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ashintheairlikesnow · 5 years

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Cry for Help

Colton and the Host, referenced in this piece, are OCs who belong to @shameless-whumper.

CW: Owen is a violent abuser, and in this update the violence comes out in a big way, both verbal and physical. Kauri is an abuse survivor with patterns of justification and affection. Features noncon touching, choking, violent abuse, referenced dubcon/noncon. Please be safe.

Tagging: @maybeawhumpblog, @pepperonyscience, @haro-whumps, @18-toe-beans, @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @giggly-evil-puppy, @whimpers-and-whumpers, @whump-it, @lumpofwhump, @pumpkinthefangirl

“‘I hope Owen gets arrested, that sick fuck.’”

Owen reads the words out loud, pronouncing each syllable altogether too clearly, the glass of brown liquor in his hand holding Kauri’s frightened attention where he sits on the floor next to the coffee table, eyes carefully averted from the laptop’s screen.

The Host had put up a new video, featuring some story someone had written about Colton and Kauri and put up on the internet - and Kauri’s day had gone from secretly exciting to terrifying with unsettling speed.

He'd liked the video of the Host and Colton reading, actually - liked the way Colton had gotten into it a little in the middle. It felt almost like talking to him, or maybe just getting to see him talk to someone else. He kind of wanted to hear the bits where they were kissing again, even if the ending was sad.

Kauri could overlook a sad ending, if there were parts in the middle where things were okay, and he got to kiss someone he actually wanted to kiss.

Not that he wanted to, um-

Kauri made himself stop thinking that way, worried Owen might notice his red face and ask oh, you like that fucking pet that much? And Kauri was a good liar, but not when he was caught off guard.

The thing was, Kauri had really liked the video - up until Colton got upset at the end, when Kauri couldn’t stop himself from fidgeting with the urge to somehow soothe someone from miles and miles away - but Owen hadn’t liked it. Not at all.

Normally he watched the videos at least three times the first day, but he'd only watched that video once. He'd muttered, he's my fucking property. I'm not the bad guy, here, you fucking hacks can't write for shit - how the fuck did they know about your weird bullshit with my Roomba? Shit, it has to be someone I know who wrote this.

Then he started drinking.

Owen is still drinking, hours later. He hasn't watched the YouTube video again. Instead, he's doing something far, far worse - reading the comments.

People had linked to other stories about them, too, sharing recommendations and favorites, and it seemed like all the writing made Owen furious.

All he would say about whatever he saw was like fuck you’d ever be that forward. Baking cookies… fucking nonsense. Besides, I’d never let him get anywhere near you.

Too late, Kauri kept thinking, again and again, trying not to betray a single thought with his expression. Inwardly he felt thrilled, defiant, like he was keeping the world’s biggest secret all to himself. Too late, he’s already gotten near me, too late, he is what I think my type was if my type was guys, I've been thinking about him when I'm with you, too late too late too late.

You don't know I can still feel the hug.

You don't know how many protocols I would violate.

Owen wouldn’t stop reading, and he wouldn’t stop drinking, and Kauri started to become afraid... especially when finishing one bottle turned into opening the second.

His defiant private thoughts turn slowly to silent pleading.

Please please please close the laptop. Please put the bottle away. Please stop being so angry.

But Owen just keeps reading, and drinking, and there's nothing to do but wait.

Now he’s wrapped in one of Owen’s soft blankets, wearing the cashmere sweater he’d worn to meet Karen Renford and fuzzy fleece-lined black pants. It's too warm for all those things but the bourbon in Owen’s glass keeps his blood running cold and if he lets the blanket fall, he starts to shiver.

“Kauri, listen to these fucking assholes. This lady used her actual name? How stupid can you be? Anyway, Michaela Tompson. ‘Poor kids. I used to like Owen Grant, but now I guess I will burn all merch.” Owen snorts, eyebrows furrowed in dark anger over his eyes.

Kauri watches the liquid slosh around in the glass, and feels the nearly-healed bruise on the side of his neck ache in what might be phantom pain, or maybe just getting ready for the future. He curls up a little tighter.

“Go ahead, Micaela, stop buying merch.” Owen spits the words at the woman who cannot hear him. “My money’s all in the fucking stock market now, you stupid bitch."

Next to him on the floor, Keira beeps four times, slow and soft, a question. Kauri reaches one hand out from the blanket to lay it on her warm plastic and metal exterior. She whirrs beneath his touch and he thinks it's like the feeling of a cat purring even though he doesn't know what that's like… does he?

He can’t take his eyes off the drink or the half-empty bottle on the table. Can't stop looking up towards Owen's face, reading the simmering, awful rage there and trying to predict when it will be turned in his direction.

I am going to get hurt tonight, but I don’t know how yet.

It's a horrible feeling, a sick drop of inevitability in his stomach that makes him want to flinch every time Owen moves.

He feels trapped, penned in, locked up with someone dangerous that he cannot run away from. He doesn't even want to run, not really. He just wants Owen to stop being so angry about nothing, go back to touching him like normal, to holding him on the couch and making him watch things that make him uncomfortable or nervous.

This is just words. It’s just stuff people wrote, it was just Colton's annoyed and wonderful red face in the video, it was just words, and Kauri only knows what they are when Owen says them out loud.

And then argues with them.

It's just words, that's all, but Kauri remembers knowing once upon a time how important words can be. Before they took words away from him.

Oh, pets don't read. It'd just give you ideas, Kor-Bore.

Colton still gets to read, though, and that means what Owen told him - that all pets aren’t allowed - was a lie.

Kauri tells Owen a lot of lies, but he’s beginning to wonder what Owen has lied to him about.

"Let’s see who else… Bennyshere99 said, ‘Who thought this senator’s brat is so miserable he needed to buy a living s*x toy?’ Man, fuck that asshole. That’s not what you are, is it, Kor-Bore?”

Kauri jumps when Owen says his name, jerking his eyes from the glass to Owen’s. The green is a little glazed over with alcohol, and he swallows against his fear and answers in the softest, sweetest voice he can manage. “N-No, Mr. Owen. I’m a Romantic Companion with Combination skillsets-”

“Or at least if you are, you're the best fucking toy money can buy. Can't find you next to some sticky fucking DVDs," Owen mutters, interrupting him, ignoring - or simply not caring about - the stricken look on Kauri's face.

It’s one thing to know you’re a designated Romantic Companion Box Boy. It’s another thing to hear yourself called a toy.

“‘He looks just like Daddy Shield-'” Owen’s voice cuts off, and his teeth grind together. “See, that's the one thing I don’t like about the Host, they have a thing for Vince just like every-fucking-body does now. They don’t know who he is at all, they don’t know he’s just a fucking tease. You know? I mean, I could tell them about him, but… no one gets it. He puts on that stupid Good Boy Next Door act and every-fucking-body buys it. He came on to me, Kauri. Then he has the fucking gall… I overreacted, sure, but he's the one who started it...” Kauri watches him take another drink, the way his throat shifts, Adam’s apple moving as he swallows another mouthful.

He is going to hurt me again.

Owen is safe.

Owen is safe and he hurts me… and for me those are the same thing.

“Let’s see… ‘How likely is it there would be some person in the Box Boy system that looks just like him? And Owen Grant is the one to buy him? Weren’t he and Vincent Shield dating or whatever way back when’-... we weren’t dating, you fucking assholes. Although we should have been, if it weren't for Vince. Did you know, Kor-Bore, he hasn't even dated anyone except that fucking fake girlfriend since he walked out on me? He knows, he knows we were meant to be together and he ruined it!" Owen's hand slams down in a fist on the coffee table hard enough to rattle the laptop and half-empty bottle.

The sound makes Kauri jump, his heart skipping a beat, eyes wide. When he shrinks into his blanket, Owen glances at him and smirks.

"What's your problem?"

"J-just surprised, Mr. Owen, that's, um, that's all," Kauri squeaks.

"Jesus, you're like a mouse." Owen leans over and his attempt to grab at Kauri's chin goes wide at first, before thumb and forefinger grasp hard enough to hurt, forcing Kauri's eyes up to his. "Good thing you're pretty, you don't have much else in there, do you?"

Kauri doesn’t nod, or shake his head. He only stares, wide-eyed, and that seems to be enough.

Owen looks at him, licking his lips, thinking. "You are pretty, though, all this bullshit these assholes wrote… they didn't get that wrong."

Kauri knows this look, this voice - normally it makes him a little sick at the same time his training kicks in to get him to tilt his head and smile and use your nonverbal cues, it's not like it's hard.

Please, please don't, I don't want to learn- Hands twisting in his hair, forcing him down until his chest is on the floor and his hips in the air, spinning with dizziness from last eating two days ago, staring down at the boots of his trainer, the pain of the shock collar when his legs don't spread fast enough, far enough. Please!

He knew Owen's look the first day he came here, knew to smile and look like he wanted it, because no one touched him anymore, he wanted someone to touch him.

Sometimes Owen's look made him sick. Tonight, he feels desperate for it.

Please, yes, that's better, that doesn't hurt and you'll stop drinking.

The moment of deliberation ends with Owen shoving Kauri's chin to the side roughly as he lets go, making him fall back a little so he has to catch himself with one hand to stay up. Then Owen ruffles his hair with a hand that slaps down too heavily on his head, painfully tangles on his curls, all but yanks his head to the side. He winces, biting his lower lip, but Owen doesn't notice or doesn't care.

"Well," he says, turning back to the screen, "Whatever happened with Vince… At least I have you now and you're not going anywhere... Let's see the next one... ‘I’m sure this position is just so he is easier to wash’. Ha, nice.” Owen smirks, glancing down at Kauri. “Easier after ess eee ex, am I right?”

Kauri’s face flames red when Owen winks, Kauri's hand under the blanket digging tightly into the fabric of the soft pajama pants over his thigh. The lurch of sickness in his stomach fights with the dizzy rush of shame for what he is and what he does and remembers, sometimes, that he doesn't want to do. “I, I don’t-”

“Oh shit, that’s literally the next comment! Great fucking minds.” Owen grins back at him, and then he barks a laugh that makes Kauri drop his eyes back to the floor. “Look at your face! Kor-Bore if you don’t think everyone knows what I keep you for now…”

Hold position, 645898.

Pl-please, you can’t just m-m-make people do this, you can’t!

I said hold position.

No! I won't!

Administer shock.

Kauri hears distant screaming inside his mind, his own voice, feels his hands twitch with the memory of pain that spread from the collar around his throat.

“M-Mr. Owen, if I could just-... if I c-could maybe go to bed, please, we could go together-”

“No.” Owen refills his glass, takes another swig. His words aren’t slurred like last time, when he called Kauri ‘Vince’ and cried against his shoulder while it hurt and hurt and hurt. This bitter humor is scarier than his sadness was. “You stay right the fuck there, sweetness.”

He’s never called Kauri ‘sweetness’ before, but someone else has.

Oh, it’s the pretty little prostitot back to visit the real handler, huh? What’d he do this time, Everly?

645898 fucking bit me, Connor. He fucking bit me. I asked the supe to hand him over to you for a week to get his fucking shit in line. Marisa signed off on it, so congratulations. The only rule is you don’t touch the merchandise below the belt and you don't leave marks.

Ha. Not where anyone will notice, anyway.

No, remember, this one’s custom and the Director’s got an interest in it. Don’t leave any fucking marks, Connor.

Aw, but marks are how they learn.

Not this one. But he’ll do anything for a good touch these days.

Apparently he’s not into your good touch, if he bit you.

Yeah, well, maybe I… had a little too much fun with Position 21 this morning.

Oh shit, you mean he bit you bit you. I would, too, if you tried that shit on me. All right, 645898, let’s see… oh, sweetness, we are going to have fun teaching you not to bite anymore, aren’t we? I’d ask if you can keep a secret, but we both know you and the rocks you have in your head won’t remember a goddamn thing.

Kauri’s eyes shift towards the screen of the laptop, trying to distract himself from the memory of the dark-haired handler’s gloved hands pressing on either side of his jaw until his mouth was forced open. Trainers weren't supposed to get so involved but it wasn't like the trainees could complain to anyone and if no one saw it happen, then no one really cared.

Kauri had thrown up, was punished, and then he'd thrown up again. He was supposed to forget it - the memory of how they train you is supposed to be gone behind the wall of pain and fog and whatever they put in the water, with only the training itself left behind, there was a whole part of the brochure he had to memorize about it - but Kauri’s wall isn’t always functioning anymore.

Maybe it never was.

Owen is still reading comments, the screen a flat white covered in text, and Kauri braces against even the instinctive attempt to read them. The sharp pain in his head is nearly instantaneous, a sudden pounding, the threat of the white fog just behind it.

But Colton gets to read.

Kauri’s not exactly jealous - he wouldn’t want to live with the Host, either, with those too-wide smiles and the sharpness behind their eyes. Owen at least was soft, sometimes, and said sweet things that didn’t always have a bite or an insult behind them. But… but he is jealous that Colton gets to read.

Reading used to be my life. I used to write poetry. I can’t even look at words anymore.

Kauri remembers too much right now, and he doesn’t want the white fog to take it away again. Instead, he drops his eyes back to the ground and slowly nods. His heart is beating too hard, too fast, but Keira doesn’t say anything.

Keira doesn’t ask why, this time, and he knows she’s tracking his condition because she always is, and the soft sound of her inside machinery has changed.

He wants to believe she doesn’t want Owen to know he’s upset.

“Some weirdo named @burtlederp said, ‘Oh, is the Host doing product placement for the new Fifty Shades of Gray movie’?” Owen barked a laugh, reaching over to run a hand down his cheek and the side of his neck. Even with the nervous worry that pounded behind his eyes every time he looked at Owen’s glassy green gaze, the touch feels nice the same way all soft touch feels nice, and Kauri leans into it. "Like I'd ever let anyone else see how much you like that."

