Chapter Text
Stale air filled your lungs as you tried to steady your breathing, surrounded by crumbling cobblestone walls. There were no windows that didn't lead to death in the sea - they must’ve known you’d try to escape from them, the only proper light being a few lanterns upon the desolate stone. They were fading, however. The room itself seemed to be an old bedroom that had been then converted into a storeroom, if not converted back into a bedroom, the bed resting in the center, but sheet-covered furniture filling much of the floor’s empty space. No matter what it was, you didn’t want to be here, and as you took another deep breath, the scent of dust nearly made you cough.
You had been waiting, now, for at least an hour. Behind one of these decrepit pieces of wooden furniture you now hid, watching the door with an intense view. It had been some time since anyone had entered, and the last time someone did – one of those robed freaks that was under that bastard, Ramón – you had fought them as much as your body would let you. Claws, fists, whatever worked, until they had reluctantly withdrawn, even being stupid enough to drop their knife, never having tried to fight back. Of course, they had only been bringing you a glass of...water? Wine? You still weren’t sure what the liquid was as it sat upon a dresser, untouched, but you didn’t care. Any of them were complacent in keeping you here, and you’d be damned to let them get away with it.
There were footsteps, echoing outside the door. You tensed something fierce, crouching down, waiting with your breath held. The air was chilled, making you shiver as you waited, but you grit your teeth and did your best to ignore this. When someone entered, they obviously had the key to the door, and you intended to get that damn key this time and escape. These bastards had kidnapped you weeks ago, kept up in this room like some sort of pet, and you were sick of it. They’d taken your clothes, leaving you in a robe like theirs, which was freezing most days. Now, though, it would end. You were done with this nonsense.
A click from the door. You couldn’t see it from your angle, but you heard it, the hinges resisting from years of wear. Then, the door closed, the sound of the lock being engaged overtly loud. Then there was silence, for about a minute, as if whoever had entered were doing the same thing you were. Observing. Waiting. Planning. After this, the footsteps began, far louder than any of Ramón’s lackeys. This made you hesitate in your decision – you were in no shape to actually fight, even with a weapon, relying more on your surprise and speed than strength on the last attack. Who had he sent for you? Why had someone new been sent?
It didn’t matter. You needed out. You were quick, you were prepared, and you had a desire like no other to be free. And, so, as you stood by the old shelf, breath held, you heard the footsteps. Your knife was up, ready to pierce. The footsteps were...different, though. Loud. Calculated. Confident. You were scared, admittedly, but you had to ignore that. Now, the figure was coming right by your hiding place, and your heart beat like a caged animal. This was it. And, as you saw the shadow of the form step by, you faltered.
They were twice your size. This...this was not some ordinary servant. No, this...whoever he was, there was no way he was directly below Ramón. This had to be one of the higher ups in the castle, someone of respect. A gray shirt, no robe. Jeans, even, possibly. It was hard to tell. But, you didn’t care, not in this moment. You had to leave, no matter whoever it was, and so with a very quiet step, you lunged from the darkened hiding place, knife out, ready to slice. And as you did, you let out a very loud yelp, a massive hand taking your wrist with a vice grip.
Well, fuck, you thought, and though your knife was incapacitated, you reared to hit with the other hand, only, again, to be stopped with another grab. Now, you stood there, both wrists on either side of your head as the figure restrained you. Panic was seeping into your very core.
“I knew you were in here,” he stated, quite monotone in his words as he looked at you. You tried to jerk back, but he held tight, and the hand that held your wrist with the knife started to squeeze. You gave another yelp, trying to resist, until the force was so strong that you had to drop the knife. The metal hitting the floor reverberated off the walls, and your heart sank. Whoever held you terrified you. He was large, his arms covered in dense muscle. It was his face that made you the most uncomfortable, though, a very aggressive, yet mild, expression across it, followed by a large scar that you were surprised had healed as well as it appeared. Blue eyes now pierced your own, and you found yourself unable to move, for just a moment, as this figure seemed to take you in.
