but it’s easy enough to hide, and he’s been busy- 

He hears that damn camera snapping another photo, and then the fingers are back on his ass again, greedily squeezing and spreading him out.

"The bakery has been good to you~ Look at all this cake."  

There's a rustle of silky fabric, and the stalker’s breath picks up, becoming shorter and more excited as they spread his legs apart and kneel between them.

“Mmmph! Nnnuuuugh !” Trey flexes desperately, barely able to breathe between the tape and his nose. His mind is so hazy that his vision is starting to smear and get even more blurred than it should be without his glasses. His body is covered in cold sweat, and beginning to go limp in spite of the terror. It’s slowly succumbing to the drugs and his own exhaustion.

“Mmmmm~” A distorted voice hums comfortingly next to his ear. Fingers stroke his hair, and something hard and slippery works itself into his ass and begins to gently spread him open.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted you like this~" 

The pressure in his ass increases and insistently pushes deeper, seeking out his internal sensitive spot as silk-clad fingers brush frictionlessly along the shaft of his cock. Trey jolts, whimpering and staring hopelessly at his dresser where his magestone pen is still stowed away. ‘It’s a nightmare… it’s not real… it’s not real… this isn’t happening…’  

“Nnnngh-!” He grunts as the pressure of their fingers makes him feel cramped and uncomfortably full. The air is cold, and makes him brutally aware of every inch of exposed skin as they push another finger inside and start to scissor him open. He shudders and sobs behind the tape, violated tears pouring down his cheeks. 

“Awww, don’t cry~” They gently draw their fingers in and out, free hand stroking comfortingly along his back, his thighs, his face. A hand cups his cheek for a moment and then a warm tongue drags across his cheek, licking up the tears. "Are you going to behave now? I don't want to have to punish you." 

Trey can’t even flinch away from the visceral heat and wetness across his cheek. He sniffles faintly and stares at the wall, not answering, and not fighting either. ‘It’s not real, it's not real…’  “Now look what you did. You made yourself all stuffy~” 

They gently peel the tape off. He gasps for breath, vision clearing just a little. Before he can say anything, they flip him over onto his back, and a tongue pushes into his mouth, kissing him deeply as that deep, insistent pressure returns to his ass. Whatever they're putting inside him this time is bigger. Despite the horrible, violating situation, his cock is tightening from all the toying, pushing into their hand with an illusion of enjoyment that he doesn’t feel. His ass weakly tightens, trying to reject the new pressure even though it doesn’t feel as awful and cramped as the first time.

“Aaah… gggnnmmm… aah…” Trey moans into the kiss, his tongue trapped and his body almost fully paralyzed. They suck at his lips, his tongue. Their tongue pulls across the roof of his mouth with noisy, wet moans. A silk-covered hand grabs his left leg and pushes it up to his chest, trapping it between them as their cock sinks inside his ass with lubricated ease. They bounce experimentally a few times and then begin fucking him at a deep, slow pace, drawing out every stroke and angling the penetration to deliberately put the pressure on his inner, sensitive spot.

“Ghhhhhhhh…” Trey’s eyes roll back into his head. He can feel his cock curled up tight against his stomach, throbbing intensely with every thrust. Light, wet slaps echo in his ears as the pressure goes in and out, faster and faster.

"You're going to come~" Another deep, wet, sucking kiss. "I'm gonna make you come around my cock." 

“Nnnghhh… n-noooo…” He moans. 

“Hush~” They capture and suck on his tongue again. He whimpers, and a fat bead of precum pearls at the tip of his cock.

"Mmmnn~" Fingers trail oh-so-lightly along his shaft, savouring the way he's hardened, the way the anal sex is forcing slippery precum to ooze lewdly onto his stomach. Each thrust sinks into him with a firm smack of hips against his ass, nudging his entire body back and forth across the floor. 

"Your ass is squeezing me~ You're so fucking hot. Are you getting close? I wanna see your face when you lose it, because then I'm gonna cum inside you and make you mine~" 

They capture his tongue and suck on it, pulling it tight against their teeth in a deep smothering kiss. 

“Aaaaaaugh!” Trey’s eyes practically cross, and he arches weakly, core muscles fluttering as his cock spills cum all over his belly and chest. His ass squeezes rhythmically around them, body finally surrendering to orgasm. 

“FUCK, yessss~” They bury themselves and press an eager, sucking kiss to his neck. Their hips buck a few times against his, more roughly and sporadically than at the start. They shudder, and then moan happily as a surge of warm pressure rolls sickeningly through the pit of his stomach. 

"Hahhhhh~ Soon... soon I'll be able to keep you~" 

They sit up, casually pull out of him, and then gently spread his legs apart. There’s another flash as they use that cheap, digital camera to take a picture of his cum-spattered tummy and throbbing ass.

"Would you like that? If I kept you forever? And made you cum just like this for me every night? 

Hazily, Trey can see that they were wearing a condom. They casually flick it off and into a little ziplock bag before tucking the bodysuit closed and sitting back with a sigh.

"Don't worry. I've waited this long, and I can wait just a liiiiiitle longer." 

“Nnngh… ” Trey whimpers, barely understanding what’s being said to him. This is a dream. A nightmare. One where he’s paralyzed and being raped by a faceless shadow. His cock and ass are pulsing, and his body is so sensitive…

They kiss him on the cheek, and then everything falls into darkness.

It’s four-thirty AM. Trey is lying curled on his side in bed, dressed in his pajamas with the covers pulled up to his chin. The first rays of morning sunlight are only just peeking in through his window, which is closed and locked, just the way he left it.

His phone begins to play a generic, cheerful wakeup alarm. Trey’s eyes shoot open and he sits bolt upright, then doubles over with a cry of pain. 

“Ouch! Oh Seven, my neck-?! What…?” Panting, Trey looks around his room in mild panic. Is anyone else here?!

No… 

No. His room is empty, and appears exactly as he left it before going to bed. Trey takes a deep breath, then slowly gets up with a pained, heavy wince. The entire, left side of his neck is cramped and stiff, as though he slept on it wrong. He can barely turn his head to that side. He stumbles into the bathroom, looks at himself in the mirror, and then shakily pulls his hand back…

There's no blemish. Nowhere that a needle might have been stabbed into his skin. He lightly touches his neck, then trails down to the collar of his pajama shirt down to check his shoulder. He lightly runs his fingertips over his neck again, just to convince himself…

Something on the front of his pajama shirt catches his eye. The third and fourth buttons? He lets go of his neck and stares at them in the bathroom mirror. The thread holding them to his shirt looks different. Pale blue, instead of white. 

… just a trick of the light?

Trey swallows thickly, and looks away. Nightmare. He’s clearly had an awful, disgusting nightmare, but he’s ok. He’ll be ok, and he needs to get ready for work. 

He tosses his pajamas in the laundry hamper and takes a hot shower. The water eases the soreness in his neck and shoulder, and coffee eases the exhaustion. His backside is oddly sore, and stings lightly as the water runs down the small of his back. But he has ibuprophen in the medicine cabinet, and that quickly reduces ALL of his aches down to something that’s annoying, but manageable.

Before leaving, he takes extra care to ensure that ALL of his windows are closed, locked, and curtained.

Cater is leaning against a lamp post outside the bakery when he comes down the stairs, looking out at the sunrise with a little smile.

“Good morning! I hope you weren’t waiting long?” Trey smiles tiredly and unlocks the front door for both of them. “How’d ya sleep?” 

"Haaa-ahhhh… Decent I guess,”  Cater yawns. “Been up for an hour already though. Jet lag suuuuuucks." He follows Trey into the bakery, blinking with good-natured sleepiness. "How about you?"

