Chapter Text
The moment the blindfolds came off, they were in trouble.
Their captors were standard for this kind of operation: six broad, brawny men roughly the same ages. If they hadn’t met in prison, they lived in the same areas, frequented the same bars and such. They’d be poor, blue-collar workers unable to hold jobs for long and amongst them they had more than a smattering of domestic violence convictions.
None of that worried him. It was their faces.
Aaron had seen their faces and as such substantially decreased whatever chance they had of getting out of here alive. He’d take an opportunity to run if possible but, realistically, he was looking at prolonging the time it took the men to decide to kill them.
Though he had a handful of minor aches and pains from the men’s rough handling, he’d come out of their scrape without major injury. Aaron glanced to his side.
Reid, who also had his long legs tied to the chair and hands bound behind his back, met his eyes with furrowed eyebrows. The concern was good – Reid had no visible head wounds, nothing impairing him mentally, and no other wounds he could make out.
It was Morgan who’d burst into their apartment first, who had taken the first blow, whose head had hit the ground with a sick crack. Aaron met his eyes and was relieved to see an angered shine, clear from the haze of a potential concussion. At least for now.
The most major of his concerns assuaged, he studied the group of men. Holding one of their pistols was a lean, wiry man. His nose was crooked, an old break healed wrong, the scars indicating a bar fight. When he stepped forwards, the other men fell away.
That was their leader.
“Did you think this was a good idea?” Morgan said. “Were you trying to get the FBI actively searching for you or just every force in the state?”
“Shut up,” Grey Eyes snarled, hardly sparing him a glance. Reid shrunk under the scrutiny as the man stepped closer. With a grubby hand he reached for Reid’s hair, stretching out a piece which had grown long enough to start curling, letting it spring back.
“This isn’t gonna do you any favours when they catch you,” Morgan continued. “Think about it.”
“I said shut up!”
“Leave him alone,” Reid said.
They’d get caught defending each other, winding their captors more and more and more until Grey Eyes boiled over. They were loyal to a fault and if Aaron let them keep on at it, that would be their undoing.
“What are you trying to achieve?” Aaron called, cutting above them. Grey Eyes tilted his head. “Whatever you want, there are better ways than this.”
Grey Eyes huffed out a sardonic laugh and strolled behind Reid, rubbing his hands lightly over his shoulders. Reid grimaced.
“Don’t touch him!”
“For god’s sake, shut him up,” Grey Eyes ordered. A man forced Morgan’s head back as the other rolled up one of the greasy cloths they’d used for blindfolds, stuffed it in his mouth and tied it securely.
“What I want,” Grey Eyes said to Aaron, “I know exactly how I’m gonna get it. And it doesn’t involve you either, so keep your mouth shut, got it?”
Morgan’s eyes widened and he struggled with increased fervour against the ropes; Reid’s face drained of colour and he gulped. They both looked to him, the fear written in Reid’s eyes, the tension in Morgan’s jaw, and he refused to sit and let it happen.
“What’d you want him for?” Aaron said.
Realisation cast a shadow over Morgan’s face.
That got Grey Eyes’ attention and he fixed Aaron with a stone cold glare. “Why wouldn’t I? Closest thing to a girl in here.”
Reid opened his mouth to protest, thrashing against the ropes. “Hotch, don’t, no—”
“Doesn’t mean he’ll be any good at it,” Aaron said.
He wasn’t going to let Reid take the fall. He’d let him down with Hankel and he’d be damned if he’d do it again. Though they thankfully hadn’t shown much interest in Morgan the same way, Aaron was determined not to let them do that to him either. If it meant putting himself in the crosshairs, well, he’d do what he had to. It was purely survival.
“And you would?” Grey Eyes challenged, raising an eyebrow. It was a game to him. It was all entertainment. That was good, easy to manipulate. Just attract the most attention and they’d focus in on him.
What concerned him was Morgan and Reid who were undoubtedly going to do their best to let it be themselves who got hurt.
It wouldn’t. Not Morgan, after Buford, and not Reid, after whatever had gone on with his father – Aaron didn’t have a definite answer, hadn’t pushed Reid for one, but there was an aura there he didn’t like.
He said nothing.