That hesitation didn’t last long, though, another attempt to resist him building within you. A jerk back, then another. The knife was right there, and you glanced at it, only for him to lift one of his boots and kick it far out of the way, into a clutter of covered furniture that you knew would be hard to move. This had fallen apart far too quickly for your liking, and now, you really didn’t know what to do. The other ‘servants’ had not been this intense. You were not as prepared as you thought you were.
“So you’re who everyone’s afraid of?” He leaned down to match height with you, and seemed to look at you as if you were some fine antique that needed appraising; curious, but not entirely interested. “I can’t say I understand it.”
You pulled again, tired of his grip on you, and he actually let go, causing you to stumble back against some of the furniture. Seemingly by his own instinct, he reached out, his two hands at your sides as if to steady you. This only frustrated you further, and you let out a dissatisfied grunt, shuffling back and away from him as well as the corner would let you. His eyes just turned to disapproving slivers.
“I’m sure you’re terrified,” he began.
“Furious, more like it,” you abruptly replied. Afraid, too, yes, But he didn’t need to know that.
“That, too. But you’re here for an important purpose,” he continued, stepping from his position. This made you falter back, but he didn’t come towards you, instead just looking around the room. “Hardly fair of ‘em to keep you here,” he muttered.
“Just let me go!” you hissed, and when he looked back at you, it was quite obvious you were shivering. This was a mixture of fear and the cold temperature, but you were trying your damnedest to not be obvious with either one. He was an enemy, and you didn’t want to show any kind of weakness to him. Then again, you didn’t exactly look like a formidable opponent in this moment, hardly clothed by thethin robe and a bit disheveled.
“You cold, or what?” He was looking down at you, with...what? Pity? Anger? You couldn’t tell.
“Cold,” you quipped. He’d noticed, why lie? The robe barely covered you, and the room did not hold any kind of heat. The fact this castle held itself together in any form was surprising to you.
He then muttered something about the servants being incompetent as hell and stepped away from you, his head swiveling around the room as if looking for something. When he found whatever it was he wanted, he stepped towards it, shoving a few pieces of furniture out of the way as if they were nothing. Behind them rested a fireplace, covered in dust and old ash, but still likely functional. Even more of a surprise was the small pile of wood that rested near it, likely filled with some sort of rot. You only watched – with much suspicion – as he took the wood and started the fire, having had a lighter or match on him.
Who the hell are you? was what you kept thinking to yourself. With a few sparks, the fire lit, bathing the room in a welcoming orange glow. As he stood up, walking back towards you, the heat began to spread, and you had to admit it was welcoming to your very exhausted body. Still, your nerves were having a war within you, and when the man stepped towards you, you could only press yourself against some piece of furniture.
“You can call me Jack,” he told as he stopped just a few feet from you. What was this look he kept giving you? Why could you not read him? His face appeared to be weathered, angered, anything but peaceful, but the way he spoke didn’t imply any sort of emotion whatsoever.
“I don’t care who you are, Jack. I just want to leave.”
“Sorry, but that can’t happen. You have a bigger purpose here. One that you should be grateful to be a part of.” His look was now, definitely, disproving, but you didn’t care about that. His words were almost an insult, and in your fit of rage and fear, you sneered, sliding yourself between him and loose furniture, thinking you actually had the ability to fight this monster of a man. Without even flinching, his hand moved, strafing you away from him and to the side. In your own falter, he reached for your arm, twisting it around your back so quickly that you had no time to comprehend anything that was happening. Now, though, you were in a very uncomfortable position with both your arms held firm behind you, as if you were being detained.
“I don’t want this to be difficult. I really don’t.” He loosened his grip some, but not completely. “I’m a lot of things, sweetheart. But I really don’t want to be known as a man who takes advantage of a woman, if I don’t have to be.”
What?! This...this infuriated you further, and you let your mind longingly think back to the knife he had kicked away. Who was he, and what did he want? Did you really care? Fuck, no, you just had to get out of here. You had to escape. As if your instincts were overruling any other rational thought that said you can’t beat this man, you started to rut against him, in which he simply tightened his grip again. He said nothing as you did this, but after a moment, he sighed, pushing his weight down to force you onto your knees.