On his knees with his hands behind his back, the black leather cutting across pale skin, the pain he wasn't trained for. Owen’s tie on the floor, making Kauri’s mouth go dry.

Kauri's stomach flips again and he bites down on his lower lip so hard he feels the pain radiate out into the rest of his face. It settles under his skin alongside the shame he feels, that he’s not supposed to be able to feel any longer. The training was supposed to make him shameless.

But Kauri feels twisted, and dark, and wrong with the way Owen smiles at him now, before turning back to the screen.

I didn't want this, not with you, I didn’t want-

"'... to be fucked by a closeted gay with Mommy issues and an ego overblown by fame'..." Owen is still mumbling the comments out loud, sipping and sipping from his glass, and Kauri's eyes skip back, trying to measure how much he's had to drink by now. "'His mom's conservative, so he must have a hard time'. Yeah, that's the fucking truth, LesbiansUnite. You get it. Shove it, ChewwieCan. Oh, this guy just says they love the Host, what a good job they did, like always. Good, nice to see a nice damn comment on this page…"

He stops, the good humor draining from his face, and Kauri’s heart stills, too.

“‘I want to see Colton and Kauri interact more.’ You barely fucking interacted that time. 'Colton looked so sad at losing Kauri… the Host should read one where they get to be together' - never, Kauri, never. Listen to me, listen. I will make sure you never, ever get to have anyone but me. ‘SaveKauri20XX’ oh what the fuck, save you from what?” Owen rounds on him, like he was the one asking to be saved, and Kauri wilts back into his blanket, pulls it more tightly around himself.

Just a pair of frightened blue eyes and curly black hair.

The condo is huge but in this moment Kauri feels like it is slowly getting smaller, closing in around him. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

Owen knocks the edge of the glass into Kauri’s forehead hard enough to hurt, in a way he seems to think is playful, but it feels like the opening to something much, much worse to Kauri. “What do you need saved from, huh? Save you from never having to work a day in your life? From having all the time you fucking need to practice your positions, and do yoga, and, and-... like cardio and shit? Save you from flexibility?”

Kauri says nothing - only swallows the hints of bitterness that want to find their way out. He stays quiet. He tries not to look into Owen’s empty, glittering eyes.

“Listen to these fucking assholes, Kauri. They want you out there starving in the streets instead of right here, where you’re taken care of. They act like they care about you, Kauri, but they don’t. If they did, they’d know that you are exactly where you’re supposed to be. Doing exactly what you’re made to do. Listen to this-” Owen turns back, takes another long drink. “‘This was so precious,’” and he sneers the words, finally starting to slur the syllables. “Colton is so sweet, being sad about losing him. Exclamation. Point.’ Yeah, sweet as pie, that little shit glared at me. He fucking glared at me. How dare he. ‘Kauri is too good for Owen anyway’.”

Owen glances over at him again, and Kauri sits up a little straighter. His heart is pounding in his chest, he’s half-dizzy with fear, breathing in silent shallow gasps that barely move his chest.

Please stop reading them, please stop, please-

“What do you think, Kauri?” Owen asks, in a low voice. “Are you too good for me? Do you like Colton better?”

Yes.

“No,” Kauri says with all the earnest sincerity he can force into his lie. “Of c-course not, Mr. Owen. I’m yours, I was made for you. Colt-” His voice hitches, just a little, but he covers it with more fear and Owen softens, just a little - he always forgives Kauri when he seems really, really frightened. “Colton’s just another pet. I don’t care about him. We don’t care about each other, that’s not how it works.”

Owen stares at him, and Kauri thinks for a second he didn’t buy the lie, and he wonders what part of his skin will be torn up this time, and if Owen will bring out the cane maybe or just use his teeth. Then he relaxes, his green eyes going soft with affection or maybe just the whiskey. “That’s right, you don’t care about each other. That’s right.”

He turns back to the laptop, and just as he opens his mouth to read another comment, his phone lights up with a photo at the front and a 70’s rock song starts playing, She’s just a devil woman, with evil in her eyes.

Kauri’s heart leaps with gratitude that she would call now and distract him, pull him away. Owen picks up his phone, screws his face up into an expression of annoyance that Kauri knows too well, and then says tiredly, “Mom, I don’t want to talk about the Youtube thing any longer.”

Tinny, a voice he can barely hear, Carlotta Grant snaps through the phone well what you want to talk about went out the window when you had your little custom slut spread his legs for my constituency to see!

“Look, I didn’t know they were going to have him do that part, I-” Owen pushes himself to standing, glancing down at Kauri, holding out his hand with the fingers straight and palm out, and Kauri nods quickly to show he understands the command to stay right where he is. “Mom. Mom, listen to me, that wasn’t pre-planned or anything. The Host just likes to surprise people. It’s fine, it’s not like everyone doesn’t already know what Box Boys end up doing half the time.”

We are getting inundated with calls about you!

“I don’t doubt it. Look, you don’t need to freak out about this.”

I am not ‘freaking out’, Owen John, this could severely affect our chances in the next election!

“No, it won’t. Listen, everyone loves a good ‘maternal love conquers all’ story. Just tell them that you didn’t know, but you still love me anyway. Act all shocked about it. Give a press conference, or something. Stop trying to hide from who I am and just, just let me fucking own it.” He nudges Kauri with his foot and grins down at him “Like I own Kauri.”

Kauri smiles back, nervous and trembling, blanket pulled as tightly around himself as he can get. As Owen shifts away from him, Kauri can’t hear Carlotta any longer, but Owen rolls his eyes and that tells Kauri most of what he might want to know.

“What? Yeah, ‘course he’s here, Mom, where else would he be? … No, it’s not like it matters what he overhears. That’s like giving a shit if the fish in your aquarium hear us. Kauri barely has the brains of a goat, I made sure of it.”

645898, says here you were a 4.0 at your university. English Education with a minor in… shit, Connor, listen to this bullshit. Minor in Creative Writing.

What, really? Oh shit, man. There had been glee in the Connor Trainer’s voice. Kauri’s - 645898’s - trainer and the Connor trainer had been really good friends, and even though Connor only worked with the really disobedient Box Boys, 645898’s trainer talked to him all the time. Oh, fuck. So this hot piece of ass wanted to be a teacher? A writing teacher?

I know right? We’re going to take a fucking honors student and put him in some rich asshole's bed. I must have made the Director real happy somewhere back there, you don’t get a job like this every week.

Jesus, Everly, I’d kill to get to fuck up a nerd like this.

Stop ‘bending’ the rules with the merchandise and you might get to.

Like you're one to talk.

Owen walks away and Kauri listens to his footsteps heading down the hall, fingers tightening into the fabric of his pants. Step, step, step, step - Owen’s heavy footfalls, part of the soundtrack to his life.

The bedroom door closes, and Kauri knows Owen’s conversations with his mother last for an hour most of the time. An hour for Owen to start sobering up, to lose interest in the words on the screen. An hour of safety. He lets out a quick breath, relaxing his shoulders, the way they end yoga in the videos he watched on Owen’s TV. First relax your neck, then your shoulders, arms, wrists, hands… his fingers loosen, splaying over his thighs.

The laptop screen is still up.

Owen always talks to his mom for at least an hour.

Do I have a mom, somewhere? I know I have a Keira, the other one, the real one. I know I had her. Maybe… maybe her owner lets her read, too.

Maybe the owner watches the Host, like mine does, and lets her read.

It's a long shot, but…

Kauri swallows hard, glancing back over his shoulder at the bedroom door, and then he scoots a little closer to the computer.

And then a little closer, still.

The headache starts up, a sudden burst in heart rate alongside it, and Kauri bites his lower lip, craning his neck to try and look at the words. He’s not dumb, he just has nothing to do and nothing to think about. He used to be able to read, reading and writing used to be his life. They made him dumb, just like they took everything else away from him, just like they took Keira.

But Kauri isn't the only pet who doesn't want to be one.

And Colton gets to read.

Which means that they didn’t take the skill away, they just made Kauri afraid of it. He's not stupid, they just locked the things he had learned up behind the pain.

But who he is hasn't changed.

He scoots closer, and closer, and closer, until he can read the comments, the black text on the white screen, despite the ache behind his eyes.

It was open to Kauri is too good for Owen anyway, lol… and for this sinful earth.

Kauri reads each and every word like a gift, breathing hard. A smile starts to find its way onto his face, just a little one.

Someone thought he deserved better than Owen Grant's bed.

Kauri heartrate accelerate, Kauri beeps next to him. Marked change in physical condition.

“Ssssshhh, it’s okay, Keira, it’s okay. Um, uh, don’t tell him I was reading, okay? Please? Don’t tell him anything.”

Owen Grant, owner. Overrides. Keira’s robotic little voice is quiet. Keira answer Owen Grant, if queried.

“I know, I know, but… can’t you just not tell him? Um, uh…" What has he heard Owen saying to flip the override switch… "Um... override code sixteen four ball reindeer seven two. Don't tell Mr. Owen anything, okay?"

There’s a pause. Owen Grant, owner. Keira beeps again, a little more insistently this time.

Kauri looks down at her, eyebrows furrowing together. If she tells Owen he was reading, he’ll go into the box again, into the sensory deprivation hood. He’ll be alone, with no sounds and no smells and no sights and nothing.

He hesitates, considering closing the screen and going back to sitting and staring, living with a head full of rocks just like the trainer said. Then, he slowly turns back and starts reading again.

“I’m going to trust you, Keira,” Kauri whispers. “I’m going to trust you to help me and not tell him anything.” Keira doesn’t speak or beep again, only starts her cleaning routine all at once, abruptly, like she’s mad at him and trying not to show it. Even though Owen says Roombas don’t have emotions, can’t have feelings like that.

Kauri knows she can - he knows it. He knows that Keira likes him, as much as a robot can like a person, that she seeks him out to sit in his lap on the balcony and knows when he’s sad, the days he spends when Owen is at meetings doing his yoga and positions until his muscles are trembling, just to get rid of the emptiness inside his head.

I hope Colton and Kauri run away together, the next comment reads, and Kauri blushes, biting his bottom lip nervously. The words slip and slide around the page but he chases them down, ignores the growing pain inside his head. He’s had worse headaches than this, before, when he tried to do things he’s not supposed to do.

“That would be nice,” Kauri whispers. “I don’t know where we’d go, though…”

Owen yells something through the phone at his mother and Kauri jumps, looking down the hall with a panic, but then his voice drops back to normal. He doesn’t come out, and Kauri turns back to the laptop, scooting closer and closer and closer.

Some part of Kauri whispers not to read the comments, never read the comments, stop violating his protocols, but when he keeps looking, squinting against his pounding headache, he realizes that while the comments were making Owen angry, they’re not mean comments at all.

I totally get why Colton looks so mad! I’d be mad too if I didn’t get to keep Kauri at the end! Kauri is such a cutie. I wish I had money… I would’ve treated him better, anyway. I bet Colton wishes he was rich enough to just buy a Kauri for himself!

That’s ridiculous, pets can’t own other pets. If he had that much money he’d just buy his freedom or something, right?

Yeah, but then buy Kauri after. Or at least someone who looks like him.

The Host enjoyed this all way too much, don’t you think? I mean, it seemed like they were really enjoying being so mean to poor Colton! And I don’t think they even understood what he was mad about at the end.

Yeah, I love the Host, but this one seemed kind of… cruel. Although I guess they say the pets don’t even know to care about what they are, it’s part of the training or something.

Jesus, what their parents must think about them signing up for this!

Yeah, I wondered about that with the last video, with the two Box Boys in it. What do you think Kauri’s parents think happened with their son? Do you think he told them before he signed up? I mean, say your son signs up to be some brainless sugar baby. What do you tell their siblings, you know?

Did you just literally ask us to please think of the children

What about that Colton? What must his family think, signing up for the program just to be a famous Youtuber's pet?

I mean, I'd be thrilled. Colton gets a nice bed, all his meals taken care of, and all he has to do is play along reading fucking fanfiction? That sounds like my ideal life.

I used to think people were overreacting, you know all the fucking snowflakes these days freaking out about every single thing. But… this seems really weird, right? I can’t believe this is reality now.

I KNOW WHO COLTON IS

Do you think anyone’s shown Vincent Shield all this shit about the Cory kid?

Kauri wonders, too, after having to answer to the name - after seeing the Host’s genuine surprise at his face, after hearing Owen lie and say it was random when he’d told Kauri over and over that he was a custom order that had to look a specific way. Is the person he’s meant to replace for Owen out there looking at his face, knowing who he is?

Click on my profile to win a FREE box boy AND 1000 subscribers!!!

Honestly kind of disappointed there wasn’t anything about the YOU KNOW WHAT positions in this fanfiction so we could see Colton make that funny face again! Anyone got a link to a good smutty one?

Oh, I know I saw one where Colton gets really dark and mean and the Cory boy super likes it, l’ll go find the link and message it to you.

Oh fuck yes, give me all the good smut

Oh, I saw one where they’re in love, it was really super cute, let me get that one too

Real disappointed Youtube won’t let the Host read the really good stuff. I’ve watched that competition video like six times on repeat, if you get my drift. Kauri’s like, super sexy.

Kauri’s eyes widen at that one, the red back in his face, an uncomfortable heat.

I’ll see myself out, I swear, but… those soft eyes? That lip all stuck out when he gets scared?

Kauri catches himself still biting on his lip and stops, pressing them together into a thin line, swallowing hard.

You just want to kiss his tears away and fuck him slow and glorious. Make him the happiest man in the world.

Hell yes, I’d fuck him. Pet or not, you think the Host and Colton didn't want some of that action, too? I'd bet the Host's Lamborghini that they did.

Do Lamborghinis even have spacious enough seats for that?

I'll bet the Host knows the answer to that question.

Ha, by now Colton probably does, too. Think he closes his eyes and thinks about Cory?

Kauri makes a face, but he reads the comment again, lingering a little over the idea that people other than Owen (one person) might think of him that way, that maybe someone else thinks of him while he is busy thinking of them.