Grey Eyes stalked over to him and seized a fistful of his hair, jerking his head up sharply. “Isn’t that sweet,” he demurred. “Tell me, are you that desperate to save ‘em or are you just a fucking queer?”
It was spat with vitriol and he couldn’t say he didn’t expect it. His gaze caught Reid’s shoes, his odd socks showing through the sliver between his pants and shoes. He couldn’t let Reid do this. He wouldn’t.
“What do you want so you don’t hurt them?” Aaron said.
“Depends,” Grey Eyes said. “What’re you gonna give us?”
Morgan protested frantically through the gag as the taller man flicked the safety off his gun and held it to Morgan’s temple.
His job was to get them out of here safe. That was fine. That was negotiation. The collateral didn’t matter. Keep Reid and Morgan safe. That was all he had to do.
Aaron sighed and met Grey Eyes’ gaze with an equal resolve. He’d do what he had to. And right now, that was what they told him.
“Anything.”
Grey Eyes paced, circling back around to Reid. He was weighing something up in his head and Aaron tried to work his way around whatever might incline him to still choose Reid. How to circumvent it.
“I’ll hold you to that,” Grey Eyes warned. He laughed. “But you’re not nearly half as pretty as him. You’re gonna have to make up for it.”
And he had the sinking suspicion that he would.
Grey Eyes inclined his head and someone loosened the ropes around him. The gun glinted silver in the dim light, pressed to Morgan’s forehead, shiny with sweat.
Grey Eyes hauled him to his feet by his collar. “Anything funny and—”
“I get it,” Aaron said.
“You better,” Grey Eyes said, narrowing his eyes and scrutinizing him for a long moment.
An arm looped around his neck and Aaron threw his weight at the man behind. They staggered backwards. His pulse beat hard in his neck. The grip tightened. Another pair of hands pinned his arms and he conceded, lungs burning.
Grey Eyes’ mouth twisted in disapproval. He just about kept his feet under him as they dragged him over, and set his jaw as he stared up in defiance.
“Hotch, you don’t have to,” Reid begged. “I promise. It’s okay. I’ll – I’ll do what they want.”
“Will you be quiet?” Grey Eyes snapped.
Despite his pleas, he was trembling, pale and drawn; Aaron mouthed at him a silent reassurance: it’s all right. Reid pressed his lips together into a trembling line, tears clinging to his lashes.
“Leave him out of it,” Aaron said, steel in his voice.
Grey Eyes blinked once, twice, and punched him.
His nose cracked, cartilage splitting. Aaron coughed as blood poured into his throat. His face was a mess of burning pain, throbbing with his pulse, and it was all he could do to stand and breathe and let the worst of it pass.
Taking advantage of his shock, the men slammed him face down on the table, knocking the air from his lungs. He tried to push himself off but Grey Eyes shoved his shoulders back and he narrowly missed catching his chin hard on the metal.
“You don’t want another charge,” Aaron said, though he knew already that he was bluffing, that he’d never let any of this leave the room. “That’s extra time and you’ve been to prison, you know what they think of—”
“Exactly,” Grey Eyes snarled. “I’ve got three fuckin’ FBI agents here. If I’m going down I’m gonna make it worth it, you get me?”
Aaron struggled and their grip on him tightened. He heard footsteps behind him and kicked backwards, rewarded with a groan when he caught one of the men in the knee. They outnumbered him, they had the upper hand, he was never going to get out of it but the cornered, animal part of his brain was still baring its teeth. He couldn’t stop it any more than he could stop them.
He jerked away from the hands reaching for his belt, a futile endeavour that only delayed the inevitable. Someone yanked it out of his belt loops and a chill ran through his spine.
“Please,” Reid cried. “Please, you don’t – you don’t want to do this, you’re making a mistake.”
“Please, Reid,” Aaron said. He was quiet but Reid heard it, and fell silent. “Don’t.”
“Mhmm, listen to your boss,” Grey Eyes agreed. “Let him have it if he’s that desperate for it.”
A flush crept all the way to his neck as his skin burnt with embarrassment.
“Hotch,” Reid said, his voice watery. His eyes were wide and pleading and Aaron wished he had a way out this time. There were no other routes. Just through the thick of it.