“Are you finished?”
“Let me fucking go!” You were beyond furious, your mind a disaster at this moment. You hadn’t felt this much rage in such a long time, and it was a growing flame within you.
“I’m not doing that until you calm down.”
You weren’t going to listen to him, and so you found yourself fighting more, trying so hard to break from his vice grip around you. He seemed almost bored by this, unbothered, as if you were just a nuisance and nothing more. You didn’t know if it were arrogance, or he legitimately could not be bothered to care, but the feeling frustrated you. After another minute of this struggle, he let out a very heavy sigh.
“If you don’t stop, this will be a lot worse, hun. Don’t make me do something I don’t want to do.” He didn’t wait very long to follow through with his threat, one large hand sliding over your neck and under your jaw. You wanted to fight more, but when his fingers wrapped around the front of your throat, slowly, as if he were giving you the moment to consider your actions, you started to calm. He didn’t have to squeeze until you were unconscious, the fear of just feeling his grip over your delicate skin enough to make you halt. This was the closest any of these people had gotten to you, and it made you quickly realize he wasn’t going to waste time with you, like the others did.
“That’s what I thought.” He let go of you, so much so that you fell to your hands and knees, scrambling in an instant to be away from whoever the hell this man was. You felt disgustingly pathetic, now, barely dressed, in some old storeroom, with whoever he was now showing far too much interest in you. Now, you turned, standing, glaring at him. He really did just look like he was bored, though maybe now his eyes had just a bit of pity in them. Did he pity you? Why? How dare he have any feeling like that when he was obviously part of the reason you were here.
“They brought you something to drink earlier. Did you drink it?” He took a few loose steps, but his eyes seemed to be scanning the room. You didn’t reply, because, at this point, you weren’t sure what to do. Should you keep trying to fight? That seemed dumb – he was twice your size, and had quickly shown he was not going to entertain your frustration. The door was obviously locked, he wouldn’t have been so stupid or arrogant to keep it unlocked. No. What did you do, now, except stand and stare at this beast of a man who called himself Jack?
“I take that as a no,” he grimaced, now actually walking and looking for something. He was making you nervous – you had no time to think while he was there, pacing. But, he found the chalice of liquid sitting on some dresser, still quite full of whatever the hell they had brought. He lifted it, swirling the stuff, then gave a quick tick of his head as if he were off put by it. “I can understand why you didn’t drink it, but, you’re going to have to.” He then turned back to you.
“I don’t have to do anything,” you insisted. You would at least do your best to not, anyway.
“Either you can drink it on your own, or I can make you.” He held up the chalice. “The choice is yours.” The way he spoke the last bit, as if through grit teeth, intimidated you.
“I don’t want to drink it, Jack,” you hissed, wondering if saying his name would at all change any dynamic in this moment. He sighed, closing his eyes before opening them down at the chalice in his hand.
“That’s not an option. Please, just drink it. I don’t want to make you.” The last few words came out as if he were arguing with himself, a strain in his voice, his eyes looking at you with an almost pleading gaze. But, whatever that liquid may have been, it was obviously something...different. Not just water. No, nobody would be so aggressive about water, or wine. Something was wrong with it – and you intended to have nothing to do with it. But what could you do? You had no weapons, an while you had places to hide for a moment or two, the room was not huge. He’d find you. It’d be a stupid game of cat and mouse, and make you look like a massive coward. No. You were in such a bad situation, and now, your heart started to sink. You felt that whatever was going to happen in this room was going to change you, and you weren’t sure you were prepared for that.
“Last chance, sweetheart.” He held up the chalice. “What will it be?”
You just...couldn’t respond. You weren’t sure why, but, it was if a new fear had overtaken you. Would he make you drink it? What did that mean? Would he hurt you, until you agreed? You simply froze in your spot, which was right up against some cloth-covered cabinet, and stood there. Your breath was catching in your throat, panic ebbing at your nerves. What could you do? Why did you feel so disgustingly trapped? Then, you looked at him with very pleading eyes, something you hoped would bring out a better nature in him, if he had one. But he just sighed, closing his eyes to look away from you.