“Ahhh… I slept on my neck weird. Took some meds. I’ll turn in earlier tonight to make up for it. You know Rook came by last night?” Trey shakes his head with a little chuckle. 

"ROOK? As in Rook HUNT?" Cater's eyes go wide.

“Yeah. Guess where he came in.”

“Oh my god, where?”

“The window. The one that’s all the way up there,” he points up at the ceiling as he begins pre-heating the ovens. “He was just sitting there, perched up on the windowsill like an overgrown bird. I nearly had a heart attack. Honestly… that man.”

"Sheesh! You know, I saw him up on the roof of the Heartslabul dorm once? Said he was 'admiring the beauty of the croquet match from above.' Hella creepy." Cater shudders, washing his hands and pulling on an apron. "Did he say what he wanted or just like. Heart attack you and then sashay away?"

Trey bursts out laughing, leaning heavily against the counter as the memory nearly brings tears to his eyes. “Sashay away… oh my god, I forgot about that. Ahhh… No. He said he’s location-scouting for Vil’s upcoming action movie.” 

“... which takes place in a second-story window?”

“Ha! No. He’s looking for a street for a car chase. He said he won’t recommend mine even though it’s pretty, thank Seven.” Trey shakes his head, rolling the proofing cabinets over to the counter. “I’m happy he’s found his calling, at least.”

"Can he find his calling away from you?" Cater rolls his eyes and helps him lay out the unbaked pastries. "You want me to do anything in particular? Start coffee?"

“Coffee… Yes, start the coffee please. Then we can start surface finishes and decorating. When it’s closer to opening time, we can start loading up the display cases…”

The morning passes quickly. Compared to Chenya, Cater is a one-man army. He's fast, efficient, and unfailingly cheerful. Trey had to admit it, he’s amazing, and the fact that this is all temporary is a shame. 

Once customers start coming in, Cater engages them easily with a bubbly, carefree attitude that sends everyone off with a smile on their face. It seems like no time at all has passed before it's noon, and time for a lunch break.

"I can't believe it. Time went so fast, and the crowds were just as big as yesterday. Thanks for taking care of the front while I baked in the background. You're amazing at this, Cater." Trey gratefully hands him a sandwich made with fresh-baked bread, spicy cheese, ham, and lettuce.

“Thank youuuu~ It’s a great change of pace from all the influencer stuff. Sometimes you just start really craving REAL people, you know? Ehh, maybe you don’t…” Cater takes a bite of sandwich, and happily rubs his cheek. “Plus I get the BEST foodies~”

“Awww, it’s just a sandwich. Tea or coffee?” Trey offers with a little smile.

“I’ll take a decaf if you’ve got it. Gotta try to fight back the jet lag at least a little.”

Out at the front counter, one of Cater’s ‘Split Card’ clones is cheerfully ringing up a straggling customer. He shoos her out the door with her purchases, and then vanishes in a little cloud of diamond-shaped sparkles.

“I see real people all the time. Remember the lady who tried to put in an order to make her coffee flavored before I could tell her we don’t do that here? She was fuming . It doesn’t get more real than that.” Trey chuckles as he pours tea for himself, and picks up the decaf coffee pot for Cater. 

“I knowwwww. You’re a BAKERY that has coffee, not a cafe!” Cater shakes his head. “People ought to get their business types straight.”

“You want it black, right? Or have you finally got your sweet tooth back?” Trey teasingly holds up the sugar and Cater makes a face.

“Ugh, no? You gotta actually want something for it to come back.”

“Fair enough, just thought I’d ask.“ He brings the cups back over and takes a sip. ”I gotta say Cater… I’m impressed. You're really taking this ‘staying off social media’ thing to heart. I don’t think I’ve seen you on your phone even once today… who are you and what did you do to Cater?” 

“Youuuuu…” Cater scrunches up his nose to give him a playfully outraged look. “Tell you the truth, it was starting to kinda bum me out. When you work as like, an influencer, you’ve ALWAYS got your work with you. It’s literally in your pocket.” His fingers lightly dip to his pocket, and then he curls them into a little fist. “You have this fabulous bakery, and if you wanna leave for the day, you just walk through those doors.” 

He nods toward the glass double-doors of Trey’s bakery, and takes a sip of coffee. “Only exit door I’ve got is just not picking it up at all.”

He relaxes and nudges Trey’s hand with a rueful smile. “Ha, you got me all philosophical~”

“That’s very mature of you Cater. If my shop helps, then stay for as long as you’d like.” Trey offers, honestly happy that Cater is here to help.

“Shush before I change my mind and make you pose for a selfie,” Cater snickers.

“Ok, ok…” Trey laughs, then smiles bemusedy as his own phone interrupts the moment by buzzing in his pocket. He sets his sandwich down and pulls it out. There's a notification on his home screen that he received a new text message. He opens it with an eye roll, expecting it to be a scammer.

Unknown #:

I had a great time last night. 

Trey lifts up an eyebrow. A great time? Last night? What the… is this Rook?

“Excuse me Cater, I gotta see who this is-” Trey says distractedly, standing up and walking a few steps away before typing back.

Trey Clover:

Uh, hi? Is this Rook? 

Unknown #: This one is my favourite. 

There's a pause, and then a picture of him flashes up on the screen, naked, terrified, and with duct tape pressed tightly over his mouth.

[dagger-n-ravvi]

Chapter 4: A Bump In The Night

Trey gets a much less pleasant visitor on this surprisingly busy night.

WE'RE JUMPING STRAIGHT INTO WARNINGS!! This chapter contains noncon, non-consensual and traumatic drugging, needles, physical assault, sexual assault, bondage and blackmail.

Summary for those who wish to skip this chapter.

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A03 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49350448?view_full_work=true

Trey crawls miserably back into bed. No more interruptions, no more anything . It's been an extremely long night and he STILL has to get up early tomorrow. At least Rook didn’t seem too mad…

He buries his face in his pillow with a mortified groan and forces himself to stop thinking about it. Cater promised to show up to help him in the morning. There, focus on that instead of his stupid paranoia. And Chenya...? Huh. Chenya might show up again. But he did eat six cinnamon buns yesterday, so he might be set for a while. That cat is one of his oldest friends, but sometimes he makes Trey feel like a drug dealer-

Harsh, stabbing pain slams into the side of his neck, and then a scorching burn floods through the muscles of his neck, face, and left shoulder.

"AAAAAAAH?!" Trey is instantly wide awake. He thrashes out of the blankets, instinctively recoiling from the pain. "WHAT THE-!?"

Above him, he can see a human-shaped figure with their face completely covered by a sleek, black mask. They toss a small, glittering syringe aside and then jump on him, wrestling him back down against the bed and clapping a hand over his mouth. 

"MMMMMNGH!" Trey screams into their hand as the burn spreads down his arm in a rush of eerie tingles, making his muscles jerk and twitch. A terrifying weakness begins to spread through the rest of his body. His heart pounds in his chest and throbs at his temples, trying desperately to help him fight off whatever was in that syringe. He arches, and then slams his knee into their stomach. They double over with a distorted grunt of pain, and Trey scrambles backward out of bed, gasping for breath with one hand clamped protectively over his neck. 

"What the hell did you do to me?!" He gasps, trying to get to his feet. His ankle folds, dropping him hard onto his hip and shoulder. He cries out and shakily rolls over, limbs horrifyingly heavy and weak. Magestone, he has to get to his magestone pen NOW -

He forces himself up to his hands and knees, and crawls toward his dresser. The sound of his own breathing is extremely loud in his ears as he pulls himself up to the top drawer using the handles…

A hand clad completely in black silk wraps around his ankle and yanks him backward. He cries out, hitting his forehead on the bottom lip of the dresser as he falls. “WHO ARE YOU?! WHY ARE YOU IN MY HOUSE?!” He screams, weakly kicking at them.