“I’m sorry,” Aaron said thickly. His gaze jumped from Reid to Morgan and, despite the mortifying situation, their anger at the men touched him. Reminded him why he was doing it in the first place.
It had been coming in some small part since they’d gotten here, and certainly when he’d opened his mouth to defend Reid. Aaron had had the time for the implications to set in. None of that prepared him for the lurch of dread and humiliation as the man slipped his hands beneath the waist of his pants, calloused skin brushing over his hips, and eased his pants down so slowly it was a taunt.
He turned his head, his heart leaping into his throat for the brief moment the blood blocked his nose completely, and stared at the wall. He’d do this. He’d do this, but he wasn’t going to watch their reactions. That was his limit, he suspected, that was what kept him from everything.
Aaron swallowed. Grey Eyes hadn’t bothered to unbutton them after all so his pants were pooled around his thighs. Excruciatingly exposed, that didn’t make as much difference to his embarrassment as he hoped it might. Next were his boxers, his only warning the fingers Grey Eyes hooked around the band before tugging them down.
Reid whimpered and Morgan yelled into the gag. It made it worse to have them there, to hear their reactions – if it was quiet he could at least pretend he was alone. The men, he didn’t care about. He wouldn’t like their staring but he’d never see them again so it worked out. But Reid and Morgan were Reid and Morgan.
The zipper was the loudest sound in the room.
It rose up in him sudden and sick that this was happening. This was real, no longer a hypothetical or something squared away as something he thought of via victims. It was happening and it was happening to him.
Aaron’s mouth was dry despite the blood. “You don’t have to do this.”
“If I had to fuck someone, it’d be him,” Grey Eyes said, presumably meaning Reid. “You’re right about him being a whiny little bitch, I’ll give you that. Now it’s your turn to shut up.”
His abdomen ached where the table dug into his flesh.
Grey Eyes spat into his palm.
They wanted a reaction and they’d get one – nothing. Just their own frustration at not being able to achieve what they craved. Aaron welcomed the throbbing pain in his face, let himself fall into it, focused on nothing else.
There was the rub of skin on skin, and another wet splash as Grey Eyes spat again. Aaron wasn’t convinced the build up had any use other than letting his anxiety ramp up.
A belt cracked. He flinched, thrown abruptly back to a childhood fear. Their laughter rang out as Aaron put the pieces together. Nobody had hit him, and it was his own belt – they were trying to scare him and they’d god damned done it.
“Easy,” murmured Grey Eyes. “Easy, that’s it.”
He slid one arm under his head, jostling the broken cartilage, and used it to rest upon. The other he kept still, hoped they would forget that they’d let go. A firm arm remained over his shoulder blades, pinning him easily.
Grey Eyes’ finger brushed his exposed skin and Aaron bit his tongue hard, refusing to cower again; Reid’s low whine said it all. Though his heart raced, he forced his breathing to slow, long breaths on counts to four. The more relaxed he was – and wasn’t that a joke – the less of a chance he walked away injured. He couldn’t afford to be hurt. He wouldn’t be.
There was a hand, and the repugnant hardness as Grey Eyes stepped closer.
Counts of four. In, hold, exhale.
In, hold, exhale.
The table was smooth and devoid of purchase. There was nothing with which to anchor himself, nothing except the sickening stench of cigarettes and body odour and whatever cheap cologne Grey Eyes had doused himself in. His eyes burnt with it.
Morgan’s shouts came through muffled.
Just as Grey Eyes lined himself up, Aaron kicked at his knee and swung his elbow back. The pained grunt assured him he’d met his mark on both accounts.
He threw his weight sideways in the hope of dislodging some other man’s grip on him but that earned him a crushing weight on the small of his back, a sharp pain radiating right along his spine. Cold metal joined it.
It was happening.
“That how you want to play it?” Grey Eyes said. He sounded faintly winded but there was nothing victorious about it. “Have it your way.”
The man wrenched his arm behind his back and twisted.
Lightning shot through his elbow as his bones cracked. Aaron screamed, a short, strangled sound shattering his resolve not to give them a reaction. The pain was pure white agony. His vision whited out and he lifted his head, afraid he might vomit.