He reads the comments again… and then one more time.

The whole time he can hear Owen’s voice muffled back in his bedroom, and he keeps one ear out for it while reading what people say about him.

Anyone else concerned about Kauri??? Someone needs to help that poor boy. Colton seems like he can handle himself but Kauri was so fragile! He looked like he’d shatter if he got one more shock from those barbaric shock collars.

It’s just a discipline tool, it’s not a big deal. It doesn’t even leave a mark.

You can torture someone without leaving any marks, you jackass!

What do you guys think would happen if their families saw these videos? Like, what if Colton’s got a sister or something who sees him being used as a prop in the Host’s videos? Or what if Kauri has parents out there, and they see him do that, that thing he did in the last video?

What, spread his legs? He probably does that every night. He doesn't care. Romantic pets know what they're for.

Kauri swallows, hard, as much because it's true as that he doesn't really want to be for that. His hands start to shake, and he takes in a deep breath, and then another. Then he slowly raises them, lays them over the keys on the keyboard. His heart beats hard in his throat, making him breathe in gasps, terrified little nothing-sounds coming helplessly from his lips.

He hits the REPLY button, gives himself a temporary username - it all comes back easily to him, he used to use computers all the time, and his body remembers how to do it even if his brain isn’t supposed to any longer.

He finds a comment he wants to answer.

Kauri would look so pretty with long hair...

His head hurts worse and worse and worse, and he can barely keep his fingers moving, eyes squinted down to slits until he can’t read the blurry black text he’s typing at all.

Tehfogcmesin0414: kauri has a sistrr with long hair her naem is keira help her cheep cheep littl brds keera I miss you I'm sorry I didn lisen to you you were right

There’s a crack of white light inside his head followed a half-second later by an explosion of pain but Kauri grinds his teeth together as hard as he can, holds onto consciousness with every ounce of strength he has left, and keeps looking.

All he can hear now is the pounding of his own blood behind his face, in his neck, down to his wrists. The rushing in his ears overtakes every other sound.

If they can find Keira, she can tell them who he is. She might be hurt but maybe not, maybe she's out there somewhere and he remembers her, she is his twin, she won't stop looking, he knows it.

Someone will read it and see it and show Keira. Someone will.

Keira will see it and she will know he’s here and he doesn’t want to be, she’ll know, she’ll tell them his name is-

Not. Erased.

Kauri gasps at the knowledge comes back to him, all at once, the words like big black block letters against the white trying to take over his mind. He knows his real name. He knows who he is. He knows where he came from, and what happened when they put him and Keira in the van.

He remembers the prick of the needle and he remembers Karen Renford’s face the first time he ever saw her.

You have agreed to participate in a very special program, 645898.

Stop calling me a fucking number! I have a, a name! Where's my sister?!

That is not important. What matters is that you are going to serve a very special purpose soon. Haven't you always wanted a purpose?

Take me back to my sister! Please, you've got the wrong people, we're just-... we're just college kids, we're not even from here!

Oh, 645898. Do you genuinely not understand that your market value rises with that fact? We need an asset in place to utilize the leverage when Mr. Grant's browsing becomes buying.

I'm not anyone's fucking pet, you bitch!

You will be. It is time for you to forget.

But he remembers.

He remembers, he remembers, he remembers.

The pounding pain inside his skull tells him he’s not going to remember for very long. Memories slide and slip through and around his thoughts, disappearing and reappearing and sinking down again.

He doesn’t get to know his own name, no Box Boy gets to know their own name, but… but maybe they can remember someone else’s. The Facility won’t know to tell someone else not to know his name…

There's just one person he can think of.

He scrolls back up to the top, where the Host has a link to send a message. Colton reads a lot of the messages, now. They said so in a video, that Colton reads and answers and sometimes the Host doesn't even look for days. Which means Colton will read this message.

He has to.

He’s the only person in the world Kauri might be able to trust.

Owen is

SAFE

not safe

I CAN TRUST

can’t trust

Owen

Colton is a

PET

a person

who IS SERVING A PURPOSE

needs help too

I can FOLLOW PROTOCOLS

remember

FORGET

remember who I am

SERVE

remember

Kauri swallows hard, half-blind, the white encroaching from every corner of his mind to overtake it. His heart won’t stop pounding, and he can hear Keira beeping high-pitched and loud, but only barely. It’s a soft noise, it can’t be louder than the noise inside his head.

Kauri reassurance require

"No."

Kauri ceases action causing physical distress?

"Not until I tell him."

Keira request Kauri ceases action-

"No! We can help each other! I know we can, I just, he just has to remember this, they won't know to make him forget a name that doesn't mean anything to him!"

Except it's everything to Kauri.

Kauri clicks [GOT A QUESTION? I GOT ANSWERS!] and types out a message, as fast as he can, a rush of keyboard clicking.

plees have colton red this. hard for Me to tYpe rite Now And My fingErs hurt If you See this Lissen, it's Important some Arent signups soMe get taken didn sign up its a lie their lying to us

He sends it, opens up a second message, fingers numb, heart racing, eyes a blur of pounding, throbbing ache.

Colton remmbr for me my naem is

ERASED

The pain is gone and the world is white and white and dark and then the world is nothing at all.

Kauri wakes up on his side on the floor next to the coffee table, blinking hard, his headache gone like it had never been there, tangled in the blanket. “Oh, what did I-”

His eyes light on bare feet, the bottom of Owen's pants, and then they travel up and up and up.

Owen is leaning over him, and the green eyes are like hard chips of stone, focused right on him. He reaches down and grabs Kauri, digging fingers into the back of his neck as jerking him halfway upright with a surprised cry, before slamming him back down, cracking his forehead on the corner of the coffee table.

Flash of light and pain, tearing thin skin, and the sudden sting of red blood dripping onto cream colored carpet. "Ah, hnnnh, Mr., Mr. Owen, I don't, I don't uh-understand-"

“You little piece of shit,” Owen hisses, a half-whisper of rage, slamming Kauri down again, a burst of terrible light, the pain that comes just after. The world spins, and when Owen lets go Kauri stays on his hands and knees, breathing in pants along with the rhythm of the pain pulsing with his blood.

There’s an arc of blood on the carpet.

Kauri thinks with wild irrationality, The cleaning lady will hate that I made that happen, too.

“What the fuck did you do?”

He points, and Kauri follows his gesture with dazed eyes, looking over to the laptop to see the words MESSAGE SENT on the screen.

It sent.

He doesn't know his name anymore, but he knows he knew it, and he sent it to Colton, and someone out there will know who he was, will know that he didn’t sign, that it wasn’t his idea.

Someone who can read.

Someone who can write it down.

He feels thrilled, and terrified, and guilty.

But mostly terrified.

Owen’s hand snaps out to grab him by one arm and pull him to his feet, rough and bruising, and Kauri cries out when Owen throws him by his arm across the room, still dizzy from hitting his head.

“What. The fuck. Did you. Do?!”

Kauri stumbles, trips and falls, slams hard into the bookshelf, DVD and Blu-Ray cases raining down on him, one of Owen’s statues from a trip to Africa smacking hard into the middle of his back and he whimpers at the sudden flare of pain.

I’m not trained for pain

Owen stalks over to him, grabs him, throws him again, and this time Kauri bangs his shoulder into the corner of the entertainment center, tries to twist away from the next grip but he can't move fast enough.

Shoved hard into a wall with his head cracking back into it, the world is a sudden flash and then Owen's hands are on his shoulders gripping tight, too tight. His fingers hurt they press so hard into skin. Kauri stares, blood trickling from a wide, shallow cut across his forehead.

He can feel the warmth of it turning cold as he stares up at Owen’s furious face.

“I d-didn’t do anything! I didn’t! I just, I just, I remembered that I didn’t… I didn’t sign up. It wasn’t my choice, I didn’t choose this! You said, you said they showed you my contract but I didn’t sign it! I didn’t sign it. You have to, you know the ethics people… I think I’m from Illinois, I think, I think my sister and I were stolen!"

Owen starts to laugh. It’s a drunken, unkind, slurred bleary pissed-off sound.

“You stupid little whore." Owen tightens the hands on his shoulders until Kauri whines in his throat at the ache. When he tries to raise a hand - just to wipe away blood - Owen jerks him forward and then slams him back again, head slamming back into the wall with another burst of awful white and black sparks, and Kauri whimpers, trying desperately to curl in on himself. "Jesus, they really went the full nine yards making you dumb. Did you really think I didn’t know exactly where you came from? Of course I know about that. And your stupid sister. You’re not supposed to remember any of it. What did you send the Host?”

Kauri licks his lips, eyes wide. “You already knew? But, but you said-”

“I lied. I know exactly where you fucking came from. You think I give a fuck about how they got you back to me, Vince?” Owen snorts, disgusted with him, and Kauri has loved him so much and knows with real certainty that what Owen feels for him is not anything close to love at all. “What did you send them? Was it that pet you were trying to talk to? You like him so fucking much, huh? Think he'll see your little message and come rescue you? He's gonna be your fucking prince charming, Kauri? You stupid fucking whore, no one wants you but me. No one ever will. I wanted you dumb as shit, but this is something else. What did you send?”

“Nothing,” Kauri whispers. “I couldn’t see well enough to type, it was nonsense, I-”

“Fuck that. I’ll just wait until they respond, I know they respond to all their messages. I’ll figure out which one is you, but no one’s going to believe you… and you won’t get to see what anyone has to say.”

“I won't?” Kauri whispers, and when Owen leans in to kiss him - bruising, a crush of lips and teeth and tongue that isn't affection but ownership - there’s nowhere for him to go, nowhere for him to hide. He tries to tilt his chin up, to answer it, but it isn’t the kind of kiss you can answer, only the kind you have to endure until it’s done.

The smell of his cologne surrounds Kauri, cedar-y and woodsy, and usually Kauri smells it as something soothing and sexy, but in this moment it only makes his heart beat harder in fear, the terror of how badly he has messed this up, how much he will hurt in the morning.

“You know you’re not allowed to read and write, Kauri,” Owen says with deceptive gentleness, letting go of his shoulder to run fingers through his hair, twisting in the black curls until it hurts, until Kauri winces against the pain outside and in. “I’m going to have to have them fix that for me. I’m going to have to fix it.”

Owen's mouth drops to his neck, a press of warm tongue and lips, and Kauri shivers at how good it feels even as he quavers in fear of what might come next, even as the rest of him aches.

“Oh, Kauri,” Owen breathes into his neck, real regret in his voice. “You know better. I’ll make sure you never read anything ever again. Being able to send messages is the first step to leaving me, Kauri. I couldn’t take it if you did that, just like him. I would die if you left me. You wouldn’t ever leave me, would you? Would you, Kauri?”

Owen raises his head to look him in the eyes. He looks calm. Serene.

Kauri is trapped, he thinks, with a monster.

“N-No, Owen,” Kauri says softly, shaking his head. “I love you, I wouldn’t… You, you said-”

“You call me Mr. Owen.” “Mr. Owen,” Kauri whispers. “I’m sorry.”

“I said I’d never, ever let you leave, Vince. Not again.”

Kauri swallows, hard, as the hand that was so gentle in his hair slowly slides down to close around his throat. “I’m, I’m not Vince.”

"Ssshhhhh, shut up. You left once. I knocked out your teeth, I kept you locked up for days and I fucked you up I loved you so much but you still left me." Owen's thumb drifts back and forth across his Adam's apple, considering, and there is a bright madness in his eyes that Kauri has only seen once before. “You left me once. I won’t let you leave again.”

This is how he will hurt me.

Owen’s grip begins to tighten, and Kauri breathes in deeply as fast as he can, hoping he can hold his breath. Breaths turn to gasps, spots dancing in his vision, trying to breathe through a straw.

HELP KAURI. Keira's voice is high-pitched, loud, insistent.

"No," Owen whispers, then the volume of his voice raises louder and louder. "Vince, you stupid little slut, you don't get to leave me. Never again. Never again. How dare you, you piece of shit, you were meant for me, we were meant for each other!”

He’s screaming by the end of it, spit in Kauri’s face, making him flinch back in terror, his eyes wide, certain that this is it, this is how he dies. Owners aren’t allowed to kill pets but no one’s going to stop him and it wouldn’t matter if someone found out, Kauri would still be dead.

He's going to kill me and it's not even me he's killing.

Kauri scrabbles at Owen's hands with his own in a sudden panicked desperate attempt to survive, fingernails digging desperately into skin and Keira is screaming HELP KAURI HELP KAURI HELP KAURI at their feet until Owen kicks her viciously away.

Keira slams into the corner of the coffee table's leg, and Kauri hears a horrible crack before her machinery goes silent. He tries to scream but all that comes out is a whistle of what little air he has left.

"Keira! N-no, pl-please, I'm sorry, I'm sorry-" Kauri chokes out the words, a hissing airy whimper, but Owen tightens his grip and cuts even more air off until his voice is gone, lost in the desperate fight to breathe and the incredible suffocating pain.

"I'll make sure you never fucking leave," Owen murmurs, his voice gentle and loving. "You'll never, ever walk away from me. I'll figure out what you told the Host and I'll make sure it's fucking wiped from your memory. If it isn't… doesn't matter. You're not leaving me. I'll kill you first."

His hands around Kauri’s throat feel like metal, worse than the choke-chain in training. Kauri’s hands come up to close over the wrists, feeling Owen’s tendons standing out in his forearms, staring with wide, pleading eyes, begging without words for Owen to please, please let him breathe.

I'm sorry, Keira, I'm so fucking sorry I didn't listen to you…

I hope someone remembers my name.

The world around Kauri sparks once more and then fades to black. The last thing Kauri hears is Owen's heavy breathing and his own final gasp.