"You already know who I am.” 

The figure’s voice is heavily distorted. They jump onto his back and pin him to the floor, wrapping a hand beneath his chin. 

"And I know who you are.” They nuzzle their cheek to his in a sickening sort of hug. Trey thrashes beneath them, panting heavily. He’s dizzy from the hit, and growing weaker by the second. He knows who this is?! Apart from being fairly sure that it’s a man, he's not able to determine much else from the body or the sound of their voice, but…

“I know what you did~" 

“What…?” Trey whispers, trembling hard at the implication of… oh god, does that mean…? "Ok… Ok… Please I didn’t mean to, just… j-just tell me what you want… "

"Everything~" 

A gloved hand slowly pushes itself down the back of his pants and gives his backside a firm, full-handed pinch. It glides over his skin with satiny smoothness, cool and slippery. Trey's eyes widen in horror, and his body tenses weakly. His left arm and shoulder are completely paralyzed, and he’s so scared that he feels like he’s about to throw up.

"N-no… no please ... Please don't do this, just leave… leave me alone- " he begs, voice breaking as helpless tears well up at the corners of his eyes.

"Shhhhhhh~" The figure gets off of him and pushes him over onto his back. "I'm not going to make it hurt." 

They sit astride his hips and grind against him with a low, eager moan. Then they lean forward and slowly begin to pop open his pajama shirt. 

" No..." Trey chokes. He’s losing the ability to move. Paralyzed, disoriented. It's like a nightmare where he can’t even run, and somehow they know . They know, and all he can do is look up at them as overwhelmed tears begin to pour down his cheeks a d his chest hitches with a panicked sob. They’re like a shadow, barely visible, blurry without his glasses, and faceless in the gloom. Who ARE they?!

Teasingly, they pull up the lower half of the mask to uncover a pale mouth, then lean forward, tongue pushing invasively between his teeth and across his tongue. They taste overwhelmingly like mint. Trey retches, and yanks his face to one side. 

"The drugs were supposed to make you fall asleep. If you want to, I won't mind~" They grind against him again. Trey whimpers softly. He can’t let this happen, he has to get away. He can barely, clumsily move his right arm and leg. If he twists around at just the right moment…

"Or maybe you like the way I feel against you~?" 

A silky hand trails over his chest, tracing the outer rim of his areola and pinching the nipple. Another trails down the center of his tummy and dips into the waistband of his pajama pants, feeling around inquisitively.

"You don't wear underwear to bed? Naughty~" 

The cool, slippery fingers trail lower, pushing over his pubic mount with unhurried, teasing movements, as though their owner is savouring every moment. Trey shudders, forcing himself to hold still. He needs to gather his strength. There’s no telling when his body might become completely paralyzed, or worse, he might fully lose consciousness. But if they want his pants off, they’ll have to get up. And when they do…

“One less thing in my way? Hot~” They rise to their knees and start tugging his pants down-

Trey lurches to the side, trying to throw them into his bed frame. They're not expecting it and crash sideways with a distorted yelp, grabbing at the front of his shirt as they fall over. The silk gloves make their hands slippery, and his shirt yanks itself through them, making two buttons pop loose and go rolling across the floor.

"GET AWAY FROM ME!" Trey sobs, struggling to drag his barely responsive body away from them.

"Don't you say that to me." They push themselves upright with a single, violent shove.

"I don't know who you think you are, OR WHAT YOU KNOW! BUT YOU’RE WRONG!" Trey gasps, weakly crawling toward his dresser again. "Get away from me-MMMPH!"

They grab his jaw with both hands and crush their mouth to his for a moment in an angry, forced kiss.

"I'm not wrong." 

They reach up, grab a roll of duct tape off the windowsill, and tear it open.

"HELP!" Trey sobs, craning his neck to keep his face away from them. “HE-MMMMPH!!”

"I’m not.” 

They seem genuinely angry as they wrap the tape around his face and press it firmly over his mouth and chin, muffling his screams. Then they toss the roll aside and stare down at him with their eerie, expressionless mask.   

“And I’m allllll the help you are going to get." 

[dagger-n-ravvi]

Chapter 3: Leaving So Soon?

Trey gets Rook ready to spend the night, but the hunter has other plans.

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A03 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49350448?view_full_work=true

Trey bites his lip, staring down at the back of Rook’s head. His hat fell off at the threshold of the door. With a shaky breath, Trey picks it up and sets it gently on the bedside table for him.

’Why were you REALLY here Rook?  Are you telling me the truth? I apologize for doing this to you, but I NEED to make sure. ’

He reaches down and unlaces Rook’s boots, trying to gauge how… oh Seven, how drugged he is, and also guiltily getting him more comfortable. It’s a little easier if he pretends he’s a drunk friend… just a drunk friend who had one too many shots, and now he needs a place to crash for the night... 

Rook’s eyes are closed, and he doesn’t react at all as his shoes and socks are taken, revealing slender feet with a line of odd, gold scales over his Achilles tendons. Trey frowns at them, and then lifts his eyebrows when he realizes that they’re actual, honest-to-goodness scales. Kind of like you’d see on a snake, or a lizard or…

Ohhhh. Like scales you’d see on the legs of a bird . Rook is a beastman? A bird beastman? That… ha. Actually, that makes a lot of sense. Certainly explains how he can see whether you have dandruff from fifty feet away, and hear your heartbeat from across the room. Eagles have incredible senses.

“Ahhh… Rook? Do you want the shirt on or off?” Trey lightly touches his shoulder. Rook doesn’t respond. His eyes are closed and his breathing has slowed and steadied. 

“… sorry.” Trey begins to gingerly work off his shirt and pants. He’s wearing black jeans and a long-sleeved, turtleneck shirt. Taken along with a pair of full-fingered gloves, also black, it looks very much like he was intentionally sneaking around at night. Certainly trying not to be seen, or leave fingerprints.

That suspicion is not particularly helped when he finds an alarmingly large hunting knife tucked into a sheath at the small of his back. It has a large magestone set into the hilt, so he could be carrying it around for magic more than for stabbing things. Possibly.

Fortunately, the contents of his pockets are a lot more mundane. His cellphone is a few years out of date, but it has a picture of Vil posing for an action movie poster on the lock screen. His key ring has a fob for a rental car. His wallet is almost empty, but it does have a credit card, and a few business cards with ‘Schroenheit Studios’ stamped across the front in glossy purple cursive. There's also a keycard for the ‘Caucus Race’ hotel. It's a super fancy one near the center of town. His room number is 1005.

And to Trey’s relief and growing shame, this all checks out with what he remembers about Rook. When Rook lies, it’s almost always a lie of omission. He’s selective about the truth, but he doesn’t outright fabricate stories. He really is here to do location scouting for Vil. He doesn’t know about that… or if he suspects, then he isn’t with the police.

And so the oddest thing about all this is once again, Rook himself. The scales on his ankles, and also the line of pale, downy feathers covering his spine. They start soft and fluffy at the center of his back, then thicken as they trail downward into glossy, golden feathers that match his hair. He has a tail. Or tail feathers, at least. That’s kind of adorable.

Great. So now he’s drugging his old classmates and stealing their clothes for no good reason. Just because he’s a paranoid mess. Wow that’s pathetic.

Feeling faintly awful, Trey neatly folds Rook’s clothes and places everything on the bedside table where he can easily find it in the morning. He takes one last look at him, and then shakes his head. “You’re still pretty mysterious, aren’t you? Let’s get you something to sleep in.”