“Try that again and see where it gets you,” Grey Eyes said, giving his wrist a blistering squeeze. Aaron gasped, his eyes watering. There was a low murmur of voices and then his arms were forced to his sides. His broken wrist sent shockwaves right to his shoulder, nerves ablaze as bone ground together.
In one sharp movement, Grey Eyes thrust inside him.
Aaron cried out, something closer to a sob than a shout, at the sharp pain lancing through him. The spit did nothing to ease the process. He couldn’t relax but holding himself so tense only added to the pain. He balled his trembling hand into a fist, his broken arm searing, fingers burning. Tears gathered behind his eyelids.
And then Grey Eyes managed to go further.
He shuddered at the warm wetness, didn’t want to imagine what it was, knew all too well it’d be blood. He’d seen too many cases to have any part of this left to the imagination.
The man blew a long breath out and moaned lewdly.
As Grey Eyes canted his hips backwards, the pressure abated. He slid back in with the slap of skin on skin and the tearing pain lit anew. Rough hands found his hips and sunk their fingers around the bone, pressing into the divots beneath the crests.
“Fuck,” the man said. “Knew you’d be tight, huh, hard-ass like you.”
The other men tittered. Aaron lay still. He had nothing to say.
Grey Eyes yanked his head back by the hair, jarring his neck. “No, no, you’re not getting away with that. Look.”
Grey Eyes slammed his head flat on the table. Pain coursed through his nose, his cheekbone aching. Reid was crying, tears running along his jaw and dripping into his lap. Morgan accidentally met his eyes and averted his gaze, though with the pistol held to the base of his skull, Aaron suspected he had as little choice as he did. He closed his eyes. It didn’t matter. That image was going to stay with him forever.
“He’s not looking,” the man called.
“You look at them,” Grey Eyes commanded, “or you’ll be looking at them up here too.”
Aaron nodded, pain buzzing in his skull, and opened his eyes. His vision was already blurry with unshed tears and he let his eyes defocus, losing the world around him to faint shapes.
What, do you think they won’t see if you don’t see them?
His body lurched as Grey Eyes slammed into him, back to holding him by the hips. The pain tethered him to the present but he found himself rising away from his body, existing in the same space, hanging on to it by a thread.
It became a rhythm. His body moved like a ragdoll, jolting forwards with each thrust, hand sprawled out limp and relaxed. His hair fell over his forehead. Blood dribbled into his mouth.
Aaron wasn’t sure how long it lasted. Enough for something to dry and itch on his thigh. Enough for Reid’s crying to subside into truly silent tears and for Morgan to give up shouting. Enough to bleed the life out of them.
Grey Eyes hit something inside of him that sent electricity through him, a low heat coiling in his abdomen in spite of the pain. That elicited a knowing chuckle from the man. His thumb swept across the nape of Aaron’s neck. Hot breath and a warm wetness. Grey Eyes’ moan reverberated, his lips pressed to his skin, and Aaron shuddered.
To his horror, as Grey Eyes sped up, he felt his body respond, chemical arousal building in the pit of his stomach. Oh god, let it not be visible. Don’t let them see. His own shame was more humiliating than the degradation, the hands on his skin, the man forcing himself on him. Aaron wanted to cry. Had Reid and Morgan not been present, he thought he might have.
Grey Eyes’ hips smacked against his. Some of the men’s breathing had shifted, slid into a heavier cadence. Had they been doing it this whole time? With Grey Eyes as the most dominant in the group, he found himself banking on the man’s possessiveness to assure himself that this was the first and last time.
It had to be.
He was half hard when Grey Eyes let out a long moan, the man’s hands splayed out on the table as he leant above him, and pulses of disgustingly warm come spilled into him. Fuck. Aaron hadn’t even thought of a condom earlier, hadn’t had the capacity to. The throbbing pain deep in his abdomen wasn’t going to let him forget.
“Wasn’t so bad now, was it?” Grey Eyes teased, ruffling the back of Aaron’s hair. He didn’t move from the touch. Didn’t want whatever punishment it might earn him.
The man stood close behind him for a moment longer, and slipped his hand down Aaron’s front. He was frozen, vision hazy, terrified the realisation might prompt another round.