240 notes · View notes

ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

Text

Hunted Down, Part Two

CW: Explicit dubcon (both sides), noncon kissing and touching, drug use (not by our whumpees), violent emotional and physical abuse, emotional manipulation. Kauri is an abuse survivor struggling with self-blame. Stay safe.

Collaborative piece with @spiffythespook. TIMELINE: Takes place after Kauri’s break-up with Derrick, so this is the piece that takes place the farthest in Kauri’s future so far. Jack belongs to @spiffythespook.

Tagging Jack and Kauri’s crews: @maybeawhumpblog, @pepperonyscience, @haro-whumps, @18-toe-beans, @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @giggly-evil-puppy, @whimpers-and-whumpers, @moose-teeth, @whump-it, @lumpofwhump, @pumpkinthefangirl, @spiffythespook, @slaintetowhump @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @rivertamandspike, @iaminamoodymoodtoday, @imagination1reality0

PART ONE

"This didn't have to happen," Owen said quietly. "It wasn't my fault. You did this, Kauri."

Kauri looked defeated. Miserable. Guilty. "I… I know."

It took all of Jack’s willpower to keep his mouth shut, to keep from talking back, from telling Owen Grant what exactly was what. He managed, but not without a visible scowl and glower at the man. Don’t sass. Don’t backtalk. Don’t presume, said the mantra in his head with a shot of pain. Jack winced and grit his teeth together, and then changed his goddamn mind because he could.

“Actually, it’s one-hundred-percent your fault, Mister. You’re the one with the obsession. You’re the one who bought the car, and the thugs, and the illegal room, and the gear, and you’re the fucker who’s about to rape us,” Jack snapped, voice and hand gestures full to the top with anger. “It ain’t his fault that he got stuck with a fucking psycho bitch.”

“Jack, no-” Kauri nearly shouted, wide-eyed, moving towards him with his hands up.

Owen’s eyes flared, a sudden spike of all-consuming rage, and he dropped the manacles - and you couldn’t call them cuffs, they really were just metal manacles - to the ground again. “I am not a psycho!” He nearly shouted back, his voice ragged at the edges, his eyes still wide with fury, raising his hand.

“Yeah you fuckin’ are, psycho!” Jack raised his voice to match - he had a lot of experience in voluminous communication.

Owen moved to backhand him across the face, and Kauri stepped between them - he threw himself between them, really. He took the full force of Owen’s hand, head snapping to the side with a cry as he dropped like a stone to the ground. Owen reached down and grabbed him by the hair, using his grip on those black curls to simply throw Kauri to the side.

“Fuck off, Vince,” He growled, with no sign that he was even aware, this time, that he’d called Kauri by the wrong name. “I’ll deal with you later.”

Oh, fuck- “Kauri, just don’t-” Jack said, even as he backed away from Owen. Man, why did he always not have his pepper spray when the assholes came around? “Whatcha gonna do, huh? Gonna beat me? Taken worse’n you can dish out. Come’n’get me, freak.”

“I had not particularly intended to,” Owen said, voice low and dangerously laced with his anger. “I hadn’t. I don’t… hurting people isn’t fun. I only hurt Kauri because I had to. The same reason I hurt Vince, I had to. That’s not my fault!” The fury in him was in full force now, the jealous rage at the idea that twice in a row, Vince had decided to try and fuck off away from him, and twice he had succeeded.

Not this time.

“I’m not going to hurt him, you fucking slut. You are.” He paused, considered that, twitched a strange, mean smile. “Well, maybe I will hurt him. But you’re going to help.” His hand shot out to grab Jack by the arm and pull him towards the bed.

Jack let himself be grabbed, and moved easily toward the bed with Owen. He held his tongue now - he figured telling the guy that it was his fault again would only end badly. So he switched gears. When they got closer, he pressed against the older man, pressed his free hand over Owen’s stomach and down his waist to his hip, and put on his long-practiced boyish smile. “Look, you know what he can do. Lemme show you what I can do, Mr Owen.”

Owen paused, staring down at him, surprised. There was a beat of time - enough to take in and let out a breath, a few heartbeats - where he genuinely had no idea how to react, as it wasn’t at all what he had expected.

Then he slid an arm around Jack, in a sort of false affection, until his hand caught in the younger man’s hair and pulled his head back, slowly, inexorably, until the angle would hurt.

“I know what you can do,” He said in a low voice. “What I want right now is to see you do Kauri. I want to see what he likes so goddamn much. I want to see you hurt him, you fucking whore. Make him cry. And if you hurt him well enough, I’ll give you a couple grand and let you walk out of here with all your goddamn limbs. Karen didn’t say I couldn’t cut anything off. Understand?”

Kauri, pushing himself back up to standing with a bright red mark lighting up one side of his face, let out a choked-off sob in response.

Jack cringed in pain and his breath hitched at the deal Owen proposed. Not a good hitch - much as a couple grand would help him out, Jack didn’t take fucking blood money from anybody. He blinked quickly, hating himself for how easily the tears came now. He breathed heavily, grit his teeth in the backbend and tried to look at Kauri.

He couldn’t do that. He could fake doing that. Maybe.

“Y-yeah, I can do that,” he said, expression giving away his misery.

"Good. You little shit. I don't know how you got her to protect you, but I am going to go right to the limit of what Renford will let me do. You stole him. Convinced him to stay on the street, like a fucking prostitute, like you. He should have come home to me."

Owen dragged Jack by his hair the rest of the way to the bed, all but throwing him on there. "Sit on the bed and put your fucking wrists up." He looked over his shoulder at Kauri, who flinched at the look on his face.

Jack obeyed, wrists up. He was regretting his mouth.

"Get the chains to tie you up, Kor-Bore."

Kauri nodded, shoulders hunched over, and picked up the chains Owen had been holding before. "Y-yeah, Mr. Owen, j-just, please-" he stumbled over to him and held them out, then flinched again as Owen yanked them out of his hands.

"You on the bed, too. Now." Kauri scrambled onto the bed, next to Jack, and Owen grabbed one wrist and closed the manacle tightly around it, then went to grab Jack and do the same.

When he was done, their wrists were chained together on each side, a little slack chain between them, facing each other. Kauri looked sick with fear.

Jack swallowed tightly, glancing between Kauri and Owen. “You want me to touch him now? You wanna see me show him a good time, or hurt him? Or do ‘em in that order? I’m confused.”

“Honestly, what I want to do would kill you both-” Kauri let out a little whimper and ducked his head, shoulders shaking as he tried to force back a new rush of tears. “Oh, shut up, Kauri. This is your fault. If you hadn’t run away from me, none of this would be happening, would it? Stop acting like such a fucking victim.”

The constant refrain insisting on his responsibility seemed to hit Kauri harder each and every time, made him slump a little more into himself. He twined his fingers through Jack’s with his right hand, and squeezed as hard as he could. An apology, the best he could manage when he was too scared in the moment to trust himself to speak again. Jack squeezed his hand back.

Owen moved, setting a few other things on the bed, and then he went to a side table, dumping a small pile of white powder from a tiny vial he’d had inside his pocket, using his credit card to carefully craft a perfect straight line.

He glanced at them, eyes narrowed. “I like your idea, Jack. Get him feeling good, and then make it fucking hurt. So he understands that he deserves it to hurt when he’s not with me.”

Jack swallowed, glancing to the side with a very angry look in his eyes, lips pursed. Drugged-up assholes were a familiar nightmare. At least the guy wasn’t wasting his precious coke on them.

“Sure, man,” he muttered. He turned to Kauri and cupped the other’s cheek, apology in his eyes as he shuffled forward and pressed against him, guiding Kauri in for a tender kiss, gently seeking access to his mouth.

He slid his hand from Kauri’s cheek to his hair, tipped his head back just enough to bare his neck. Jack kissed along the smooth expanse of skin, over one side and then under the ear that was out of Owen’s view. “When I start fucking you, I need you to scream like you’re in hell. I’m not gonna hurt you if I can help it,” he murmured softly, quickly, and then bit into Kauri’s skin.

Just as Jack started to speak, Owen had leaned over the line of white powder with a bit of rolled-up paper, and the only thing he heard was the sound of the drug snorting up his nose, blasting his mind with a white haze of feeling good and perfectly in control. He took a deep breath, shaking himself a little, and chuckled.

Jack rubbed his cheek against Kauri’s. “He’s wrong. ‘S not your fault. He’s crazy and mean, and it’s not your fault.” Kauri nodded without looking up, making a noise like a strangled sob.

And then his lips were against Kauri’s skin again wetly, seeking out his lips and slipping his tongue messily into the other’s mouth. He knew what looked good.

Kauri lifted his chin for that, but he could barely even try to kiss back. His mouth was trembling, his entire body shaking like a leaf, rattling the chain that bound their wrists together softly. He didn't let go of his death-grip on Jack's hand.

He was terrified, and even more terrified that being scared would keep him from reacting the way Owen wanted, that he would get Jack in even more trouble.

Owen wiped compulsively at his nose and settled himself on the bed, back against the headboard, to watch. If anything, his pupils were even smaller.

Jack guided Kauri gently down onto his back on the bed. He gave up on kissing Kauri’s mouth, instead focusing his lips on the other boy’s neck, on stroking one hand soothingly up and down his waist. He was getting hard, but that was more years of conditioning than the situation itself. He slid down Kauri’s body and kissed his cock, resuming the blowjob he’d been giving earlier. He reached for Kauri’s hands and guided them to his head, so at least he might feel more in control.

Kauri wanted to cling to Jack more than anything, just put his arms around his neck and hold onto him until Owen was done with this stupid game and killed him for leaving. Maybe then he'd let Jack leave. Instead, he felt his wrists move slowly as Jack's hands did, pulled along by the chains that connected them, and he closed his eyes, settling onto his back and trying not to think about the weight of Owen's eyes, the little sniffled snorts he could hear.

Owen had never done drugs - not once - when Kauri had been with him.

The kisses… felt good, at least, and Kauri breathed out slowly at the flutter of pleasure, skim of lips against a cock that had stopped being hard long before they even made it into the elevator.

He took in another breath, let it out, felt Jack's soft short hair against his fingers. Jack's hair, Jack's skin, Jack's smell. If he could be good enough, Owen would let Jack go.

He was sure of it.

So he pushed his hips up, just a little, to encourage Jack to keep going, and Jack did. He sucked on the tip of Kauri’s cock gently, tongued at his slit and popped up to lick wetly over the underside. Appearance was important.

Jack cupped at his sack, rolling it gently in his hand before he licked over it. He pushed Kauri’s legs up so they were bent, and kissed down his thighs, over his perineum, made his way back from down there to Kauri’s tip. Then he took the other’s cock into his mouth, as far as he could, and held still to suck on it.

Training had made sure Kauri's fear never interfered with his ability to get hard at any positive attention and he hitched in his breath at the rush of pleasure, Jack warm and wet and familiar and good around him. He kept his hands buried in his hair, feeling the chains that held them together pull taut or slacken as Jack's own hands moved.

"Th-that's, that's good, right there," He breathed, looking down at Jack's head for just a second, feeling a whole new rush of pleasure just seeing his mouth on him.

Owen's eyes narrowed, and Kauri felt the tension change in the room, closing his eyes again. He knew why Owen shifted around suddenly, even though he didn't say anything. He never really went down on Kauri - and Kauri had his eyes closed most of the time they were together.

Kauri felt a burst of anger and used it, arching his back to thrust himself a little further into Jack's mouth, letting out a soft moan. This was what Owen wanted, right? He wanted a fucking show before he murdered Kauri for leaving? He could give him a fucking show.

"L-little, um, there, little m-more of that…"

Jack moaned around Kauri, enjoying the feeling of his cock at the back of his throat. He was happy that Kauri was initiating a little. He pressed his tongue against the underside, cheeks hollowed out as he sucked, and began to move up and down Kauri’s length.

He kept going until he tasted pre from the tip, and drew off with an obscene, wet noise. He rubbed his cheek over Kauri’s length, then pulled away and looked over at Owen.

“Gonna need a bit of lube if you want me in him. He’s not gonna be any good for you later if he’s torn up. Blood everywhere, infections, trips to the hospital where they tell ya he shouldn’t have anything in him for weeks…”

Owen snorted, his eyes sparkling and overbright, glittering with dangerous intensity. "After what he did, it's not like he deserves it," He snapped. "Besides, Vince healed up just fine."

"Did… did he…?" Kauri asked, a little hesitantly, twisting his head to look at Owen, but he didn't pull his hands back, and ran one gently over the side of Jack's face, who leaned slightly into his palm.

"... I guess I don't fuckin' know, since I haven't… well, fine." Owen snorted and stood, grabbing a bottle out of the pile of accessories he'd brought with him. He dropped it without ceremony, and Kauri flinched as the cold glass bottle landed against his hip. "Don't use too much, this shit is expensive."

“Sure. Thanks, Mister,” Jack said, taking the bottle in hand. He poured a generous amount into his palm and slicked himself first. He made sure the fingers of his one hand were coated well, and set the bottle close to his own leg - easy for his own reach, and if Grant was going to take it, he would risk touching Jack.

He started with a couple fingers rubbing firmly at Kauri’s entrance, watching his face and paying attention to his responses to determine how tense he was.

Kauri kept his eyes on Jack, then - locked on his face, trying to stare long enough to block out everything else. I'm going to get you out of here, he mouthed, trying for a smile. It trembled, but held. Jack wasn’t great at lipreading, but he figured more or less what Kauri said. His brow raised in surprise.

Training was kicking in, and Kauri relaxed almost unconsciously when Jack's fingers touched him, tension drifting out of his body, hands finally falling away from Jack, letting his head fall back.

Jack knew that sort of reaction wasn’t exactly natural - it had to be trained, like Troy had trained his reactions to certain things. He was still relieved about it now, when a normal person might tense up with the fear of the threats Owen had made. He pressed one finger in first, still testing. He leaned over Kauri to kiss him, on his lips and then in a trail down by Kauri’s ear.