He's about Trey's height, but much more slender. Pretty much everything Trey owns will be a little big on him, but that shouldn't matter much when it comes to pajamas. The trickiest part will be wrestling him into them. He's out cold and hasn't reacted at all to Trey's investigation. Somehow, that almost makes him feel a little worse. Rook would be acutely uncomfortable with this level of attention if he'd been conscious.

Carefully, he dresses Rook in an oversized, blue t-shirt and leaves it at that. Then he closes the door to give him at least a shred of privacy back, and crawls into his own bed. The adrenaline is fading fast, and that’s enough self-inflicted stupidity for one night…

The moment Rook is certain Trey's gone to bed, he sits up, heart pounding as he finally stops controlling his body's reactions. That... that was extremely unexpected. 

With the fluid ease of a shadow, he takes off Trey's night shirt and re-dresses in his own clothes. His eyes narrow and he looks around the guest room, suspicion thrown into its highest possible gear. Why in the world would meek, oh-so-normal TREY CLOVER drug him in a way that he'd barely been able to detect, and then search his person?! The boldness in and of itself is shocking, even without the clear evidence that Trey is hiding something.

He moves silently through the apartment, frowning at the carpet in the living room.  He found a single, red hair tangled into the fibers earlier. It was rather similar to Roi de Roses’ colour, but the smell clinging to it was all wrong. Lilac and vanilla.

He moves into the kitchen, and quickly finds a lot of very worrying herbs growing in a window box. Anyone else might have mistaken them for culinary plants, and some are. Basil, thyme, lemon balm. But across from them is Valerian, Angel's Trumpet, Foxglove, and Belladonna. He lightly runs his fingers through them, but only sees cuttings from the most innocuous valerian. A sedative and it smells very potent. Trey must have been cultivating it with magic. And… yes, he can feel that it is, slowly working as Trey intended and trying to put him to sleep. He should finish quickly and leave before he truly is unable to stand, and not merely play at being drugged.

He gives the bathroom one more look, glancing bemusedly over the magnificent variety of toothbrushes. He remembers seeing something similar at Night Raven but never discovering their purpose. Such a curious quirk…

Finally, he returns to the front door, intending to quietly slip out and leave when he notices that the carpet is slightly askew, and damaged in the center. He tilts his head, and then gives into his curiosity and carefully rolls it aside.

His eyes widen. The wood underneath is heavily marred by deep, pointed gouges. It’s been repeatedly stabbed, most likely by a very sharp knife. He looks up from the floor, and then around at the furniture at ankle level. Yes… there are scuffs and dents on the couch, the coffee table, and the stand holding Trey’s quaint little television. All consistent with someone thrashing around on the floor. There was a struggle in here. A violent one...

He draws the red hair out of his pocket and wraps it gently over his fingertip, tilting it into the faint light filtering in from the street outside. A struggle that someone did not walk away from, peut-être?

He blinks away a little dizziness, then straightens the carpet. He carefully tilts it into the orientation he found it in, and then pads to the front door, intending to slip outside and return to his hotel for the night.

"Rook?"

He jumps just a little. Behind him, Trey is standing in the darkened doorway of his bedroom, lit from behind by the streetlights."It's in the middle of night. Where are you going?"

Rook twists the deadbolt open and tries to open the door. It doesn't budge, and his eyes widen as he notices two additional deadbolts that have been installed above and below the door handle.

"I have an early start tomorrow. My apologies, I did not mean to wake you," he turns and smiles softly at Trey. Despite the attempted drugging, he does not believe that Trey is dangerous. Not toward him, at least.

Trey turns on the light, and rubs his eyes. "No worries. It’s just jarring, is all. I thought you were asleep." 

He approaches the door, and unlocks one of the other deadbolts. "Sorry, these can be tricky. Ah... Will I see you again?" He pauses over the last lock, turning to give Rook an unreadable expression.

"I will be in town for a few weeks," Room says softly. "I would let Vil know that your street is a lovely shooting location, but I think that the attention may not be to your liking, oui?" 

"Very much so. Thank you. I appreciate it,” Trey sighs, and gives himself a tired little hug with one arm. “Well, if this is the last time for a while, then please... Be careful tonight. Safe travels." 

He opens the last lock, and steps back to let Rook leave.

"And to you as well," Rook bows slightly, and then walks out the door. Trey closes it, and Rook hears the deadbolts slide into place with a series of muffled clicks. He walks down the stairs, then peers back up at Trey’s door, head tilted curiously to one side. Despite the growing wooziness, his eyes are laser focused as he listens to Trey’s footfalls heading back toward his bedroom, and then falling into bed. What a strange and beautiful mystery he’s stumbled upon. It seems almost as though Trey has killed someone~

He walks back down to the street toward the center of town, thoughts churning as he disappears into the darkness.

[dagger-n-ravvi]

Chapter 2: A Knock at the Window

Trey gets an unexpected visit.

A very light warning in this one for non-consensual drugging/sedation.

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A03 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49350448?view_full_work=true

Trey’s apartment is directly above the bakery, just like the one he lived in with his parents. It’s rather small, but he uses the space efficiently. The kitchen has a square table with two chairs, and opens out into a living room with a couch and a tv. There’s one bathroom, his bedroom, and a guest bedroom that he tries to keep clear of junk in case Chenya or Riddle ever decide to sleep over.  Heh… Chenya. He should drag Chenya over this weekend for a movie to celebrate, once he gets this hiring situation all sorted out. Despite Cater’s casual assistance, it doesn’t feel right to not pay him fairly, or to assume he’ll be sticking around forever.

“Okay… so a classified ad, and fifteen madol an hour…? Ish…?” He kicks off his shoes, and then trudges toward his bedroom. Spontaneous hire or no, Cater might actually be a really good fit for this. He was an expert on all things trendy at school, so maybe he can help Trey predict another cupcake run like today. Or whatever else people suddenly decide that they want to buy insane amounts of. With a little luck, he might even stick around longer than a few weeks, and let Trey indefinitely postpone a bunch of uncomfortable hiring interviews with strangers.

He yawns widely and rolls his shoulders, letting the stressful thoughts of work melt away. His apartment is dark, and comfortably quiet. The warm smell of rising bread dough permeates the space like the olfactory equivalent of a hug, so comforting and constant that he almost doesn’t notice it anymore…

…Until a draft of air catches his attention just outside his bedroom door. A little pocket of cooler, fresh air that’s lifted the usual bakery smells. He pauses with one hand outstretched to the door handle and a puzzled frown. Did he leave a window open? He sometimes leaves his windows open to air things out, but he’s pretty sure that he closed everything up before starting work this morning. It’s been unseasonably warm, and there’s no sense in air conditioning the outdoors…

He notices that his bedroom door is moving ever-so-slightly in a light breeze, and sighs tiredly. 

“Hey honey, I’m home.” He yawns again as he pushes the door open. He must have been really tired this morning to miss that window.

Light shines across the floor from behind him, dragging his shadow into a distorted smear. The window on the far wall has been thrown fully open, letting cool, evening air and echoes from the world below into his apartment. Weird… he never opens this one. It doesn’t have a screen to keep the bugs out. Did Chenya sneak up here…? 

Trey walks across the room to close it. As he touches the sash, a flicker of movement from down below catches his eye. Garden Avenue is not busy at this time of night, and his window opens onto the alley. There’s nothing below him but the dumpsters, and a narrow fire-lane bordered by a brick wall. He squints into the darkness, trying to decide whether his eyes are playing tricks on him, or if he really did see something down there. An animal…? 