Grey Eyes stepped back. “Let him go.”
The instant he was free of their grip, Aaron tugged his pants up. Something wet oozed into his boxers. Neither possibility was one he wanted to dwell on. Without his belt he was on edge, acutely aware how easily they’d be able to take what they liked, but he didn’t hesitate to take back what fragments of his dignity were left.
Lightheaded from the pain, Aaron eased himself off the table, staying on his feet by virtue of his white-knuckled grip on the edge. That his broken arm was his dominant arm did him no favours. His vision sharpening, he raised his chin and met the steel in Grey Eyes’ gaze.
They had returned the pistol to Grey Eyes, who surveyed the room lazily before aiming it at Aaron and inclining his head towards Morgan.
“What?” Aaron said. There was an amused glint in the man’s eyes he wasn’t at all fond of. “You don’t want anything to do with them, you’ve established that.”
“I don’t,” Grey Eyes said. “You, on the other hand, you’re up for anything.”
His blood ran cold. “No.”
“You said it, not me.”
“I said anything provided you leave them out of it,” Aaron said. “What else do you want?”
“Get over there,” Grey Eyes said, his words a lazy drawl, stretched out as if he enjoyed saying them, “and suck his cock.”
Reid made a choked sound.
Morgan was behind him. If he checked, he’d see Morgan’s reaction and if he was to get them through this, Aaron had to keep it together.
“They aren’t involved,” Aaron said. The gun stayed levelled at him. “That was our deal. I didn’t think you were the type to go back on his word.”
“Nah, I’m not,” Grey Eyes said. “Maybe you oughta be more specific. But if you want a better deal, let me give you another choice: suck his cock or I put a bullet through his brain.”
Aaron ground his teeth. There were no alternatives, none that didn’t involve bargaining to be allowed to do it to Reid instead. He couldn’t make that choice and both were abhorrent. It wasn’t fair to either of them. But there was no way out of this one.
“Why his?” Aaron tried, tilted his head. “Not yours?”
Morgan protested.
“Are you really gonna argue with me?” Grey Eyes said, his finger loosely on the trigger. “You really should be glad I’m not getting you to fuck him. God knows you’d do it.”
Grey Eyes raised an eyebrow and glanced pointedly at his crotch (where, thankfully, he was as unaroused physically as mentally).
“I still could,” he continued. “So you’d better get over there.”
Aaron concealed the shifting ache with each step. The pistol dug into the small of his back as Grey Eyes marched him towards Morgan like a prisoner to his execution.
Morgan’s wrists were raw and bleeding from fighting the ropes and one eye was swollen half shut. The rag was harsh on his skin, rubbing raw where he’d struggled. Despite his injuries, he sat with squared shoulders, staring at Grey Eyes in controlled defiance.
He shook his head as soon as he met Aaron’s gaze, the anger softening, mellowing out into fear. Aaron’s stomach sunk like a stone. How could he do this to Morgan? How could he take that trust, so rarely given and so damned valuable, and shatter it?
“Take me. You don’t get anything from him, I know you don’t want him,” Aaron said. He swallowed. “Fuck me again. Do what you want, I won’t fight you. Just leave them alone.”
Grey Eyes aimed at Morgan and placed a bony hand on Aaron’s shoulder.
“Morgan,” Aaron said, half hoping he’d look at him, half relieved that he’d tilted his head up to stare at the ceiling. It took him an effort to keep the tears from his voice. “I promise, if there was anything else I could—”
He stumbled as Grey Eyes swept his knee out and fell with a jolt. His arm screamed and his vision danced with white blotches as his ears rang. Boots moved around to stand behind Morgan, the gun nestled at the base of his skull.
Aaron had no way out.
He knelt with his hands in his lap. Hesitation was a mark against him but he couldn’t reach out for Morgan without some kind of provocation, unable to stop himself delaying the inevitable. He raised his eyes and Morgan’s were remorseful and furious, a fiery mix in the deep brown. Aaron regretted it instantly. What had he been searching for – permission? As if. He wasn’t going to get it and he shouldn’t. He didn’t want to.
“Hurry up before I change my mind,” Grey Eyes said.
Morgan shook his head and protested through the greasy rag, thrashing away from him in his bounds.