Kauri's head was still tipped back, his eyes half-closed, and he was still relaxed - not boneless but not far off - under Jack's touch. He shivered at the lips on his and against his skin, breathing out in a long, slow exhale.

“When I put more in you, try to sound like it hurts,” Jack murmured. Soon, he pressed a second finger in beside the first, more quickly than he usually would so he might surprise Kauri and help with the illusion.

Kauri gasped, caught by surprise, and jerked his head to the side and away from Jack, making a soft sound of pain, clenching his eyes shut and jerking his hands like he would try to push Jack away, before he went lax again.

Owen laughed - barely a sound, really - and settled himself in, relaxing back against the headboard. "That's more like it. Fucking slut. It's going to hurt with anyone who isn't me. Go on, get on with it." He waved a hand dismissively. "You can go faster than that."

Jack grit his teeth together, pushing back his anger at the man for even thinking about shit like this. He pushed in a second finger, but slowly, thankful that Owen couldn’t see exactly what he was doing. He was careful as he scissored them open, making sure Kauri was lax enough before he started to thrust them in roughly, deeply, his entire arm making the motion. It would’ve been painful if he’d gone in dry, or if Kauri had been tense from the situation.

Kauri clenched his eyes shut as tightly as he could, making the upper half of his body as tense as he could without his lower body following suit. He made himself think about Owen hurting Jack, maybe hurting him the way he'd hurt Kauri, choking him until he blacked out and then waiting for him to wake up and choking him again.

About Owen getting so angry he didn't let Jack leave, either.

His head turned to the side, tears leaked out from his closed eyes at the idea of Jack being hurt or killed because he'd been nice to Kauri one night when Kauri just… needed help.

Owen fell for Kauri’s lie, the way he’d fallen for almost all of them.

He leaned forwards, interested in the anguish on Kauri's face, and laughed to himself, leaning over to brush some of the black curls from Kauri's forehead. "Don't like that? He's not so good for you now, huh?"

Kauri shook his head, flinching from Owen's touch. At the same moment, he grabbed Jack's free hand again and squeezed.

I'm lying, you're not hurting me.

Owen looked up at Jack, with a wild, slightly mad grin on his face. "Look at that. He's a pretty crier, isn't he?"

Jack looked briefly at Kauri - how he had managed to make himself cry, he had no idea. He worried for a moment that it was something he’d done… but Kauri had grabbed his hand, and Jack hoped that was meant to reassure. So he looked at Owen and shrugged. “Dunno, buddy. I don’t like crying, I’m just doing my job,” he said, and then crooked his fingers to rub over Kauri’s prostate. He pushed a third in steadily.

"You don't?" Owen tilted his head, watching Kauri's hips jerk and the soft little moan he made, shaky and tear-filled, at the sudden burst of pleasure, melting apart feigned pain. "You should learn. I used to not, either, but he's so goddamn pretty crying. Most people aren't. He is." He petted at Kauri's hair tenderly, almost, except that his hands were shaking and his fingers caught in the tangles, jerking Kauri's head to the side.

"Oh, sorry, Kor-Bore," Owen whispered, with that hint of madness still in his eyes. "Don't get too distracted, huh?"

Kauri winced, but kept his grip tight on Jack's hand, sniffing. He knew he was believable - he'd lied to Owen before and he could do it again.

Jack bit his tongue to keep from talking, to keep from telling Owen how crazy he was, how bullshit this whole thing was. He focused on thrusting the three fingers in - all but slamming them in, really, so Kauri might have a better time faking his pain. He squeezed his other hand in Kauri’s. He focused on the here and now instead of the times they’d held hands in bed - the times Jack had fingered him open before while praising him, while Kauri rode his fingers with freedom and pleasure.

He pulled his fingers out, all at once, knowing he was going to lose his boner if he got distracted with Grant. He lined up to push in, staring down at Kauri… but he thought better of making the breach just yet. “May I, Mister Owen?” he said sweetly, a slight tilt of his head.

Owen's eyes were focused on Kauri's face, reading it, memorizing every detail, every tear track. He flicked them up to look at Jack, smirking, pleased. "Yeah, go for it." He tilted Kauri's chin back, until he had to arch his back a little, looking up at Owen almost upside-down. "He's got manners, Kor-Bore."

Kauri trembled, just a little, feeling a strange mix of needy and frightened, and it felt like training. Like a handler at each end, like it used to be. "J-Jack-"

"Ssssshhhhh," Owen said softly. "No one wants to hear you right now, Kauri."

Jack’s fake-sweet smile disappeared at that. He guided one of Kauri’s legs up toward his chest, settled his body low against Kauri, a hand between them to help guide himself in. Jack stared down at Kauri even though the other’s head was forced back, forced to look at Grant. He kissed at his neck, pressed his cheek to Kauri’s, out of view. ��I would wanna hear you. I’m sorry, babe.”

He pushed just the tip in and braced so he could thrust, murmuring, “Remember to scream when I push.”

Jack waited just a moment...and then he thrusted in to the hilt all at once.

Kauri's body was still working hard to continue what it was trained for, and he was relaxed enough that he had to make himself think about losing Jack again, about what it would feel like if Owen really hurt him, to get the right amount of tears.

He let out a whimper, not quite a scream, and pulled his hands up to push at Jack's chest like he would try to push him away.

"No, no," Owen said softly, almost lovingly, and pushed Kauri's hands away. Jack froze, shuddering as Owen spoke like the creep he was. "Let him hurt you. You like that so much, like it when it hurts, too."

For maybe the first time, it became visibly obvious that Owen was also very much enjoying this - but only after Kauri was in visible (if faked) pain.

Jack gave a couple deep thrusts into Kauri before he noticed just how much Grant was enjoying himself. Again, he froze, this time to raise his brows at the other man. “I do have a backdoor if you wanna get in on this.”

At first, Owen, only raised an eyebrow, looking patently disinterested.

“J-Jack, don’t-” Kauri whispered. The look on Owen’s face changed all at once, taking in the way Kauri was shaking his head, trying to get Jack to look back at him. “D-Don’t, don’t do that, don’t-” Owen yanked hard at his hair again, his words cutting off and turning into a soft little cry of pain.

Kauri felt so good with Jack inside of him, everyone always felt good in him, and he was working hard to pretend it hurt when it didn’t. But he didn’t have to pretend when Owen grabbed him like that.

“Shut the fuck up, Kauri.” Owen looked all kinds of interested, now that it was clear Kauri absolutely did not want that to happen. “I’ve always wanted to try that…” His head felt crystal-clear, the cocaine had blown away his uncertainties and left Owen boiled down to his core. He shifted around, hurriedly removing his own clothing, his eyes mostly on Kauri as he did so. On the way he looked fucking miserable, just like he should. “Are you ready? If you’re not, I’m going to fucking hurt you.”

He shuddered at the words and rolled his hips forward, hands coming to smooth over Kauri’s waist. Wouldn’t be the first, jerk, he thought. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

He rolled his hips back again, widened his legs and curved his spine. A clear, blue-tinted glass plug was between his cheeks. Jack figured he’d let Grant take it out.

He looked down at Kauri and smiled - a real smile - and mouthed it’s okay. Then he rolled his head back, too, looking at the other guy. “I’ve been waiting all night for a good fill.”

Owen laughed, a sound that was at once sort of an off-kilter chuckle and also half-crazed. He was probably a little too high for this, but why not - see what Kauri liked so damn much, although Owen Grant had paid a lot of money to make sure Kauri was trained to take, not give.

Which meant this was one thing Owen could have that Kauri hadn’t, and from his own fucking friend, no less.

“Jesus, you weren’t kidding. Well, probably bad for business if you don’t do the work ahead of time.” The statement was surprisingly without his usual parade of judgement for Jack’s work, and he moved with an expert, light touch as he worked to get the plug back out of Jack without causing him too much discomfort. It wasn’t that he cared - muscle memory just took over. It felt pretty good to Jack nonetheless. “Kauri has one like this.”

“I told him about that one already-”

“Kauri, if you don’t shut your fucking mouth, I will stuff it full with the shit I brought in that bag.”

Kauri winced, and he badly wanted to put his arms around Jack’s neck, but the chains that held their hands together wouldn’t allow it. All he could do was look into his face, now that Owen wasn’t jerking his head around, and hope. Jack looked down at him with a warm smile, rubbing his thumbs over Kauri’s skin.

Owen bit his lower lip in concentration, slicking himself up with the lube, and it took maybe a little more work than he thought it would to line himself up before he pushed himself in, groaning, his forehead against Jack’s back. “Jesus fuck.”

The entry was… not the clumsiest Jack had taken. His mouth fell open and eyes shut as Owen pushed in, and he moved his hands to brace on the bed, close to Kauri’s side since they were chained together. He exhaled softly and smiled at Kauri again. Hopefully he was saving the other boy some excess emotional pain.

Jack rolled his hips forward, into Kauri, partially off of Owen. Pleasure burned up his spine. He leaned down and gently kissed Kauri - quick and even a bit playful. This didn’t have to be a nightmare even if they were both forced into it.

“C’mon little guy,” he risked tossing over his shoulder with a smirk.

Owen didn’t dignify Jack with a response - other than to grab him by the neck and push him down, until his head was buried against Kauri’s shoulder, before thrusting deeply into him and picking up a savage rhythm that would push him hard into Kauri, too. Jack moaned wantonly against Kauri’s skin, trying to keep some kind of movement while Owen pounded into him.

When Jack’s head was pushed down, Kauri pressed a quick kiss to the side of his head, then caught Owen staring at him and closed his eyes, trying to avoid that expression, the tiny pupils and the jealous anger there. He couldn’t stop his own noises as Jack was moving - and moved - in and out of him. Noises that were half-feigned pain, and half honest pleasure. He was hard, where he and Jack were pressed together, and his hips kept moving, trying to chase the friction and find more pleasure.

Jack could have easily been content to lie there - did he really give a crap if Grant got off? Nah - but he moved as much as he could into Kauri, working with Owen’s rhythm. He rubbed his cheek against the other, pressed his lips against his neck.

Owen’s eyes had focused on Kauri’s face as he fucked Jack relentlessly, the cocaine giving him plenty of energy. It was exactly what he’d hoped Kauri would look like - terrified and sad and overwhelmed, because this was it, wasn’t it? He’d finally found him. And he’d fuck his stupid whore friend and then shove Jack out of a car somewhere and he’d take Kauri home.

And tie him to the bed so he never left again, just like Vince.

It took Owen a second to realize something wasn’t… working, as well as it should be. He was thrusting but the sensation was… less. He shifted around a little, closed his eyes and tried to really picture Kauri’s face, how he’d look right back where he belonged, but… nothing.

Owen groaned, as he realized he was going limp inside the whore. His face started to burn bright red in humiliation.

Okay, to be fair, people didn’t go limp in Jack very often. Usually the older guys took Viagra before they got out of the car - or Jack got in - and that pretty much took care of that. He could remember...years ago, working for Troy...some of the junkies lost hardons like that. Anyway, the point was, he didn’t recognize what was happening at first.

When he did, though.

Jack tried to muffle his laughter at first, quick little breaths through his nose against Kauri’s neck. Kauri jumped, a little, looking confused and blinking over at Jack and then up at Owen, trying to figure out what was wrong. Jack pushed himself up and looked back, trying to keep his expression neutral… with no luck.

“Man-” nope, he was laughing pretty loudly, now, shaking his head. “Oh man. You got any little blue pills, little guy? That’s gotta suck, hay- hah-” deeeep breath. “Hate-fucking but without a tool in your toolbox, huh? Want a blowie?”

“J-Jack, what’s-” Then Kauri seemed to understand, all at once, and he was torn between a surge of hysterical laughter in his own throat - Owen had spent so long hunting him down, and when he catches him, this happens - and sheer terror at what Owen would do.

Owen’s eyes narrowed to tiny slits in his face, and he jerked back all at once like Jack had burned him. “Isn’t it your fucking job to keep the customer going-... stop laughing, you stupid little shit!” He grabbed Jack to pull him away from Kauri, except he’d forgotten their wrists were restrained together and when he did that, he jerked Kauri up to nearly sitting, too. Then Owen groaned and shoved Jack back again. Jack fell onto Kauri’s chest, but pushed himself off pretty quick, careful to do his best not to hurt him.

“Nah, man. If you can’t stay hard in me, that’s your problem. Nothing I can do fixes...that. That’s on you,” Jack said, laughter trailing off by now. He withdrew from Kauri and stroked a hand up and down his side, slow and gentle, an absent reassurance. “That’s… sleep deprived, maybe not enough food, uh… drugs. That’s all you. You need blue pills. And I don’t have any, ‘cause I take care of m’self.”

Kauri let out a soft exhale, then couldn’t stop himself - he laughed, too, although not directly at Owen. “Jack, you ate ramen packets twice a day for a week once.”

“I sleep, though!” Jack said, pushing at him. “And I don’t do drugs. And I’m not old.”

“Shut up!” Owen half-shouted, interrupting them. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, but the moment was gone and he could damn well feel it. And in front of Kauri, no less, before he was going to take him home… “Just… shut up, both of you. Shut your fucking mouths.”

Owen swallowed, hard, his eyes moving rapidly back and forth, not entirely under his own control. Then he grabbed a key off the side table and undid the restraints holding Kauri and Jack together. “You.” He turned his eyes on Kauri, who cringed back and away from the expression. Owen snorted and grabbed him by the arm, shoving Jack to the side with no gentleness, slapping the manacle back on Kauri’s wrist and threading it through the headboard before he closed the other end around the other one. “You’ll stay right the fuck here.”

Then he turned his eyes on Jack.

“You… you’re going in the bathroom with me.”

“Sure, man. Whatever you say,” Jack nodded. He tried not to be obvious about watching where that key went. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “This way, yeah?”