“So be it,” he pointedly said. Before your heart had a moment to catch up to your nerves, before you could focus on anything else, he moved. And by all the hell you had been through, he was fast, having appeared behind you in a way that no normal human should have been able to. You couldn’t even gasp as one of his legs went behind your knee, dropping you. He did catch you, at least, but he placed you on the ground onto your back, straddling your torso with enough of his weight that you knew you wouldn’t be able to kick him off.
An arm still went up in an instinct to fight, but it didn’t seem to phase him. No, now he placed an arm under your neck, the other taking hold of your jaw, and leaned over you, illuminated by the fire in a ghastly light. You tried to writhe, you tried to buck against him, but he was not of normal strength. No, now he leaned down, and his lips met yours, which made you want to fight even more. When you thought it wouldn’t get worse, you could taste a very sharp taste, something with a mixture of copper and dry wine, pouring into your mouth. What a horrible liquid it was, and you felt helpless. He did not move, though, holding you tightly against his form as he waited for you to swallow the disgusting stuff. Knowing that, in this moment, you really had little choice, you obliged, if for anything but to get him off of you. It did not go down easily.
His tongue was in your mouth, for a moment, testing for the liquid, which gave you another urge to fight that you resisted. Then, he pulled up, still straddling you but no longer holding your jaw. You were now coughing a bit, the liquid hanging in your throat before working its way through, and you could only give him a very disapproving glare. A small bit of it still rested on your lips, and you wiped it off.
“There’s still half the cup left. I can do that again, or you can drink it yourself.”
For fuck’s sake, did you not want to go through that again. No, and so you held up your hands as if surrendering, and replied, “I’ll drink it. Just get off of me.”
He did not respond, but obliged, holding out a hand to help you up in which you disregarded. As you stood up, trying to make sure the robe stayed down and covering you, he stepped back to where he had left the chalice, taking it from its spot and holding it out to you. Nervously, you stepped over to him, as if afraid he were an unpredictable animal.
“You’re not wrong to be afraid of me,” he abruptly said. “But, you don’t need to be. Not now, anyway.”
Maybe you should’ve asked about what that meant. Maybe you needed to be more concerned. But, you gave him a very uncertain glance before taking the cold metal cup from him, looking down at the half-filled thing. The liquid was bitter, something awful that still hung in your throat, but you had accepted you had no real choice but to drink it, and instead of focusing on it, its bad taste and scent, you simply poured the thing into your mouth, taking just two gulps before the rest was gone. You visibly grimaced, unsure of what concoction you’d just ingested. There was nothing to do about it now, though, and you hoped it wouldn’t have any lasting effects past its taste.
Jack took the cup and placed it back on its resting spot, then he leaned against the dresser, looking down at you.
“So, are you going to work with me on this?”
“What?” You gave him a suspicious glance. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied. You really didn’t understand anything that was happening around you, to be fair. Him, the other servants, Ramón. No, none of it. You gave a very, very quick glance to the door, wishing you had some way to just walk out, but you knew better than to eye it while he was watching you.
“You really don’t know why you’re here?” he inquired.
“No.” It was a simple reply, but...true.
He gave a look of obvious anger, closing his eyes and grimacing, the scar on his face only helping to make him look much angrier. A click came from the fire, its warmth having filled the entire room by this point, and you only could stand and wonder what any of it meant. Then, Jack gave a sigh, leaning further against the dresser on which he rested, looking up to the ceiling with what seemed to be despair.
“I won’t fuck around, then.” He tilted his head to the side, eyes closed again, teeth showing in what could be taken as pain, but you figured was annoyance. “You’re here as part of the ‘Regeneration’ project, as they call it.” He stopped his grimace to look at you. “To see if that parasite can be inherited through breeding.” The last word he said through grit teeth, as if the very word itself were something repulsive and unclean.