“Do what they say,” he said, hating the merest trace of agreement with them, hated that he was asking for compliance. “Please.”
Morgan swallowed and set his jaw, the cloth drawing tighter. There was a liquid sheen to his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, fighting to keep his voice steady.
Grey Eyes sighed and Aaron shifted on his knees. As he undid Morgan’s belt he resolved not to look up at him again, didn’t think he’d be able to tolerate it if he did. And Morgan deserved better than to have to try and comfort him while he was the one violating him.
He opened Morgan’s fly and – small mercies – they didn’t take issue with that as opposed to thoroughly exposing him. The thought gave him something solid, almost comforting. They didn’t care as much about Morgan’s humiliation as they did his own. That was… good.
Aaron breathed, clearing some of the blood form his nose, and reached for Morgan’s dick through his boxers. Soft and warm in his hands, his skin crawled with revulsion at himself. Everything about this was wrong –he felt sick with guilt at being the one to do this.
Because he’d thought about it. Hadn’t breathed a word of it aloud but he’d thought about it. About Morgan. About them.
Never like this.
He swallowed and tasted blood.
Not like how you thought it’d be, huh?
The hand in his hair jerked him forwards impatiently. Grey Eyes had swapped places with one of the other men while he’d been zoned out.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, so quiet he wasn’t sure if Morgan even heard. If it made a damn bit of difference at all.
He took Morgan into his mouth as slowly as he dared, adjusting to the weight on his tongue. Beside his head, Morgan’s thighs tensed and pulled at the ropes as he made a strangled sound.
Aaron’s breath whistled through his broken nose. Sour metal almost masked the faint musk as he ducked his head forwards, took Morgan up as far as he could stand without gagging. His cock was beginning to harden on his tongue. The realisation drew twin tendrils of disgust and relief.
Grey Eyes forced him further. Sharp pain lanced through his sinuses as he was pushed into Morgan’s groin, nose buried in the dark thatch of hair. His dick hit the back of his throat and he fought the spasming—the hand hadn’t let up, wasn’t going to let him draw back.
Aaron swallowed around Morgan’s dick and drew a painful breath in through his nose. Keep breathing and he’d be fine. Don’t panic. Get on with it.
He drew the tip of his tongue along the underside of his shaft, earning more creaking from the chair as Morgan struggled. As the pressure in his hair disappeared, Aaron eased back and flicked his tongue over the velvety head. Morgan’s cock twitched and he nudged Aaron’s knee with the tip of his shoe. He focused on the pulsing pain in his face, let it shield him from the reality of what they were doing, and found an uncomfortable rhythm in stroking him with his good hand.
For some time, there was a near silence punctuated by the occasional groan or grunt from one of the men – Aaron preferred not to think about what they were doing. The slick sound of his mouth on Morgan’s cock seemed to echo, impossibly loud, louder even than he did the ropes rustling and chair creaking.
His knees ached. His insides ached.
When Morgan’s hips stuttered forwards, Aaron cried out as the movement sent shockwaves through his nose. There were traces of blood on his cock, caught in his pubic hair; the rest was drying on his face, tacky and stiff, or dark splatters on the concrete.
He caught on after a minute that Morgan was restraining himself from moving, trying to go easy on him; he was throbbing, his breathing erratic. They were nearly done. It ran through his head on a loop: nearly over, nearly over, nearly over. Just a little more and they’d be done. The muscles in Morgan’s abdomen were taut and tense.
“Get it on the floor and you’re cleaning it up,” Grey Eyes said, running his fingers through Aaron’s hair in an absurdly gentle manner. The grip tightened and sharp pain lanced across his scalp as the man forced him to take Morgan’s full length.
Morgan kicked at his knee urgently. Despite his efforts to the contrary his hips bucked and his cock hit the back of Aaron’s throat. His throat seized involuntarily as he fought his gag reflex, under no illusion what would happen if he was to vomit.
Hot come pulsed down his throat as Morgan thrust into his mouth, an unpleasant stickiness coating his insides. Aaron’s throat spasmed, tears spilling over, and he swallowed repeatedly. Blood and salt. It surged right back up the moment he’d choked it down but it was all he could do until Morgan let out a final groan and fell limp within the bounds.