Owen rolled his eyes, leaning over to grab Kauri by the hair and slam his head back, a violent thunk into the headboard, listening to his half-muffled groan - and watching him go a little limp - with a flare of satisfaction. Jack choked back a protest, grit his teeth, looked away.

Who was laughing now, huh? He did it one more time for good measure. This time, Kauri didn’t even make a sound

Then he dropped the key into the drawer of the side table next to the bed. His eyes danced around the room, lighting on everything but struggling to focus, until they landed on a pair of cuffs he'd brought. Clearly bondage cuffs and not exactly torture material, but whatever.

He picked those up and pointed at the bathroom, glaring at Jack. "In. Now."

Jack threw up his hands in a frustrated sort of gesture, or a whatever, and walked to the bathroom. As he stepped in, he placed himself near the side of the counter closest to the electrical outlet. Hairblower would be in the drawer there. Hairpins would be with them. He turned to face Owen. “I do switch, so I could give you a great prostate orgasm if that’s something you’re interested in. Satisfaction guarantee~ Mind if I piss first, though?”

"Shut up," Owen said, but it was half-hearted and clear he didn't actually expect Jack to obey. "Listen to me." He jerked Jack's hand close, buckling the cuff on quickly - he'd had so much practice with Kauri it was nearly second-nature, even now - and twisting the short chain around the leg of the bathroom vanity counter, then grabbed his other wrist. Once he was hooked up, he took a breath, closed his eyes, seemingly trying to calm down.

"Listen to me," he said again. Clearly unaware he'd already said it once.

"He loves me. And he'll remember that soon enough. If I have to knock all his fucking teeth out this time… no, Kauri." He shook his head like a dog shaking off water. "No, I can bash his fucking brains in until he remembers. I paid a lot of fucking money. What are you, a fucking whore for hire."

“... look, man, whoever you’re pining over - maybe you should take this up with Vince instead of Kauri, huh?” he said, remembering the name Owen had called Kauri earlier. “You can make a guy take you up the ass, but you can’t make him love you. Can’t make anybody love you - hell, I couldn’t make my own mom love me and she’s the person who’s supposed to, right? What luck are you gonna have with this poor kid? ‘S not love, ‘s trained responses.”

Owen stared at him, then barked out a strange, bitter laugh. "Well there you go, slut, we have something in common beyond fucking Kauri." He ruffled Jack's hair, but his aim wasn't quite right and his hand slapped down harder on his head than he really meant it to. Jack flinched back. "We both have goddamn mommy issues. No, no he loves me. I know he does, I know… he stays with you, right? What, he's an ass for you to fuck when you get off the, the clock or what the fuck ever, and he gets food and shit in return?"

“No. He’s a friend.”

Owen snorted. He was feeling jagged, embarrassed, and pissed. He wanted more coke but knew he shouldn't, not so soon.

"Box Boys don’t have fucking friends. I'll bet he still goddamn dreams about me. They do good fucking work at WRU. He doesn't remember shit now. Just me. Just a whole goddamn life built around me."

“Oh, sure. A whole life built around you that he spends all his time running from. Man, must feel good to have a guy in your life you scare so bad all he ever wants to do is run and never see you again. Must feel mighty big, huh?”

Owen's eyes narrowed and he discovered, somewhat to his surprise, that his hands were around Jack's throat.

He stopped himself from squeezing the air out of him - a dead hooker in a hotel room was not the Where Are They Now? Owen wanted to be a part of - and forced his fingers to slowly uncurl until he let go.

"I didn't scare him," Owen said, his voice low, "Until he fucked up."

Jack gasped for breath. He always figured he’d die in a situation kinda like this, but man. He’d hoped. And here he was, breathing again! “... fuck,” he said on an exhale, chest still heaving. “You fucking scared him. You put a shock thing on his collarbone after you promised him you wouldn’t. That’s fuckin’ scary. That’s scary to me, and I’m not the one who has to walk around with his goddamn bones aching. Well… one bone, sometimes, but-”

He shook his head at himself with a laugh. “Anyway, you’re scaring the shit outta him now, too. Who gets fucking high to have sex? Wouldn’t be surprised if you tossed him off the roof tellin’ him to love you.”

"You don't know shit about that. All you fucking know is what he tells you. I wouldn't have had to if he hadn't been sending secret goddamn messages-... Jesus Christ, I'm arguing with a fucking prostitute."

Owen tried to make himself take a deep breath, calm down the fury that threatened to carry all his sanity away with it. He turned to stare back at Jack, grabbing him by the chin, narrowing his eyes to stare into him.

"What do you fucking do that I don't?"

Jack hesitated for a moment, eyes going hopeless and empty. And then the answer came.

“I care about him and what I can give him. Not what me and what I can take from him,” he stated calmly, staring up into Grant’s eyes. Then he smirked. “And I can make him come thinking of me while I’m fucking him, ‘cause I don’t beat his heart to shit.”

Owen gave him a stare that said he would very much like to choke Jack again, but this time all he did was shake him by the chin and then let go, dropping his hand.

"Wait right here for me," He said, deadly soft. "I'm going to get some ice, and when I get back, you are going to watch." He took Jack's wrist to rattle the cuffs, emphasizing the predicament he was in, then turned and walked out, leaving him there.

Kauri's eyes were on him the second he came out, and a headache was starting to drift in around the edges of Owen's awareness. "Mr. Owen, j-just, just let Jack go, he didn't do anything wrong-"

"No, he didn't, but you did." Owen closed his eyes, briefly, against the way the world seemed jagged and painful. Couldn't be a comedown already, could it?

"I, I know, I'm s-sorry I left, just let him go and you can, can make me as sorry as you want," Kauri tried. Owen shot him a glare and Kauri flinched back against the headboard.

"Fuck off. I'm getting ice. When I get back, I'm going to make him sorry he ever fucking met you. Just like everyone else should be, you piece of shit." He headed for the door, sweeping up the keycard for the hotel room on the way. "This is your fault, Kauri. Everything I’m going to do to him, that he gets hurt at all, it’s all your fucking fault, you piece of shit slut. This is what knowing shitty people like you and fucking Vince does to people - it turns us fucking crazy and gets us fucking hurt. Don’t you fucking forget it.”

"I… I won't," Kauri said softly, sincerely, and watched Owen leave. He waited until the door clicked shut and he heard the faintest beep from the private elevator before he yelled, "Jack, are you okay? Did he hurt you?!"

Jack definitely heard them talking, but didn’t really pay attention to what they were saying - bit too quiet for that. He was already fishing hairpins out of the drawer.

“Yeah, I’m fine! Moron cuffed me like I can’t pick a fuckin’ simple dipshit lock like this-” snap, and he was out of one cuff. Jack fiddled with the other as he walked out of the bathroom. “That was the most annoying and unsatisfying top I’ve had in years. And I’m a hooker.”

He had the cuffs off by the time he reached the bedside table. He slid the drawer open and took out the key, leaned over Kauri as he unlocked the other’s cuffs. “Bet he’s going to get a little blue pill instead of ice,” he smirked. And then softened. “How’re you doin’?”

Kauri threw his arms around Jack's neck, holding onto him for dear life. "I'm sorry," He whispered, shoulders shaking. "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…"

Jack froze, not at all used to this response. He and Rory had come to a point eventually where they watched each others’ backs and puffed up to be brave for each other. Jack wasn’t used to the normal emotional responses anymore.

“Hey,” he said softly, hands coming up to pat and smooth over Kauri’s back. “Hey, you’re okay. I know what I’m doing, here. This doesn’t hurt me like it hurts you. ‘S not your fault, Birdie, an’ I’m not hurtin’ at all. Okay?”

“I, I don’t, I didn’t m-mean to get you hurt, I didn’t…” Kauri sniffed, burying his head briefly in the side of Jack’s neck and taking in his smell - still the same, not the way Owen smelled at all. The hand over his back felt good, and comforting, and like it could wipe away a little of the look on Owen’s face. “I’m sorry, I, I should’ve lied and said I didn’t know who you were but he-... when he touches me I just freeze up, I-... I’m trained not to lie to him and I can, and I do, but he just, I just was, was surprised, I didn’t know…”

“That’s okay, Birdie. I’d rather be here getting hurt tryin’a take care of you than turn around and see you gone. Okay?”

Kauri pulled back, looking miserable and pale as he started to scramble around to try and find Jack’s clothing and toss it to him. Owen had tightened the cuffs around his hands too tightly, and there were red marks on his wrists from when they’d been cuffed together. Jack pulled on his pants and made his way over to his boots.

“We, I gotta get you out of here, J-Jack, I’m s-s-sorry, I’m just-... I’m sorry…”

“Kauri, will you fucking listen for a sec?” Jack looked up from tying up his boots. “It’s not your fault. I care enough about you. I'm focused on taking care of you, jus’ like you’re trying to take care of me, okay? Cool it and get your own clothes on. I’ve got me, and we’re both getting outta here before he comes back.”

Kauri stared at him, wild-eyed, before he slowly nodded and slipped back into the clothing he’d been wearing, the cropped shirt and black jeans and checkered shoes. He told himself he was following orders, and that calmed some of the panic which currently threatened to completely derail him. The panic and guilt, slowly eating him alive.

“Are-... are you sure? I can, can stay, so he won’t look for you if I’m here.” Kauri stopped by the side table, looking down at where Owen had left his wallet - taken his credit card on the way out, but left the wallet itself. He reached in and grabbed all the cash in there, turning to shove it into Jack’s hands.

“Jesus Christ, Kauri-” Jack said, but he still took the cash and shoved it into his pocket. “No. You’re gonna come with me, Birdie.”

“I can stay,” Kauri whispered, eyes wide and terrified. “If I’m here he won’t look for you, I can stay.”

“You can, but you’re not gonna.” Jack grabbed his hand and started pulling him along, into the elevator and down to the first floor. What better way to exit than the front doors? “Keep your head down, buddy.”

Kauri nodded, rapidly, pressing himself against Jack. He was shivering all over, shaking like the last leaf on a tree in winter, and his fingers would be freezing cold to the touch from fear. He could feel his heart pounding all over again, just like when Owen choked him and then waited for him to wake up and then choked him and then-

He caught a sob before it made it all the way out, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to breathe as the elevator moved down. “Jack, he’s gonna kill me,” He whispered. “He’s, he’s gonna kill me.”

“You’ll be okay, Birdie,” Jack said, putting his arm around Kauri’s shoulders and pulling him in. “We’re gonna get out, and he’s gonna find out you’re not there and he’s gonna be pissed, but he’s not gonna kill you. Not if I can help it.”

Kauri’s hand came up and started to rub at the scar over his collarbone, pushing back a phantom fire that raced through his nerves, pressing hard against the spot where the thin, metal plate was still bolted into him, the part they couldn’t get out on their own.

He nodded, slowly, shifting back and forth on his feet, nervously fidgeting. The affection was good, though, and he leaned into it, taking a deep breath. Jack still smelled like himself, like the cologne he put on for nights he went out and wasn’t actually working.

“He’s, he’s so angry and he’s not-... he doesn’t… he’s, um.” Kauri swallowed, hard, against a latent sense of disloyalty and why did his mind still want him to be loyal to someone who was trying to kill him? “He’s… crazy, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, man. He’s really fucked in the head. He’s obsessing, like the batshit guy I was bought for. Totally out of it. And he’s on drugs. People don’t stay sane on drugs.”

The elevator dinged at the bottom floor, and Jack guided Kauri quickly out of it and through the halls, away from anybody wearing a hotel uniform.

“He n-never, he never did drugs…” Kauri’s voice was small. “He used to do, um, drugs before me. He told me he went to rehab. He’s never… done drugs around me…”

As they moved through the hallway, there were a few other people up and about, this late at night. Kauri felt their eyes on him and hunched over a little more, his face burning bright red, expecting to be stopped at any second or to hear Owen’s voice yelling for him.

They all looked at him with this angry judgement, looked down their noses. Kauri wasn’t thinking about how he looked - with his mussed-up hair, scruffy shoes, and outfit that flashed a hint of the pale skin at his stomach - or how Jack looked.

“Did me leaving make… make him do drugs again? Did I make him do that?”

“Nah. Junkies take any excuse they can to get back on their poison,” Jack said quietly, shaking his head. He walked Kauri right out of the hotel, and immediately took the shortest way he could find out of the parking lot, too.

Kauri nodded, keeping himself hunched over, trying to look like anyone other than who he was until they were all the way back into the streets. It had to be the middle of the night, and Kauri had no idea where they were and no way to read any signs. He just clung to Jack and let him do the work, to figure it out.

“Jack, um… why did he… why’d he wait til I was out? Why not just come get us at your place?”

“Dunno. I’d say maybe he doesn’t know about my place, but he said he was talking with Renford. Renford knows,” he shrugged. “Maybe it was easier to snatch in public than break into the building.”

Jack looked at the streetsigns at an intersection, slowly read each one. Yeah, he knew this area. He led Kauri across the street and started walking back home. “Don’t have anywhere safer to go, not unless we rent a different hotel with his money. Think we should do that?”

He thought, for a second, that maybe they should go to one of the pet shelters. Kauri belonged in those… but… Jack didn’t. And Renford was watching Jack. If a shelter took them and somehow managed to help, chances were that Jack would drag them under.

“No, but… but it would have been easier for him, for what he wanted to do. If he went to your…” Kauri shuddered at the mention of the Director’s name, shrinking into himself with a bone-deep fear he could never shake. He’d only been directly disciplined by the Director twice - he didn’t clearly remember either time, beyond knowing he never, ever wanted it to happen again.

“What if-... she, um. Mr., um, Mr. Owen said he wasn’t allowed to kill you… what if… she didn’t tell him where you live?”

Jack stopped a moment, staring at Kauri. “Sonofabitch. You think?” He thought, and the more he thought, the more it made sense.

“...she must either really like me or really hate me. I spat on her shoes once, y’know-” he had probably mentioned that before, but he was pretty proud of himself for it. “Kay, well. Better not look a gift horse in the mouth. Let’s go home.”