Oh, what the fuck? What did that mean? Parasite? You? Did ‘breeding’ mean you? Your heart sank a thousand miles, and you stepped back, as if the words were about to fall onto you.
“Yes, that means you. You’re the first one they want to test it on.” He crossed his arms.
“W...with..y..,” you began to mutter. Oh, how so much suddenly made sense to you.
“Yes, with me.”
“W...what?” you asked, but to the air more than to him. “What parasite?”
He disregarded this question. “That stuff they gave you to drink? Supposed to help. Somehow. Might make you tired, too, so we shouldn’t waste time.”
You were only blinking, looking down at the floor as if you didn’t even speak the same language.
“I know, it’s a lot to take in.” He shifted on his stance, and took a deep breath. “If you just let this be easy, we can have a fun time. Both of us can enjoy it, or neither of us can. That choice is yours.”
You...did not want that. Did they look at you like cattle? Something to breed for their needs, their weird desires? Oh, hell no, that settled things within you very quickly. You had to go. You wouldn’t do that. As Jack stood there, looking at you, awaiting your decision, you stepped back.
“I’m not interested.”
“That is not part of the decision. Sorry.”
“I don’t...I don’t want to be a part of this---”
With an abrupt movement that made you nervous, he pushed off the dresser.
“You were chosen because you fit the needs of the project. You have to be a part of it, whether you want to or not. So, like I said, you can either make it fun for both of us or just another job I have to do.”
“That’s...that’s fucked up,” you insisted.
“It may be, but it’s how things are here. There’s a lot riding on this project. You should be grateful you get to be a part of it.”
“I should be grateful I’ve been kidnapped?” you added.
He gave a very distasteful glare, crossing his arms.
“You’ve had to worry about nothing for weeks now, have you? All your needs have been cared for. When they found you fit their...’project’, that hack, Ramón, insisted they make your stay...comfortable.”
Your mouth hung open, as if to protest. In thinking about it, they kind of had waited on you as you’d been here. Food. Water. Even nice soaps for baths and hygiene needs, which was surprising since the castle seemed a tad unclean itself. But, even if that were the case, you did not want to be here. You didn’t want to be part of some weird ‘project’ to breed whatever the fuck he was talking about, and kidnapping was still kidnapping, no matter how well they treated you.
“I...Jack. I don’t want this.”
He sighed, and cracked his shoulder as if to give him something else to focus on.
“Don’t make me do this,” he finally said, with a very despairing tone. He wasn’t going to stand there and continue to argue with you, you knew, but you just...you didn’t want this. The weight of everything had came crashing down on you, now, and you found yourself backing up. Where would you go? Nowhere, obviously, but you couldn’t stand the thought of knowing this man in such a way. Not like this, no. How had it came to this? How was this your life, now?
“Jack…” This was basically begging.
“Are you going to comply or not? Stop wasting time and tell me.” He seemed to be begging in his own way, desperately wishing you to do as he wanted. Desperately hoping you’d not fight him further.
Could you fight, at all? Could you try to win? Did he have a key? A thousand questions were in your mind, but he wasn’t waiting for you to consider them. Nothing he had said or done had even really put you at ease to consider knowing him in such a way, so what the fuck did he expect of you?
“Alright, then. So be it. I just hope you don’t hold it against me later,” he conceded, to himself, you were sure, more than to you.
Just as before, this man moved far too quickly to be just a normal human. No, you had just went to turn, as if maybe you could hide, when he was upon you. One of his arms went around you neck, so that it rested in its crook, while the other had managed to grab hold of your own arms, pinning them behind you. This was a very dangerous and impossible hold to escape from, evident by how hard you tried to move with no avail. Panic was now settling in your mind and body, your nerves screaming in fear as your heart tried to escape your chest. This couldn’t happen, not like this.
The two of you stood there, as if he really had to think about what he was doing. But, no, instead of considering any other option, he shifted, releasing your neck to face you, lifting you over his shoulder as if you had no weight. There really wasn’t a way to get out of this. It was obvious this man hadn’t even used most of his strength with you, and you knew if he did, it would not go in your favor. What could you do now as he carried you to the bed, sealing your fate?