Aaron swallowed the last traces and sat back on his heels, wincing at the pain, Morgan’s dick softening against his pants. His stomach contracted and he retched wetly, a rush of blood and bile flooding his mouth. He pressed his hand to his face and forced himself to swallow it all once more.
When no more orders came from Grey Eyes, Aaron tucked Morgan’s dick back into his pants – he doubted the men would, and he thought he owed him that little dignity at the very least - thoroughly unable to meet his eyes and utterly disgusted with himself.
He sat back, allowed himself one moment to catch his breath, to exist in a relative calm. It didn’t last. One of the men hauled him upright by his shoulder, bumping his broken arm, and practically shoved him at his chair.
Grey Eyes stood over him. “You want to know what I think?”
“No.”
“He got his reward,” Grey Eyes said, gesturing to Morgan. His reward appeared much more like a panic attack. “And I’ve left your friend here alone because he’s learnt to shut up. But you, you’ve done all the work.”
Although wary, the men had a gun to his head so Aaron let them tie him to his chair. Didn’t have many other options. He bit back a groan as the rope around his wrists dug into the swollen soreness padding the break.
“Get to your point.”
Grey Eyes shrugged and reached for Aaron’s cock through his pants. He shifted out of his grip, reigniting the pain low in his abdomen. “Get the hell off me!”
“Relax,” Grey Eyes smirked. “It’s just your reward, that’s all.”
Aaron didn’t trust that and moreover he didn’t want the man anywhere near him even if his intent was wholly altruistic. “I don’t need it.”
“I saw you earlier. Deny it all you want but you do.”
“You’ve had your fun,” Aaron said. “Tell me what you want or leave me alone, but I don’t need this.”
Grey Eyes got to his feet and dusted off his knees. “Fine, fine. The quiet one can have it.”
“No,” Aaron said before Reid opened his mouth. Reid didn’t have to get involved, Reid didn’t have to be a part of this, and he wasn’t going to let him become one at the last minute.
“Hotch, it’s okay,” Reid said shakily. “It’s only, uh, it’s just a—”
“You’re right!”
Grey Eyes paused.
“He’s done nothing,” Aaron continued, hating himself more with each word. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I’ll have it.”
He screwed up his face as if in deep thought and clicked his tongue. “Not really convincing me here.”
“Please,” Aaron said, genuine desperation bleeding into his voice. Grey Eyes needn’t know it wasn’t for his own sake. “Please.”
His interest in Reid already fading, Grey Eyes sauntered over and once more stood over him. The authority issues were obvious – he needed someone to feel superior over. Aaron imagined someone begging… that would feed rather well into his complex. If he was going with that angle the focus wasn’t on Reid – it was him, wanting it, deserving it.
Reid gulped. Aaron decided it was better not to know if either of them were watching, though knowing Grey Eyes, they might not have the option to avoid it.
“Better,” Grey Eyes hummed.
The crouched in front of his chair and unbuttoned his pants and slid a hand inside, cupping him through his boxers. Aaron’s skin crawled as the man stroked him slowly through the fabric.
This seemed like the end. It had to be. He had to hang on through this and they’d be fine.
Grey Eyes sunk to be kneeling, his legs splayed wide, obviously hard. He peered up at Aaron expectantly.
“Please,” Aaron repeated, wetting his dried lips and tasting blood, stalling for time. “You’re right. I do, I – I want it.”
It was a pathetic attempt for a pathetic man, though perhaps that might score him points in his favour. Let him think Aaron was struggling, that he was willingly submitting. He’d never been less aroused in his life: his face and arm throbbed something miserable; a third of his team had seen him on that table; they were held hostage by a rapist. What unnerved him was Grey Eyes’ unpredictability. It left him unable to determine the man’s next move, unable to nudge things in the direction Aaron wanted them. There was a minefield of hair-triggers for that temper.
“I don’t think that’s what you said,” Grey Eyes said.
It took him a minute.
“I need it,” Aaron lied, and thought he might as well keep at the inferior, submissive angle until he found something better. The words stripped him raw with embarrassment, chafing like sandpaper against his skin. He took a gamble. “I need you.”