Kauri nodded and slid his arms around Jack’s waist briefly, squeezing him as hard as he could and burying his head against Jack’s neck. He took a deep breath and then pulled back again and straightened his spine, trying to look stronger than he felt.

“Can… can I sleep in your bed, um, tonight?”

He slept in Jack’s bed whenever he stayed over, but Kauri wanted to ask, this time. Needed the reassurance, needed Jack to understand that what he was really asking was, can I hold onto you until I fall asleep?

“Yeah. You can sleep in my bed anytime, Birdie. You can even kick me onto the couch so you can sleep on my bed,” Jack grinned, leaning down to kiss Kauri’s head. He understood, though. “Or I can stick around and keep you cozy.”

“Stick around,” Kauri said softly. “And you can use that money you stole-”

“That I stole? You took it out of his wallet!”

Kauri’s smile was shaky, but real. “... fine, the money we stole to take a few days off. I, I just…” He stopped, and kissed Jack’s cheek. “I’m glad you’re my best friend. Come on, I know the bus driver who runs the route this late, she’ll let me bring you on without having to pay extra.”

He grabbed Jack’s hand and pulled him towards the bus stop, Owen’s words still echoing inside his head.

None of this would have happened if you hadn’t run away from me.

#whump #emotional abuse #recaptured #captivity #restrained #violent whumper #intimate whumper #creepy whumper #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #tw: mutual dubcon #blood #degrading language #abuse #tw: domestic abuse #erase to control

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ashintheairlikesnow · 5 years

Text

Vince and the Phone

A phone call between Vincent Shield and his girlfriend, Tara. Tara belongs to @fairybean101 and is used with permission! Thanks for letting me use your girl to talk some sense into my poor movie star.

This post references Who’s the Better Box Boy by @shameless-whumper heavily, so please read that if you haven’t yet to understand Vince’s reactions

CW: Referenced past violent assault, and referenced psat and current noncon

Tagging: @maybeawhumpblog, @pepperonyscience, @haro-whumps, @18-toe-beans, @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @giggly-evil-puppy, @lump-of-whump, @whimpers-and-whumpers

He can’t stop fucking watching it.

Vince finally gives up and calls her - one benefit of their relationship for him has been Tara’s simple willingness to pick up the phone so he can ask her to yell at him any time, day or night. Tara never seems to sleep, she’s burning herself out rescuing all those poor Box Boys and Babes, and so she’s never more than a few moments of ringing away.

And she always picks up when Vince calls.

When Eli had initially asked him to consider acting as some kind of go-between for the pet lib people - he’d known Eli for a while, they ran in some of the same circles sometimes - he’d nearly said no.

But he wanted to help; even then, he’d understood something was really, really wrong with the whole human pet system. He hadn’t been able to put his finger on it, then, because why not let people sign their lives away? Vince did that every time he signed a contract for a new film and had to stop doing anything but working out and eating stupid plain chicken for months.

But Eli had known more than he let on, at first, and a couple of years later Vince was sitting up in the middle of the night, half-plastered, replaying a video of some poor son of a bitch with Vince’s face laying on his back, ankles flush to thighs, legs spread.

The red in the poor thing’s face, embarrassed and ashamed of something that, according to Tara, he couldn’t have refused to do even if he’d wanted to.

And to Vince, it looked like he wanted to refuse.

He caught the look the other one - the one that the Host kept - gave, presumably, Owen behind the camera. Flat and controlled, an attempt to stay expressionless, but Vince could read the helpless fury there.

“Yeah, you and me both, buddy,” Vince muttered, raking a hand back through his hair as he pulled up Tara’s number. “Both of us get pissed as hell and both of us do fucking nothing about it. At least you have an excuse, I guess. I’m just a goddamn coward.”

Tara’s number was next to an icon of her face, a serious scowl with her red hair a halo around her head. She hadn’t wanted Vince to take the photo, but she’d been the one to choose which of the seven he took got set as her icon on his phone.

It took four rings for Tara to pick up.

“What dumbass thing are you doing now?” Her voice is sharp as ever, but laced, he likes to think, with friendly affection. “It’s two in the morning, Vince.”

“Don’t yell at me for being up, I’m between projects and I always get all weird with my sleep schedule when I’m not working. What are you doing up?”

“Handling some new reports from another group,” Tara replies, and Vince can hear her shuffling papers in the background. “They got word on an upcoming raid, managed to split up their documents and records before the cops found them. We took in a few of their rescues, a couple of other groups took some. All the rescues are taken care of, which is what matters, but shit.”

“Shit…?”

“They’re hitting too many groups. I think someone is talking. But you don’t want to hear about my shit tonight… what’s up, Vince?” There’s a pause and before he can answer, Tara asks softly, “You’re still thinking about it, aren’t you?”

Vince glances down at his laptop, where the video is currently paused, right on the shot of the look of pure unadulterated trying-to-hide-it murder Colton - who is apparently Dustin Anderson, pet liberation activist, and oh shit what a fucking ominous soundtrack that knowledge starts up inside his head - is giving Owen Grant. He moves the timer back and sets it up to replay the look on the Kauri kid’s face the second he heard the Host say Position 34.

The red flush, humiliated and nervous, the subtle sidelong glance to the other pet only to see the confusion on his face and realize oh shit, I’m the only one of us who knows this.

Did pets judge each other? Did Kauri leave and the other one, the Dustin one, think oh, that one’s a whore when they left?

Probably not.

No, the reaction shots gave too much away for Vince to even think unkind bullshit like that. No, the pets clearly cared, at least a little. The rescues they brought in mostly avoided each other at first, while all the conditioning was in place, but these two look like maybe they wouldn’t. Or at least not as much.

He rewinds again right to the start, watching for the moment Owen Grant looks up, surprised, those green eyes on the camera so soft and friendly.

“He’s such a fucking liar, Tara,” Vince says, and his voice shakes.

“Yeah, okay, so you’re watching it.” Tara sighs, and he can picture it - rubbing the spot between her eyebrows with her index finger and thumb, taking a deep breath. “Vince, you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t punish yourself this way.”

“He’s a liar. He goes on camera - what fucking right does he have to do that, by the way - and he stands right fucking there and lies about what happened between us, lies about what I, what I did with him-”

“No.” Tara’s voice is sharp, and it cuts through Vince immediately. His mouth snaps shut. “What he did to you, Vince. We’ve talked about this. You didn’t do anything but go to see your friend one night when he seemed down. Everything after he put the drink in your hand is what he did to you.”

There’s a silence and Vince tries to tell himself she’s right. She’s always right.

Eventually, he gives up to the pull of just letting Tara run the show and smiles, wondering if she’ll hear the expression in his voice. “Yeah, okay. But still… you know he didn’t get someone like that Box Boy by accident. You know he lied about that, too.”

“Yeah, I know.” Tara’s voice is clipped, and goes slightly quieter. “We got a potential informant in the company, and I’ve just seen Grant’s custom order form.”

“What?” Vince’s feet thump to the ground and he sits up. Around him his home is perfectly silent, pure white, and kind of cold. He likes it better when Tara has to stay over, pretend she’s sleeping with him that night. Then this place feels like it has life in it.

Mostly, even when he’s home, it just feels... empty.

“Yeah. We had someone come through and offer to get us some info, and Owen Grant’s order form was in the documents he gave us to show he was good for it. This is… this is the most detailed custom order form I’ve ever seen, Vince.”

“Did he-...” Vince tries to swallow back the question, but it tumbles out anyway. “Did he really just want him for-”

“No, it’s more fucked than that.” Tara’s quiet - Vince can hear his own blood, his heartbeat, his breathing. “Are you sure you want me to tell you?”

“Yes. No. I don’t, I don’t know… will it make me feel better or worse to hear it?”

On screen, Kauri is shocked and Vince watches his flinch, the tears standing in his eyes, still pleading and wide in some hope that Owen will rescue him. Vince grinds his teeth in anger at the way it looks to see his own face, so perfectly broken and needy, looking always to Owen to be saved.

Exactly how Owen had always wanted to see him.

“Probably worse,” Tara answers, and there’s a hint of gentleness there. Tara isn’t gentle with very many people - with him, with Eli, maybe a few others. Always with the rescues, the broken men and women hiding from the system under fake names and with forged documentation, pulled from homes and those two-bit emporiums selling bullshit knock-off Box Boys and Babes. She doesn’t have a lot of gentle left in her, after her own ordeal - but she always finds a little for Vince.

And he doesn’t even try to be ashamed of himself for needing it.

“Tell me anyway. That poor kid probably feels enough like shit, I might as well join him. I’m the only reason he’s even in this mess.”

“Well, okay, it might make you feel better to know he was already in the system. They called him 645898,” Tara reads the number out loud with real hatred edging her voice. “He was already in training before Grant put in his order, but I have a hunch they new Grant had been sniffing around the site and picked him up to have him ready for the order. And fuck, what an order. I don’t know what we’d even do with a rescue like this one, Vince.”

“What? Why? We’ve rescued others that are, that were, that… um…”

“Got their brains fucked out of them?” Tara asks with bitter near-humor.

“Yeah. That.”

“Yeah, he’s definitely seeing his share of that-” Vince winces, closing his eyes, trying not to remember Own’s hand pressed over his mouth, the look in his eyes as he’d whispered I’m so fucking tired of hearing you say no all the time, Vince, the way the ropes had dug into his wrists until they were rubbed raw and bloody. “-but it’s worse than that. He wouldn’t even go with us if we showed up at Grant’s front door.”

“Let me guess,” Vince says heavily. “He wanted the pet to love him.”

I just want you to fucking love me, you piece of shit! Is that so much to ask, Vince? Huh?! Is that so much to fucking ask?!

“Yep.” Tara doesn’t try to soothe him, to paper over old wounds with pretty words. That’s what he loves about her - Vince’s world is one of fake comfort and false friends, and Tara never gives comfort she doesn’t drag out of herself with real sincerity and she’s the truest friend he’s ever had. “If we tried to take him, he... he wouldn’t go. And that’s just the fucking tip of the fucking iceberg, too.”

“Perfect.” Vince sighs. “This kid had no idea what he was signing up for, huh?”

“Vince. You and I both know hardly any of them actually sign up for anything. You and I both know how they get the pets to sign our contracts.”

Vince licks his lips, hesitating, his blood running a little cold at the thought. “Yeah. Yeah, I know, I know how they do it. I know it.”

“Close your laptop, Vince. Go to sleep. This kid won’t be any less or more fucked over if you do. We’ll work on his case, I promise, he’s just… he’s going to be tough. He’s not in a house where we can walk up, he never leaves so we can’t catch him in a vulnerable, open place. And if we did… he wouldn’t go. The conditioning is thorough, Vince, and I’ve no doubt he loves Grant and is terrified of the idea of being taken away from him.” Tara sighs, again. She has a whole library of sighs, and Vince loves her for each and every one of them. “I have to talk to Eli about it, we need a better plan for dealing with this one, but trust me - I’m going to figure this shit out. Your clone and Dustin, we’re going to figure it out.”

“If you don’t, Tara? What if you can’t figure it out, for either of them?”

“Then…” Tara trails off. “Then it’s like I said. They’re no more or less fucked over than they were before I knew about them.”

It’s Vince’s turn to snort. “Tara. We both know that’s not how you operate. You never stop thinking about any of the ones you couldn’t rescue.”

“Hm. Maybe I’ll make it work this time if I try hard enough. Go to sleep, Vince. Eli’s on my other line. He took in a rescue and he’s been calling me for advice about her.”

“That’s funny. Me calling to ask you about this Kauri kid, and Eli’s right in his house, at the exact same moment, calling you for advice about, uh, whatever her name is.”

“Keira. She asked him to call her Keira.” Tara is quiet. “Kauri and Keira. Funny, the two names together like that. Eli even says her hair is dark and curly... Anyway, you need sleep and I need to keep moving.”

“Right, because you’re a sleep shark, if you sleep you’ll die,” Vince teases her. She laughs on the other line, and he relaxes all at once.

Did the people who kept Tara, in the shadowy past she only rarely opened up about, ever make her laugh? Did they have any idea how wonderful it was to hear the sound? Did they know her laugh was nearly as gorgeous as the red of her hair? If Vince had ever been remotely into women, someone like Tara might have been just his type.

As it was, his fake girlfriend was probably his best friend. And the only person on Earth who knew what Owen Grant had done to him, when he was 20 years old and looked exactly like the Kauri kid that Vince was watching, once again, lay on his back on the screen.

Ankles against his thighs, legs spread apart, the flush of shame in his eyes and his skin and in the way he moved when Owen yanked him back to his feet moments later.

“You have meetings tomorrow,” Tara says, softly.

“So do you,” He counters. He scrolls down to look over the comments, staring at the array of usernames and inane babble. Mostly just people praising the Host’s cleverness, how funny they are, what a great idea to have two Box Boys face off like that.

Then one catches his eye.

@finder-of-rings: Kauri seems really sweet. God I hope owen isn’t hurting him. It’d be so, so easy to do just anything he wanted to him! They’re all alone and he can’t say no to anything, right??? God, that’s so scary… imagine being all alone with someone like Owen Grant and he can do literally anything to you and no one will stop him and no one will help you! Someone should do something!

There’s a slew of replies telling the commenter they’re making a mountain out of a molehill, that the Box Boys signed up for this, it’s all part of the system, whatever.

Vincent just stares at the words as they go in and out of focus.

“Vince?” Tara’s voice seems a little fainter. “You listening?”

Imagine being all alone with someone like Owen Grant and he can do anything to you - and no one will stop him - and no one will help you.

“I don’t have to imagine it,” Vince whispers. “I’ve been there, Finder of Rings. I’ve fucking been there.”

“Hey, no, are you reading the comments, Vince?” Tara’s voice is sharp again, cuts through the fog and the way his throat has gone tight, his heart beating fast, a dizzy fear pounding in his mind all the way down to wrists that still remember how it felt to be tied down.