He closes the window with a grumble, then goes back to the front door, pops his shoes on, and walks downstairs. If something is messing with the garbage, then he needs to double-check that everything is closed up tight. The last thing he needs is to attract rats to his bakery.

He walks into the alley without bothering to lock his door. There doesn’t appear to be anything out here, but it’s hard to be sure. Light from the street lamp only just reaches the brick dividing wall, leaving most of the area in darkness. It smells faintly like garbage, but the lids of the large, industrial dumpsters that he shares with the ice cream parlour and the barbecue restaurant next door are firmly closed.

“Huh…” He shrugs, then turns to leave. As he does, something rustles inside the dumpster, a crinkle of plastic against plastic as though something, or maybe someone is hiding inside there between the garbage bags. Trey pauses, and turns back around.

“… Hello?” He takes out his phone and thumbs open the flashlight app. An anxious prickle creeps up the length of his spine as he shines the narrow beam at the dumpsters, checking between and underneath them before looking again at the lids. He’s not entirely sure that something dangerous isn’t in there, and a sensible impulse pushes at him to leave it alone and go hide away in his apartment until morning. He shakes his head, and then reaches out with two fingers, goosebumps pulling along the skin of his arms as he carefully lifts the lid…

A raccoon jolts guiltily between the tied garbage bags, staring up at Trey with wide, panicked eyes.

“EEK-!” Trey leaps backwards, letting go of the lid. It falls with a loud CLACK of plastic on metal.   

“Haaaaa… heh,” He shines his light at the dumpsters and exhales with a little, self-deprecating chuckle.  “Of course. What was I thinking?” 

The raccoon squeezes out from under the lid and tears off down the alley at a frenzied waddle. The lone, smudged cupcake he wasn’t able to sell today is stuffed inside its mouth, paper and all.

“Enjoy it, you gremlin,” Trey snorts, holding his head. What is he even doing out here? He needs to get to bed so he can get up on time tomorrow morning. Chuckling to himself, he walks back into his apartment, locks the door, and kicks off his shoes. He’ll reheat some meatloaf and mashed potatoes, but FIRST! His clothes feel icky and sweaty. He heads to his bedroom and begins to strip out of his workwear…

He glances over to the window, and then chuckles to himself and tugs the hem of his shirt down. ‘Gotta close the curtains. Don’t want to give the neighbors a show.’ It barely matters since he’s on the second floor, but still. It feels faintly indecent to be half dressed with an open window.  He leans forward and grabs the curtains to pull them together. His reflection smiles back at him from the darkened window glass…

And then it waves at him.

"WHAT THE-!?" Trey leaps back hard enough to throw his glasses off kilter. He catches the frames and shoves them back into place, looking frantically at the window, and then behind him, and then back at the window. The man on the other side is wearing all black, which is why he didn’t see him at first, but now that Trey is REALLY looking, the angular face and that ridiculous, blonde bob is unmistakable.

“Ughhhhhhh…” Trey pinches the bridge of his nose, struggling to maintain his patience. He reaches forward and throws the sash upward with a single, rough shove. 

“Good evening, Chevalier de Roses~”  

"Rook. What are you doing. IN MY BEDROOM WINDOW?!"

“My apologies for interrupting your evening, but truly, you should obtain a screen for this window~” Rook tuts without answering the question.

“Wh-what? Why would you… how…?” Trey splutters at him. He has. So many questions. But he can’t stand here at the window, without pants , talking to Rook in the middle of the night. It is just TOO weird, and just no. NO.

Trey shuts the window, closes the curtains, and quickly turns around. He digs through a drawer and snatches up the first pair of pajama pants he finds and throws them on. So much for being comfortable. 

“Okay…” he exhales loudly, then turns back around and opens the window.

“Hello,” Rook waves at him again.

“What are you doing here Rook? It’s late," Trey snaps.

“I was passing by, and enjoying the city at night. Not quite the serenity of the forest or jungle, but the urban environment has unique challenges, and a beauty all its own~” Rook smiles wistfully. 

“Okay. Why my window ?”

“Ah~ I noticed your lovely little shop and admired it from afar. Quaint and well located. Truly a perfect fit for the Chevalier who so despises notice and shuns the limelight…”

“Rook, no. I get why you’re in the general area but why…?” Trey kneads his forehead with a groan. Why is he even trying? It was impossible to get a straight answer out of Rook at school, and that clearly hasn’t changed. “Okay, I give up. What are you sitting on? You’re not about to fall, are you? This window is at least thirty feet up.”

“Thirty six and three-quarter feet! Not unusual for a residential business,” Rook nods thoughtfully. “I am sitting upon the window ledge. It is sloped, but I am quite secure. Tell me, have you noticed anything unusual about your abode tonight?” 

Trey lifts an eyebrow. He probably means ‘apart from him,’ though there’s a good chance that he simply doesn’t consider this unusual. "Nope. You’re the weirdest thing here. For pity’s sake, come inside. You’re giving me anxiety.” 

“If you insist~” Rook climbs into the window and peers around his bedroom with gentle amusement. “Ahhh, my thanks.”

He stretches his arms, and then lightly shakes out the foot he was balancing on.

“Yeah…” Trey goes over to the window and closes it. And then locks it. “Right. Rook if you just wanted to visit, then you could have called. Or knocked? On the door?” He shakes his head. “I was about to have dinner. Are you hungry?” 

“ Non, non, non, it was never my intention to impinge on your hospitality,” Room raises his hands placatingly. “I’m afraid that what I have to say next may alarm you, but I believe that you’ve attracted a stalker.”

“… What?”  Trey blinks, then shakes his head with a little snort. “Ha, you’re messing with me. Why would anyone stalk me? I’m as boring and normal as you can get.”

“Are you truly? Your facade was always so impenetrably perfect. As a fellow connoisseur of personal secrets, I can of course relate. Even if my inclination is ALWAYS to pry.” 

For no immediately discernible reason, Rook wanders over to his closet and peers inside with a little head-tilt. Then, he picks a shirt up off the floor, holds it to his nose, and inhales deeply.

“What are you-? Stop that!” Trey snatches the shirt up out of his hands.

“Is it yours?”

“Of course it’s mine.” Trey frowns at it, verifying in spite himself that it IS one of his. And it is! It’s a long-sleeved winter shirt, and he’d hung it up to store it away for the spring and summer. It’s very rumpled, as though it had been pulled down and been lying crumpled on the floor of his closet for a while, though. Now he’ll have to wash it…

“I see.” Rook has wandered out of his room and into the bathroom.

"Why do you ask?” Trey tosses the shirt in his laundry hamper with a harried sigh. Maybe the false scare in the alley is still freaking him out, but all this is starting to make him feel uneasy. Rook is strange in a lot of ways. Eccentric, private. Taken by occasional, but disturbing predatory impulses. But overall, he’s a good person. He wouldn't mess with him like this. So if he says that he has a stalker, then that might mean…

But HOW? He was so careful. No one should have noticed…

"Rook...?" Trey nervously adjusts his glasses and walks into the bathroom. Rook has picked up his hairbrush, and is running a finger between the little tines. "Uuuuuuh... Can you not?" 

Trey gently reaches out and wiggles the brush out of his hands. "Look, if you’re trying to see if someone else’s hair is in my brush or something, then don’t?” He sets the brush firmly back where it was. “Also, Chenya comes around here often enough. He’s probably used my brush at some point. Heck, he probably ended up in my closet one day and knocked that shirt down too. It doesn't mean I have a stalker."

“Chenya~? Oui, perhaps,” Rook agrees easily enough. “He also habitually paints his nails, as I recall.”