Grey Eyes shoved the front of his boxers down. His hands were warm yet clammy, an uncomfortable combination. “I didn’t have to do this,” he said. “I could’ve just fucked you and left you there. I’m being nice and this is the thanks I get?”
Aaron’s breath caught in his throat as the man flicked his thumb over his head. The heat was beginning to build, his dick feeling hot and sensitive in Grey Eyes’ hands. His brief hope that he’d get hard came trailed by an overwhelming disgust at himself and he let his head fall back, staring up at the ceiling. Considering the situation, it was a miracle Morgan had managed to react at all.
“Oh, come on now,” Grey Eyes murmured. “Maybe I ought to fuck you again, that’ll get you going, won’t it?”
He closed his eyes. No. He wasn’t going to think of Morgan or Reid or anybody else with this man’s hand wrapped around his cock. This was separate. This existed here and here only.
You told him anything.
Colour rose in his cheeks as the heat intensified and he was hardening at the man’s ministrations, an electric mix of shame and pleasure. Aaron swallowed bile.
“Won’t it?”
The friction, without so much as spit, was abrupt and intentional. He hissed through his teeth at the pain, could easily imagine Grey Eyes’ satisfaction.
“Yes,” Aaron said, and hoped to God that wasn’t the actual plan.
“Look at me.”
He didn’t wait for a warning this time, reluctantly hung his head and opened his eyes. Grey Eyes palmed himself through his own pants.
“Tell me you wanted it, and like you fucking mean it.”
It struck him, an absurd thought amongst all of this, that Grey Eyes must be pretty fucking dismal at this when he was doing it consensually. His tone fell squarely into ‘bored’ more than ‘seductive’ and not the intentional kind of bored, either.
“I wanted it,” Aaron breathed, in a rush to get it over with, spitting out the first phrases that came to mind. “I needed it. Needed you. Please. I know you saw, I was… I was hoping you’d see how much it turned me on. How much I wanted you. I knew you would.”
He deliberately did not think of Reid or Morgan. Didn’t think about how he’d violated Morgan and now sat telling Grey Eyes everything was turning him on.
Didn’t think about the cool air and how warm, how hard his dick was.
Aaron longed for the disconnected feeling of earlier but there was nothing. Him and his pleasure and his pain. He didn’t deserve the easy way out, but was it too much to hope for it?
Grey Eyes redoubled his efforts with fast, rough strokes, murmuring obscenities which washed right over him. Quantity over quality, it seemed. Aaron hated how he was throbbing against the man’s fist. Given the choice between this or that bullet between his eyes, he wasn’t convinced he’d have gone for the former.
At least with someone’s mouth there was plausible deniability. It’d still have been Grey Eyes but the wet heat could be anyone. With the man’s hands around him, Aaron couldn’t even pretend in the slightest it was anyone but.
It was almost a blessing when the heat low in his stomach curdled, his breath hitching as he dropped his head back, and he didn’t want this, didn’t want to do this but he needed it over with and Grey Eyes’ off him and god, he was going to do this in front of Morgan and Reid. He tried to free himself to no avail.
“No,” Aaron begged, well and truly laid down his pride and begged. “Please. Don’t – ah – do this.”
And he must’ve made Morgan feel the exact same way, oh Jesus, he did the same thing. Humiliated and degraded and assaulted him. Worse, Morgan had trusted him.
Grey Eyes laughed, rolling his thumb over his slit in that awful-brilliant way, and shook his head.
His arm jerked against the rope as he came with a stifled cry, stomach lurching, throat tight with tears. Aaron let his head fall back as he breathed through his nose. If he opened his mouth, he’d be sick.
Grey Eyes shoved him back into his pants and stepped back, a dark admiration shining in his eyes.
“And what do you say now?” he taunted.
“Go to hell,” Aaron spat.
With a low chuckle, Grey Eyes swiped his hand across Aaron’s face and patted his cheek condescendingly. His men followed him out and with that they were gone. He lifted his shoulder, ducking his head to wipe at the wetness there and let his eyes lose focus once again.
That was how they left him: his pants open and shirt crumpled, smeared blood and come drying on half his face, staring vacantly at the door through which they’d disappeared.