It was getting late, and Oliver was trying to figure out whether or not his gambit had paid off. He knew Keith had gotten to the bar and gone inside…but whether Rod had actually done as Oliver demanded…well, no one really knew what might happen once Pigtown got involved. Threatening him probably hadn’t been the best move either, especially because Oliver had been making threats he was no longer sure he could back up, should things go awry. The magic ring he’d gotten, the one which cancelled out magic around it, had…cracked after he’d gone to the bar the night before. Whatever magic Pigtown was running on, it was a whole lot stronger than the parlor tricks Oliver had been taught by his grandmother, and the trinkets gifted to him in her will. Still, whatever happened, he was never going to be setting foot in that place again–that would be way too much of a risk. In fact, he should probably skip town entirely, just to be safe.
He sent Keith another text, telling him he was probably just going to cancel tonight…but at this point, why was he even trying? If Keith had gone into the bar, it was too late for him anyway, regardless of whether Rod had followed through on the bargain or not. He felt…a bit bad, really, but he’d never liked Keith that much–he’d never been able to love Keith like he’d loved Oliver in return. He was about to get ready for bed when he heard a heavy knock on the door to his apartment.
“Open up! It’s the police!”
The voice was low and gruff, with a hard edge to it. Had…something happened to Keith? Oliver went to the door and opened it up, and found himself staring up at a man who might as well have stepped out of his wet dreams. At least six foot four, his wide framed packed with muscle and squeezed into a leather police uniform, all of it meticulously shined. “There you are, Oliver–I think the two of us need to have a word.”
Did he…know him? Oliver’s eyes flicked to the badge on the shirt, and the name engraved on it. Keith Lewis. His eyes went wide, unable to believe it–had…had Rod really bought it? Had he turned little twinky Keith into this…fucking monstrous brute, just for him? Before he could say anything, Keith put a gloved hand on Oliver’s chest and shoved him back into the apartment, Oliver struggling to keep his balance. Keith stepped in, shut the door behind him, and locked the door. “Keith, uh, I…guess you met…Rod?” Oliver asked.
“Rod? Yeah, I know Rod–he’s my boss now,” Keith said, cracking his knuckles in his gloves as he walked forward, “I know you too, Oliver…kind of. It’s a bit…fuzzy. But I know what you fucking need, and I have a fucking job to do. You have information I need, and I’ve found that the best way to get that sort of thing is…a little unpleasant, but necessary.”
He stepped up to Oliver, grabbed him, and shoved him up against the hallway wall, and then pushed his body against him, pinning him there. Oliver moaned, and started grinding his ass back against the leather clad officer, unable to believe it. Rod had actually done it! “Fuck, sir, you can do whatever you want to me, I fucking want you so fucking bad…”
“Yeah, I bet you fucking do,” Keith whispered in his ear, “You fucking slut–do you fucking know what you put me through? Do you fucking know how much it fucking hurt? I…I still feel it, you know, the fucking ache. I wanna hurt you like you fucking hurt me, but I don’t even know where to fucking begin…”
“Fuck me sir, fuck me and show me what a bad boy I’ve been.”
“Fuck you?” Keith said, laughing, “Oh no boy–see, that’s what you want me to do. I didn’t come here to give you what you want pig. I came here to teach you a fucking lesson, about fucking with the wrong fucking people.”
He grabbed Oliver by the hair, slammed his face into the wall, and then flung him to the floor, where he lay for a moment, stunned.
“As far as fucking you is concerned…fuck, you know what? I really do want to rape that tight fucking ass of yours. I wanna leave it a gaping, bleeding crater. But you know what I think? I think you might enjoy that too much, you fucking slut, so let’s call that a reward. You know what we’re going to do first, to deserve a reward like that? You’re going to tell me how you were able to resist Master Rod yesterday. He’s real curious about how you made that work, you see, and I don’t think I can see myself fucking you unless you get real helpful, real fucking quick.”
Oliver scrambled up to his feet and backed up down the hallway, staring at the door to freedom behind Keith’s massive frame. “Look, Keith…I’m sorry, alright? Just–we can talk this out.”
“Oh no–you ain’t sorry for nothing, Oliver, I could feel how fucking horny you got, rubbing against my big fucking cock–well fuck you, you fucking slut–you’re gonna fucking get what’s coming to you.”
Oliver made a break for the fire escape, but Keith tackled him before he could even get the window open, and dragged him over to the radiator, where he handcuffed him to the base. Over the next few hours, Oliver endured what Keith considered to be an interrogation–stripped of his clothes, and beaten, until he told Keith everything he could–about the ring, about his grandmother, about how he’d been planning on running–when Keith was satisfied he’d gotten the truth, or at least enough to satisfy Rod, he decided to give Oliver a rest, took his boot off the young man’s balls, and let him sob a sigh of relief. He went into bedroom, where Oliver had told him the ring was, and picked it up–to think, all of this shit was caused by such a small thing. He dropped the ring to the floor, and stomped on it, hearing the already cracked crystal shatter under his heel. Back in the living room, Oliver heard the sound, and guessed what had happened–whatever came next, he was at Keith’s–and Rod’s–mercy.
Bracken's Corner 