"Nails...? Oh. Yeah he does. Why?” 

Rook holds up a tiny scrap of something that’s been painted bright red. Trey’s blood runs cold, and he takes a slow breath to steady himself. Easy… there’s no way Rook could know.

“Ew? Just put that in the trash Rook, gross," Trey says delicately. "Figures though. He sometimes sleeps over on weekends and he house-sitted for me a couple weeks ago."

“Purple is his usual colour though. No?” Rook gives him a side-eye, then deliberately places the scrap of fingernail on the bathroom counter. 

"Ehh, he follows his whims." Trey says a little shakily. "He probably was feeling red the other day." 

Careful to keep his movements slow and casual, Trey takes a tissue and throws the bit of fingernail away.

“So he does…” Room walks out of the bathroom and toward the front door.

"What are you looking for exactly? I'm really tired, Rook," Trey sighs.

“A ghost, perhaps.” Rook stoops and lightly brushes a finger against the carpet with a frown. Trey freezes in place as his heart nearly leaps up out of his chest. That is the exact spot where…

“My deepest apologies. It appears I was mistaken and you truly are alone tonight. Au revoir , Chevalier de Roses . Sleep soundly.” He gives Trey a little bow, then turns toward the front door. 

"... Now hold on. I don't feel right letting you leave after all these years. At least let me get you something to drink. No telling when we'll see each other again. And uh... you kinda freaked me out at the stalker bit." Trey admits, impulsively deciding to keep Rook here, at least for a little longer. He HAS to know… if Rook’s found out about that, then he HAS to... “Join me for dinner?”  

“Generous as always~ I will stay if you insist,” Rook amiably turns around and follows Trey back toward the kitchen.

“Yeah, of course. Just a moment…” Trey sets another place at the table, and then starts pulling containers out of the refrigerator. “So Rook, where have you been?”

“My goodness, the easier question is where have I not been. Vil’s studio keeps me wonderfully occupied with location scouting and security both. We are shooting an action film, and the Queendom of Roses has such picturesque streets. Vil thinks them perfect for a car chase, but I have yet to settle on a location.” Rook sits at the table.

“An action film huh? Sounds exciting. I’m glad you found something that aligns with your passions.” Trey comments. He hesitates, then reaches forward and snaps a large, leafy sprig from one of the special plants growing in his window box.

‘Paint the Roses…’ He drops it into the teapot and adds some honey. The distinct smell of chamomile lightly permeates the steam. It should stay that way for at least fifteen minutes now… if he pushes himself.

 “Cookies? They were baked this morning.” He turns around with the tea, a plate of butter cookies, and a platter of small, ham and cucumber sandwiches. 

“Your hospitality outshines a thousand suns, and your cooking is only somehow more wonderful than I remember. Magnifique~” Rook gives Trey his signature, delighted smile.

“It’s just sandwiches , but thanks,” Trey puts everything on the table with a flustered grin. “So Vil is keeping you busy, huh?” 

“ Oui ~” Rook accepts the offerings and sets everything on his plate, waiting for Trey to join him. “But I rarely notice the time spent before it all is simply past. Much like yourself, I would imagine.”

“Yeah… that much I understand. I had so many customers today that it was all a blur. Up at five AM, and then boom! Three pm and time to close up for the day.” Trey pours the tea, then picks up a sandwich and takes a bite. “So the reason you were going up and down my street was because you were searching for a car chase setting? Good luck with that. If you ever want to stop by to get something from the bakery while you’re in town, you’re more than welcome. How has Vil been?”

“Vil is as radiant as ever~” Rook begins to eat with him, making delighted sounds as he visibly savours each morsel. “As his own director, he can cast himself in the roles that he so dreamed of taking, but was denied. He is our lead in the upcoming film, and I feel it is my unofficial, but vital duty to ensure he takes adequate rest.”

"Ha! It doesn’t surprise me that Vil’s taking charge of directing. He's always been good at things like that.” Trey laughs, trying not to stare as Rook finally drinks the tea. “Thank goodness he has you to look after him. Hopefully you aren't driving him crazy,” 

“But of course~ We must always drive the ones we love just a little crazy, must we not? How else are they to know we care?” Rook smiles slyly.

“I guess,” Trey snorts. He lifts his own cup and pretends to drink as he lifts ‘Paint the Roses.’ Rook is halfway through eating a cookie, and doesn’t appear to react. But soon now… if the tea had long enough to steep…

Rook finishes the cookie, then stretches and stands. “An excellent meal, and now I should take my leave and let you return to your evening. I thank you for your company, and your hospitality.”

“You’re welcome, but it's pretty late. Do you want to stay in my guest room?” Trey asks, watching him carefully. “How long of a drive is it back to… Where exactly are you staying?”

Rook takes a step toward the door and stumbles just a little, blinking sleepily.

“Mmm… a place nearby…”

“Rook!” Trey gets up, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Ah… I think you should stay here buddy. I did brew that chamomile pretty strong, ha ha.” He holds Rook steady, and begins to gently tug him toward the guest room.

“Non, I could not impose…” He slumps into Trey’s arms, chin nodding toward his chest, and feet dragging across the floor.

“Not a problem. Anything for a friend.” He pushes open the door and gets Rook over to the bed. “I got you. Tomorrow I’ll be up early, and you’ll be on your way…”

Rook collapses onto the bed with a sleepy mumble and falls still. “... I promise.”

[dagger-n-ravvi]

Chapter 1: A Friend In Need

Trey Clover has a lovely bakery, a nice apartment, and a calm, idyllic life.

What a shame he's caught the attention of a stalker who will have him at any cost. Its up to him to find out who the faceless perpetrator is, before they come after him again.

This is a story-heavy one, so we have added summaries to the end-notes of chapters in A03 that contain sexual assault for those who would prefer to skip those chapters. There will be a link in the chapter header.

This is a whump - or a story in which a character is put through physical, mental, and emotional hell. Read with aftercare and caution.

We love comments and feedback! Feel free to let us know what you think. ^_^

Next Chapter | Fic Index

A03 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49350448?view_full_work=true

Shortly after graduation, Trey started his own bakery. It was located in Hightopp City in the Queendom of Roses, on a quiet little street named Garden Avenue. He proudly named it ‘Clovers.’ 

Ha ha, okay, fair. A bakery is not the first occupation that comes to mind for a graduate of the prestigious, Night Raven College, but Trey doesn’t really mind. His diploma is safe inside its cardboard sleeve, and tucked into a bookcase. His ceremonial robes hang unused in the back of his closet. His magestone pen is more often in his pocket than his hand, and even then, he’s usually just adding a hint of magic to his pastries. It’s a quiet life and a good one. Plenty of polite, well-behaved customers, and more than enough money to comfortably live on. He misses Riddle sometimes, but he understands why he hasn’t visited. They’re both busy.

Very busy.

It’s five AM, and a crisp, spring morning. Trey walks down the stairs from his apartment above the bakery, and lets himself into the kitchen through the back door. He flicks on the lights, pulls an apron over his head, and stretches with a satisfied sigh. Time to start finishing the pastries that have been rising since last night…

”Wheeeeere are theyyyyyyy?” 

A familiar voice reverberates off the countertops and bare walls, making him jump a solid foot into the air. 

“Chenya?!” He clutches at his chest with a long exhale. “Oh my god, don’t SCARE me like that.”

”Wheeeeeereeeeee~” 

Chenya’s disembodied voice takes on a pleading tone, and a warm cheek rubs against his shoulder. “Pleeeeeease?”

A pair of disembodied hands tipped with glossy, purple fingernails appear in the air in front of him, cupped together in eager supplication.