He was at your bed, placing you, surprisingly gently, atop it. This gentle-ness betrayed his intention, one large hand taking your wrists within it. Panicked at the feeling of such strength over you, it was instinct to try and kick him, but he shifted himself to weigh down your leg with his own. It was not a comfortable position, but it likely suited his cause since you couldn’t seem to free yourself as you writhed, looking for any chance to escape this madness. You were quickly accepting there likely would be no chance.
Only the sounds of wood snapping in the fire filled the air, and Jack leaned down until his face was just inches from yours.
“I’m going to try...and make this as easy as possible,” he stated, almost too calmly for your liking. It was now you could really see his features. How worn he looked, the scars that decorated his expression. This man had likely been through hell, and you figured this...this power struggle, this strength, this sort of depraved act, was nothing new to him.
With a very smooth motion, he placed two of his fingers in his mouth, running them over his tongue before he placed the now slick digits between your legs. You really wanted to fight, your blood boiling with a newfound anger. But still, you knew you could do nothing, and now his hand went under the damned flimsy robe you’d been forced to wear. After just a moment, your eyes refusing to look at his expression that was trained on you, you could feel his fingers slide into you. This made you flinch, but it didn’t hurt as he leisurely moved his hands and fingers against your form.
“I just...don’t want this to hurt you,” he grit, closing his eyes as his fingers moved. He didn’t seem to want to look at you anymore, and you didn’t really have the courage to look at him, anyway. No, now, your head was back against the bed, eyes looking up at the decorated canopy. No, this didn’t feel bad, that was the unfortunate part, but you still didn’t want what was to come after. His fingers pressed into you, and at times, he’d use his whole hand to move, while others, just the fingers. No matter, it did feel good, smooth, and teasing, making you tense against him as he pinned you. The panic almost seemed to seep away into the sheets of the bed, but it was still hiding within you, waiting.
Did he notice? Did he judge you for this obvious enjoyment? These thoughts were but flickers of light in the darkness of everything, and you did not focus on them very much, too focused on taking in his treatment of you.
Oh, how you wanted to fight. How your instincts told you to. But, now, as his fingers kept their method, you felt so pathetic. How you’d begged him not to do this, but now, your body didn’t want him to stop as you were tensing. You didn’t want him to stop this, at least. Unfortunately, after he felt he had prepared you enough, he slid his fingers out of you. For just a moment, he looked them over, and they were obviously wet with your pleasure. This was enough for him, and he shifted just so that his form was between your legs. With a very quick one-handed motion, his belt was off, and he held it in the air for just a moment as if he had intentions for it. Then, he tossed it to the side, his free hand now working at his pants. You couldn’t see too well in the dim light, but you didn’t really want to, tilting your head back and closing your eyes, simply waiting.
Maybe it wouldn’t be bad. No. Even if he had scars, even if he seemed weathered, this man was not bad looking. Maybe this was just the remnants of the work of his fingers in your head. Maybe you were just losing it, given you’d been captive for so long. It didn’t matter to you, you just wanted this over with, and when his hand freed itself of your wrists to spread your thighs further, you didn’t fight him. Truthfully, you were exhausted, not just physically but mentally as well, and if this was what needed to happen to get them to leave you alone, so be it.
Now, his hips moved, and you could feel the tightness of your own body as he slid himself into you, a slow and drawn out movement that made you gasp. You could understand what he meant by making you ‘prepared’ as he felt gifted by the way of things. Once fully inside, your body hit with an odd sensation of tightness, one that might have been pleasure but also of nervousness, he let his body rest over yours, his arms on either side of your head and his breathing ragged in your ear.
“I’m not going to stop, but if I’m hurting you...tell me,” he insisted, and then he gave no time for an answer as he began to thrust, slow and very steady movements. Your arms, by instinct, when to his own, hands on his biceps as if grasping for some clutch of sanity. His head was by yours, the deep gasps and breaths he took audible. He was focused on this, focused on you, and while you certainly did not want this – to be a part of whatever madness these people intended – you knew there was no use in fighting him. Not now, not this far in – he had already violated you beyond what you’d ever expected in this dim place.