A throbbing pulse of phantom pain in the rib Owen had broken, in the eye he’d punched. Some of Vince’s teeth are fake because of Owen Grant.

“Never, ever read the comments, Vince. Never. That’s… we have people who read the comments just to troll for info and even some of them get freaked out. Don’t do it. Or…” The softness is back in her voice, again. “At least let me be there with you when you do.”

“Yeah… yeah, no, you’re right.” Vince’s voice is shaking as he closes his laptop screen, shutting away the vision of Kauri and the Host’s boy carefully not looking at each other as the episode ended. I hope the other pets don’t judge the ones like you, little clone, he thinks. I hope, I hope, I hope.

“I’m going to bed, Tara. You’re right and I should take your advice and just… just fucking shut off for a while. Are you going to take my advice and do the same?”

“Fuck no. I’m calling Eli to see what help he needs with his rescue. She’s a sweetheart, she’s been really put through the worst the system does to people. I’ll sleep when I’m dead, Vince.”

“And you’ll die if you sleep,” Vince says, and both of them laugh this time.

She hangs up and Vince sits in his quiet, empty house, thinking of the comment he’d read.

Someone should do something.

He thinks of Owen screaming in his face, holding him by the chin, the way he’d choked on his own blood and the tooth down his throat as he cried and begged Owen not to kill him. Thought of what it had been like when Owen’s mom had found out and Vincent had stumbled out of the old apartment where Owen used to live, beaten half to death and unable to tell a single living soul what really happened.

It’d hurt his career, if he did. He was just getting real acting jobs meant for adults, then - he’d signed Carlotta Grant’s legal shit and taken a year to recover and then come back and become a fucking superstar. It had felt like enough for a while.

He couldn’t have risked his career, then, when it was only getting started. And now...

It’d murder his career to step one foot out of line, now - and put the pet lib people he worked with at risk, if he publicly said a fucking thing about Owen Grant keeping what amounted to a blow up doll with a pulse that looked just like him.

He had to trust Tara, and the people like Tara - the people braver than him.

“Someone should save that poor kid,” Vince mutters, alone in the dark. “Someone should do something. But it’s not going to be me.”

#whump #erase to control #vincent shield is not a hero #fairybean101 #box boy #box boy multiverse #box boy universe #shameless-whumper #colton #kauri #tw: referenced past assault #tw: referenced violent noncon #tw: referenced noncon #youtuber whump #youtube whump #pet liberation movement

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ashintheairlikesnow · 5 years

Text

Exactly What You Need: Owen

To the Anon who won the “guess the post-apocalyptic New Zealand kids’ show Owen Grant had a guest star role on”: Here is your requested drabble! Owen Grant, the night he ordered Kauri.

CW: Owen is a fucking creep. Implied/referenced assault/abuse with younger!Vincent Shield, manipulate/abusive thoughts, dehumanization. Owen Grant is a dark man and people triggered by abuser thoughts regarding rape/assault should please heed that and stay safe

Tagging: @maybeawhumpblog, @pepperonyscience, @haro-whumps, @18-toe-beans, @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings,

It started with the hair, and the eyes.

Originally, he hadn’t really thought about Vince, exactly - he was just… he was just kind of lonely, and he’d been scrolling the Whumpees-R-Us site, thinking about how it seemed like basically everyone with a name worth knowing and a good stock portfolio had one of the Box Boys or Box Babes now.

And it might be nice to have someone around here to talk to. It’s not like he could talk to the fucking Roomba.

The condo was gorgeous, and he went out to lunch a few times a week with Nicole and some of the former costars and everything that he’d kept in touch with, went to conventions, even wrote an introduction for a book on the dark side of child acting that was pretty well received. He went to the gym three days a week, he watched a bunch of Youtubers that updated pretty regularly. Owen kept himself busy, basically, and none of it stopped him from being really. fucking. lonely.

His mother had called one night after he’d been drinking for two or three hours straight, slowly killing a bottle of gin and a bag of limes while sending increasingly drunken text messages to no one in particular.

He and his mother still talked two or three nights a week. He was probably the only former child actor he knew who still had a really close relationship with his mom… or at least as close as your relationship can be when you’re lying to her about fucking everything about yourself.

She knew anyway. She’d been the one to help him cover it all up with Vince, what happened, why they never spoke again. She knew - but her constituents were bigoted assholes and in the part of the country Carlotta Grant set her sights on, you have to play to the bigoted asshole or you don’t get elected.

His mom was the biggest bitch he knew, but she wasn’t a bigot, exactly. Just happy to roll over for them for the sake of her Senate career. It would kill her ambitions if too much about Former Child Star Owen Grant got into the news, so Owen lied to everybody and everybody pretended to believe him. He’d been lying about it since he was still acting, it’s not like it was that hard to just… keep lying, right?

Even if he’d sort of hoped quitting acting - getting away from Vince and what happened - making his own life out here away from everyone… he’d sort of hoped he could stop lying, then. But nope. Mom got all political and Owen kept on lying.

He’d fucking hate her for it, if he didn’t love her so much.

In any case, she’d called and Owen had been trashed and it… well. The whole time he’d had the Whumpees-R-Us site up, looking through options, scrolling past faces that weren’t right. Or they almost were. But they weren’t the one he wanted.

“Mom, I just want someone here who cares about me,” Owen had said, heavily, into the phone. He knew his words had gone slightly slurred, and he waited for her derision - his mother was the queen of it, after all, of cutting you apart with words alone. “Listen to this - a Whumpees-R-Us nonproductive pet can arrive with any skillset you require or phys, physical combination of- shit, sorry, Mom, I’m drunk-”

“Yes. I can quite tell you are. Don’t be ridiculous, Owen, you’re not getting one.”

“I’m a grown-ass man, Mom, and I say I am.”

“Would you at least order a girl?”

There it is, Owen thought. Carlotta Grant didn’t care if her only child bought a living human person, just if it fit the version her constituents wanted to see.

He took incredible pleasure is pausing long enough to take another long sip of lime and gin before he answered, “Oh, it’ll definitely be a boy.”

“Owen…” Carlotta sighed, heavily. “Darling. We talked about this.”

“No, you talked about it. At great length, no matter how often I asked you to stop. I want a boy and I’ll have one. Here’s a compromise, Mom - what if I don’t let it leave? I’ll keep it in here with me, they can train it to not be able to even walk out the door without me.”

“Owen…”

“Take it or leave it, Mom.”

Carlotta went quiet again, for much longer this time. Then she finally said, “Fine. Owen… I know that my decision was difficult for you-”

“All of your decisions are difficult for me, Mom.”

“Your decisions haven’t exactly been easy for me, either. Vincent Shield could still cause trouble for me, if he ever chooses to air what you did to him publicly.”

“He won’t. We told him I’d stay away from him if he kept it hush-hush, and he did. He won’t say anything to anyone, Mom. You can trust him. I couldn’t, but you can. It doesn’t help his career either, you know, if they find out about him.” Owen felt his throat catch, had to swallow hard against the tears.

“Right. We don’t need them find out about your latent sadism, either, but I suppose I must put my trust in the career aspirations of Vincent Shield. Get whatever you want, Owen, but I had better not see it step one foot outside of that condominium if it makes it into the news.”

They spoke for a while longer, about nothing and relatives and people who had recently died or pissed his mother off, senate bills she was worried about and Owen’s latest project bankrolling a documentary exposing a monopolizing pharmaceutical giant, and the whole time Owen’s mind wasn’t on the conversation at all, but on Vincent fucking Shield.

They’d been inseparable. They’d made promises to each other. Then Owen had fucked one tiny little thing up - just the one thing, and it hadn’t even been that bad, what he’d done, and Vincent had probably liked it anyway - and Vincent had left and never came back.

He glanced down at his empty glass with a bit of ice that still clinked, and then up at the Whumpees-R-Us website. Create a completely customized option for minimal surcharges and receive the perfect pet of your dreams.

He poured more gin, added another twist of lime. “You know what my perfect fucking pet is?” He asked no one in particular. The Roomba beeped softly under the couch in its docking station. “Vincent Shield’s my perfect fucking pet. Make him feel pretty fucking sorry for what he did. They don’t have anyone on here who even looks like him…”

Then his blurry, bleary eyes caught a line at the bottom of the pictured Box Boy options. This does not represent the totality of what Whumpees-R-Us can provide. Send us your requirements and we will dedicate ourselves to fulfilling your every need, with an added surcharge.

So he clicked on the custom order form for Box Boys, watching it load, blinking at how fucking huge the page was. And it started with a simple box that asked what kind of pet you were searching for.

Owen very nearly wrote I’m so fucking lonely.

Instead, he settled for Companion.

The screen blinked and new options appeared. Platonic, Romantic, Domestic, or Combination?

Owen snorted. Platonic. He wasn’t some fucking sicko, he was just looking for someone to bring some life into this place. But… maybe it was just that he was drunk, or maybe it went deeper than that. In any case, a thought came to mind. He pictured wide blue eyes in a face that used to be pale, now tanned on all the movie posters. Thought of those eyes full of tears, for him. Then… then he thought of what it might be like if those eyes weren’t full of tears, but something else.

The thing Vincent had owed him, and had never been able - or willing - to give.

Then he unclicked his previous decision, and chose Combination.

We will return to detailed specifics of your [Combination] requirements in a later section. For now, please list physical requirements for your Box Boy.

Owen swallowed, looked up the photo of the movie poster for Dimmer Switch, with 20-year-old Vincent Shield and 17-year-old Owen Grant in action poses against a dark background and a glowing light. Vincent’s face was clearly visible - soft and slightly sweet-looking, wide blue eyes, curly black hair. Long limbs and kind of a slim body type, not as muscled-up as he was now.

Not that Owen kept up with his career or what he looked like now, or anything.

He started with the hair, and the eyes. At first it felt wrong, like he was trying to build a Frankenstein’s monster for himself, but it was all perfectly legal and if it was really wrong, why were so many people buying them now?

No, this was fine.

Owen was fine.

He was going to bring Vincent Shield home, and once Vince came back here, he was never, ever going to be able to leave.

He checked every box, wrote down details. At the bottom of the physical requirements section there was a spot to upload photo references, and he added the movie poster, some other pictures from magazine interviews from back then, he and Vince together in a few of them. Shots of Vince with the mop of curly hair and a bright wide smile, flashing whitened teeth. Shots of Vince with his arm around Owen, the both of them grinning for the photographer.

It took nearly two hours to finish, and by the end of it he’d stopped being drunk or maybe he was drunker than ever, but he’d entered a place of perfect clarity about his decision. He was about to spend a lot of money on this boy.

It was going to be perfect.

In the final box for any added comments not covered by the questionnaire, Owen Grant typed, Make it so he can never, ever leave me without fear. Make it so he wants my touch more than anything else in the world. Make it so he would lose his mind before he’d lose me. I want him to be sweet, and kind of a soft person. I want him to put up with anything I do to him.

He paused, considering, and then added one more thing.

I want him to love me.

Then he pressed SUBMIT, made himself drink a glass of water, and passed out in his bed.

When he woke up the next morning, the Roomba was in the middle of a cleaning routine and his phone was ringing. He squinted at a number he didn’t know, but decided to answer it on kind of a whim. His number was private and only a few people had it - if someone was calling he didn’t know, it was probably one of his mom’s staff members. “Hello?”

“May I speak with Mr. Owen Grant?” A warm, melodic voice spoke on the other end of the line.

“Ah, this is Owen Grant.”

“This is Karen Renford, Client Satisfaction Director at Whumpees-R-Us. We received your request for a custom order last night and I’ve just had time to review it. There is… an exceptional amount of specialization in this order form, Mr. Grant.”

“I… I know. Shit. Oh, sorry.”

“No apologies required. I indulge in a bit of profanity myself on occasion.”

“The, the order form… was it too much?”

Too much to hope for, that Vince’s blue eyes could be all for him. Too much to dream, that he could fix all his old mistakes. Too much, to think he could keep someone here when Vince had run so far, so fast, and made it impossible to get close again.

“Not at all. We are aware of your… connections, Mr. Grant. We would love to work with you on this request, and hope you would let your influential mother know how excited we were to be given this opportunity to truly prove the merits of our methods.”

Owen tried not to audibly snort.

“We already have a suitable candidate in mind who is most of the way through his basic training, although there have been a few… hiccups.”

“Hiccups?”

“Ah, it’s all part of the process.” She did not quite laugh, but there was a lilt to her voice that suggested she wanted to. “645898 is a sweet soul at heart, once you take apart the rest of him. I think he’ll be perfect for what you need.”

“So why the phone call?”

“It is customary for the company to directly contact clients of your… discerning and exacting taste. Considering the costs associated with so many specialized requests-”

“I am more than able to pay the amount owed, Ms. Renford.”

“Oh, we know that. This isn’t about money at all, Mr. Grant. Whumpees-R-Us is dedicated to client satisfaction, and it’s my job to look at this form, speak directly with you, and ensure that you receive exactly what you need.”

“So you can make him… want to stay here? Not able to leave?”

“Can we make him ‘love’ you, as you requested on your form?” Her voice held no mockery, no hint of judgement. “Mr. Grant, your request is considerable, but I believe we can ensure that your boy won’t ever be able to take a step out the front door without you by his side. We can make sure those big blue eyes are focused entirely on you, no matter what you do to him.”

Owen’s free hand clenched slowly into a fist, and something twisted and untwisted inside of him.

Vince’s eyes, all on me. No matter what I do.

“That sounds perfect,” Owen breathed out, shifting in the bed. “I want him to think I’m safe. That I’m the safest thing in the whole world.”

No matter how much I hurt him.

#whump #box boy #box boy multiverse #owen grant is a nice guy #pet whump #dehumanization #erase to control #intimate whumper #creepy whumper #tw: abusive language

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