“Chenya, you’re too early. I haven’t even MADE anything yet.” Trey picks up a spare apron and drops it into the floating hands with good-natured exasperation. “Here. You can give me a hand since you snuck in and scared the daylights out of me.”

“For one of your cinnamon rolls? Anything~” Chenya fully appears, standing in front of him with an enormous smile. “Good morning!” 

He gives Trey a hug around the waist and then tosses the apron on, eagerly bouncing in place. Trey accepts the excitement with a good-natured eye roll, and a flustered grin. 

“Come on now, they’re JUST cinnamon rolls. The recipe is about as basic as it gets. Go wash up,” he nudges his chaotic friend toward the sink.

“You don’t understand. I’ve been CRAVING your pastries from the moment I woke up this morning,” Chenya mourns, then glares down at the sink. “We meet again…”

He makes a face, neurotically curls up his fingers, and then flinchingly begins to wash his hands.

“Don’t skimp on the soap! I can use some help brushing tops.” Trey calls over his shoulder. He begins preheating his ovens, then pulls a carton of egg-whites, buttermilk, and butter out of the refrigerator. He pours each into a separate bowl and sets a few pastry brushes nearby. He needs to melt the butter…

“Okay…” Chenya makes a face and shakes off his hands with a spasmodic twitch. “Evil, evil water.”

“Don’t you dare lick your hands. It is not the same as washing, and I will make you wash them again,” Trey warns, rolling a proofing cabinet over to the counter to unload the trays of sweet rolls beside their respective surface finishes.

“I am aware,” Chenya mopes, then walks over with his hands held out in an awkward, unhappy splay. He shakes them with a shudder, then slips off his ring and tucks it into a pocket. “I hope you don’t mind too terribly that I skipped the line outside~” 

"Egg white goes on the croissants and danishes… wait, a line ?" Trey pauses his unloading for a moment, looking back at Chenya. ”I have a line?!"

“You do! Last I looked there were about twenty people in it. I neglected to show them my personal shortcut, lest we become overcrowded.” Chenya cheerfully begins painting egg white onto a tray of croissants. “You didn’t start slipping addictive drugs into your batter, did you~?”

"What? No, don’t be ridiculous." Trey rubs the back of his head as a little spike of anxiety tightens his chest. If there’s already a line outside, then he needs to work faster. His cupcakes should be ready and cooled after baking last night, so he can start decorating... 

“Ah, then it’s in this lovely substance!” Chenya gleefully holds up the pastry brush to let the egg white drip off of it in long, slimy strands. “That ensures it will be the first thing on the tongue. I approve~”

“No .” Trey snorts gently, setting a tray of cupcakes on an adjacent counter. “I spent all my money on vanilla from the Sunset Savanna, and a new mixer. There was no money left for addictive drugs.”

“A pity,” Chenya sighs.

“Shush.” Trey snorts. He begins squeezing chocolate ganache onto the cupcakes from a pastry bag, and then follows it up with a sprinkle of white and dark chocolate shavings. Across from him, Chenya moves the croissants into the oven, and then starts on the danishes. They work in amiable silence for a while, and Trey zones out, losing himself to the simple, but satisfying task. They’ve just about finished when his alarm beeps, warning them that it’s only half an hour to the eight AM opening time.

"Chenya can you start putting these in the display cases?" Trey sets the pastry bag aside to point out a dozen, freshly baked tarts. "And start some coffee?" 

“Just medium and dark? You don’t do anything fancier, do you?” Chenya looks back at him from the cupboard, tail flicking back and forth in amiable little circles.

"Nothing fancier, unless a customer asks for an espresso. That one is easy to make quickly." Trey explains. He pulls out his magestone pen and casts a charm on the sprinkles, chopped nuts, and frosting to finish the decorating. That’s ten cakes, three dozen cupcakes, thirteen large tarts and plenty of small pastries. Hopefully that’s enough…

Chenya loads all the coffee makers, then picks up the tarts and walks out to the front with them. Through the open door, Trey can see him carefully loading the display cases, sorting them from left to right by some, unknown quality. Probably in order of the ones he likes most to the ones he likes least, if he had to guess. Oh well, the organization doesn’t really matter…

Chenya finishes that, then returns to the kitchen and eagerly peeks into the oven where the cinnamon rolls are still baking. “Are they done? IS IT TIME??” 

"Yes, they should be ready. Let's get them out." Trey smiles, then gets his oven mitts, and opens the door. The sweet, comforting aroma of cinnamon and rich milk bread rolls out with a wave of steamy air. Trey inhales deeply and then exhales with a happy sigh. He always loves this part. 

"I’ve got the icing ready. Help me get these onto cooling racks?" 

Chenya cheerfully reaches in to take a baking tray with a bare hand.

“Augh! Treachery and betrayal!” He dances backward, shaking his burned hand. “I feel so silly, my apologies.” 

"Chenya! Put it under cold water," Trey nudges him toward the sink and turns on the faucet. "Are you okay?"

“My pride is wounded. AGK-“ Chenya yanks his hand out from under the water with an affronted mewl and gingerly licks it instead. “I feel faint. I require… cinnamon. And sugar~”

He pulls out his own magestone pen and flicks it at the ovens. The trays of cinnamon rolls lift themselves into the air, and float smoothly onto their cooling racks. Trey closes up the ovens and gives Chenya a fond, but exasperated look.

"You'll be fine, especially if you let the cold water help, and not your tongue?”

“That monstrosity has already had its way with me ONCE today,” Chenya pins his ears back, glaring at the faucet in open distaste. “Not a chance.”

“Geez. Well, stay there then, and do NOT touch anything with the hand that you’re licking. I'll get your cinnamon roll as soon as I finish."

A little magic helps the rolls cool down, spread themselves with icing, and then pop themselves into decorative papers for sale. Finally, with only three minutes until opening time, the baking is complete, and Chenya has his oh-so-precious cinnamon roll. 

"Well? How are the alms for the injured?" Trey sits down beside him to take a breather. Chenya makes a happy noise, and gently licks the steaming roll. 

“It is… so hot~” Chenya blows on the pastry with a deliriously happy expression. “The heat, it slows my nibbling, though I wish to fully bite. Soon we shall unite, but until the manna cools, I endure. Sweet, sweet torture~” 

He takes another tiny bite and rubs his cheeks with an enormous smile, purring ecstatically. His burned thumb and index finger are lightly wrapped in a purple, tie-dyed handkerchief, and don’t seem to be causing him any noticeable discomfort.

"You're ridiculous, but I'm glad that it wasn't as bad as it could have been." Trey snorts softly, then gets to his feet. “I’m going to go open up now. If you can, I’d love a hand with the customers once you’re finished.”

“Of course~” Chenya takes another sticky, blissful bite.

Trey shakes his head and heads out to unlock the door. Now that he’s at the storefront, he can absolutely see the line that Chenya mentioned before, and it is long . He takes a deep breath, then turns to look over at his display cases one last time. Cookies, cupcakes, cakes, tarts, bread loaves, rolls, coffee, and seasonal pies. All freshly baked and laid out on the display shelves with their prices marked up on the blackboard in green chalk.

He's as ready as he’ll ever be.

He turns the sign over to open, and unlocks the door.

It’s absolute mayhem for the first hour. Everyone is thrilled to be buying his pastries, and for some reason, the cupcakes in particular? He sells out of them almost immediately, and has to keep explaining over and over to disappointed customers that they’ve run out until tomorrow. It’s about noon when the rush finally slows, and thank goodness for that. Chenya has hung around, and is helping with small tasks around the shop floor, tidying up after customers and managing complaints. He’s not the most self-directed help, and Trey is absolutely lighter by a few more cinnamon rolls than he should be, but he’s better than nothing.

‘Wow that was a lot…’ Trey slumps as the last few customers trickle out, looking forlornly at his display case. He badly wanted to go bake another round of cupcakes, but then who would manage the front? As much as he hates to admit it... he needs help. 

Taking advantage of the lull, he sneaks into the back and pulls out a sandwich made on freshly baked rye bread. After a moment, Chenya walks in with a stack of dirty coffee cups, humming softly to himself. 

"Chenya... be honest. Should I get an employee?" He stares tiredly at the sandwich.

“Trey, my friend. The way I see it, there are two paths laid before you,” Chenya stacks the cups into the dishwasher. “On one path, you obtain help, and are able to cope with the increased workload of your wonderfully successful shop. On the other, I finish eating my fifth cinnamon roll of the day~” He holds up another pilfered cinnamon roll with such a deeply satisfied smile that he might be looking into the eyes of a lover. “And I watch you work yourself into a spiral of true madness from which there is no return.”

He takes a bite of the roll and closes his eyes, chewing the treat with a deep, rumbly purr.

“... Noted." Trey takes a bite of sandwich, then washes it down with his third cup of coffee for the day. "Also, you’re paying for the four cinnamon rolls you pilfered." 

“The five~” Chenya corrects him agreeably.

“Wait, five? But you…?”

“Helloooo~! Trey-Trey? Anyone home?” Someone calls from the front of the shop.

"Huh? Now that's a familiar voice." Trey gets up from his chair and walks back out to the counter. "Hello! Is that who I think it is?” 

“I dunno, who do you think it is?” Cater giggles and waves at him from the other side of the counter. “Wooooow, looks like I caught you in a lull huh? Your goodies are super picked over.”

There is only one cupcake left in the display case. Its top got heavily smeared when Trey accidentally dropped another cupcake on top of it, and despite the rush, no one had wanted to buy it.

"Cater! I’m sorry, but I gotta close up pretty soon. I didn't expect to sell out this fast. I got a lot of people all of sudden this morning. And cupcakes! All of them wanted cupcakes." Trey shakes his head with a sheepish smile. "I was literally just thinking about hiring an assistant just to keep up with demand."

“It’s no biggie~ I was mostly dropping by to catch up anyway. But hiring! That’s exciting. You put out any feelers yet? Gonna try and get someone local to the QOR?”

"Oh wow. I’m not sure,” he admits. “I haven't even put up a sign. Seven… I have to think about interviewing, and how I want to split up tasks, and hours, and how much I can afford to pay..." 

Trey holds his head with a long sigh. He’s getting a headache just thinking about it, and he’s half convinced that this whole thing is one, bad hire away from becoming a giant mess. "Maybe I could double the amount I usually make instead? Agh, no, I’d still run out of time for decorating and finishes. When am I even going to find the time ?"

“Whoaaaaa, stress vibes,” Cater sympathises, lightly tugging at the hair behind his left ear. “You’re seriously running this place a hundred percent solo? Brutal. I know it’s kinda out of the blue, but I hit a hiatus in my own work. Could give you temporary hand, since we’re old buddies and all~”

"You want to work in a bakery? But you hate sweets. And I thought you were doing a social media travel blog?" Trey looks up at him tiredly. Aghhh, and he shouldn’t have unloaded on Cater, that was rude. Now he probably feels like he HAS to help…

“Nahhhh, that’s why I’m on hiatus,” Cater rubs the back of his head with a rueful smile. “I’m back in the QOR for a couple weeks for a break. And yeah, I don’t like sweets, but I know how to do basic prep stuff! You probably need someone to handle people and sales and tables anyway, yeah? That way YOU can do all the working with the sweeties.”

“You lack a sweet tooth? How on earth do you survive?” Chenya appears in the air above the cash register, lounging upside-down with his legs crossed. He gives Cater a curious look, licking cinnamon and sugar off his fingers.

“Just fine, thanks,” Cater gives him an annoyed smile. “Probably better than someone who eats half of what they make, just guessing~”

Trey snickers at the catty response, but the idea is sorely tempting. He likes Cater well enough, and if Chenya comes to help every now and then, he could even have time to finish his work and take a small break during the day.

"Alright, alright I'm convinced. But Cater you'd have to come in at six AM. We close at three PM, and I stay after to do prep. If that’s not a dealbreaker, then I'd be happy to have you. It'll be like old times.” He smiles. "And don’t worry about Chenya, he- Oh! That's right, have you guys met?”

“Not formally,” Chenya flips right-side up and drops to the floor, standing politely on his feet.

“Chenya this is Cater Diamond, and Cater this is Chenya. Or Artemiy Artemiyevich Pinker, but just call him Chenya. Don't worry about him, he's paying for all the cinnamon rolls he ate." 

“Ohhhhh, THIS is Chenya,” Cater smiles warmly. “Trey-Trey told me all about you sneaking over to Heartslabul to pester him and Riddle. Nice to finally see you in person.” He holds out a hand to shake, appears to remember that Chenya was just licking his hand halfway through, and then quickly turns it into a little wave. 

“And you as well! I saw you painting roses once with that marvelous unique magic of yours. Very handy.” Chenya beams, then leans forward and continues in a stage whisper. “PLEASE do help Trey. He’s going to run himself ragged doing this work all on his own. He’s quite incredible, but not THAT incredible.”

“Yeah, he is,” Cater smiles back. “Besides, I’m hella jet lagged, so getting up at five is basically gonna be my MO for a couple weeks anyway. Might as well have some fun with a friend~”

"Hey now! I can hear you guys!" Trey looks away with an embarrassed smile. "As long as you’re sure that the early start is okay! I don't want you getting overloaded."

“Yeah, I’m sure~” Cater beams.

“Okay…” Trey tilts his head to one side to crack his neck, then gives his shoulders a little roll. "Okay. I‘m going to close up for today. I barely have anything left to sell, so I should get a head-start on prep." 

“Awwww, bummer. You want me to start like. Now? I didn’t really have plans for later anyway.” Cater offers.

“Mmmmm, how generous~” Chenya opens up the till to pay for his cinnamon buns. giving Trey a pointed side-eye as he does. Coming from him, it’s the visual equivalent of screeching ‘ ACCEPT HIS HELP, DUMMY!!’  

"Well... I..." Trey trails off, then shakes his head and gives Cater a rueful grin. "Yes. I would like that very much. If we can get tomorrow's prep all wrapped up, that will mean an easier morning." 

“Awesome~” Cater beams. “What should I do first?”

It isn’t until Trey is locking up the bakery for the night that he realizes it was a little weird for Cater to just… jump in and help. Not that Trey isn’t very glad he did! But still… he didn’t negotiate a salary, or discuss hours, or perks, or anything. Chenya is one thing. His family is extremely wealthy, and Trey is pretty sure that they gave him a trust fund early on in his childhood. Also he’s CHENYA. Mischievous and thoroughly willing to play pranks, but ultimately he’s kind. He’s so kind that it’s almost a little scary. He literally just put in a decent day’s work for giggles, and unlimited access to cinnamon buns. THAT HE PAID FOR. A real employee would run him at least twelve madol an hour, plus perks like free lunches and leftovers to take home.

Cater, on the other hand, is not rich. He’s never willingly worked for free, and even then, he often had an ulterior motive, like taking pictures for his magicam feed, or avoiding Riddle’s ire. Does he have an angle here…? 

Trey walks up the stairs to his apartment with an exhausted sigh. He’ll have to ask him in the morning. Twelve hours on his feet is a looooong time...