The movements were a bit rough, but nothing you couldn’t handle. You wouldn’t risk asking him to be gentle, as if being rough would make him work quicker, so be it. Now, your nails dug into his biceps with force you didn’t even intend as your legs went back, giving him a better angle. If he could finish quickly, that’d benefit you. But, for now, he took his time, the movements almost in a perfect rhythm, his hips rocking against you with a firm cadence. When your head again went back, resting on the soft sheets of your bed, he decided to bury his face into your neck, warm breath against sensitive skin making you want to squirm underneath him. As you clawed at him, you could feel the strength within them, his muscles firm under your delicate hands. How you had a thousand questions for who this man was, and how any of this had happened. But, for this very moment, you simply focused on what you were feeling, which was him.
Now, tightening himself around your body, he quickened, his movements a bit more uneven. He wasn’t wasting time, which made you grateful for just an instant. The bed gave very little noise, the fire now dimming as it choked on the last bits of usable wood, and Jack’s ragged breaths were increasing in volume. One of his arms went behind your shoulders, pulling you to him, while the other held himself up just slightly, so that his weight was not on you. Now, the movements were rough, a bit painful, but you said absolutely nothing, only waiting with a vice grip on his arms and a tense disposure as he let out a very deep breath, his movements becoming uneven and then slowing as he released himself into you. You had been so cold, not even realizing it, that when he released, you could feel the warmth inside of you, which made you...uncomfortable, to say the least.
He did not sit there, waiting until he had the energy to move proper. No, he pulled back, quickly adjusting himself and his pants to be normal before he stood by the side of the bed, looking down at you with a very unreadable expression. You had lifted up onto your side, looking down at the white sheets of the bed with the realization of everything hitting you. This had been some depraved breeding program, and you were subject number one. Now, what? You wait? You wait and see if it worked? What if it didn’t? Would this happen again? Would they send someone else, if they thought Jack were the problem? Would they kill you? It was a thousand questions that suddenly overwhelmed your mind and fragile body, which simply wanted to rest after all that had happened.
Jack had left the side of the bed, and you noticed now as you heard the loud clunk of more wood being tossed into the fire. You still did not make any eye contact with him, your legs a bit tired, and the area between them slick with a few different things. What now? A bath sounded nice, but so did just resting. You’d been on high alert for the entirety of the evening, as if you really could escape whatever the hell this had been. What a fool you had been, and still were. Did Jack look at you as weak? Did that matter, really? Did you care?
Jack was lifting you, which made you make a very small gasp from the suddenness of it. Why was he doing this? But, you didn’t fight – he likely wouldn’t be able to do anything again, and even if he did, you weren’t going to stop him. He picked you up with one arm, as if you weighed nothing, then took the blanket from the bed, tossing it over his shoulder as he carried you over to one of the antique armchairs that hid in the corner of the room nearest the fire place. He sat in this chair, then immediately settled you onto his lap as he unfurled the blanket to be over both of you. Now, you felt more confused than you had the entirety of your stay, but why question it? What could you say? You didn’t want to talk to him. You didn’t want to say things and sound further like an idiot. Talking had done nothing for you.
“Don’t hate me. It’s just what had to be done,” he sighed, wrapping both of his arms around you. You were shivering, quite aggressively, and had not even noticed. He seemed to be looking into the fire, as if he didn’t want to look at you. “You’ll be fine, while I’m here. I won’t let them do anything to you. Alright?”
You didn’t respond to this. Why did he care? You hadn’t met him before this time, and even now, you’d just been some tool for whatever his gain was. Disregarding this wave of emotions, a heavy fatigue settled within you. Was it that drink they had given you? Or just the state of things? Uncaring of why, you simply decided to give in to your feelings of exhaustion, laying your head against the crook of his neck. How disgusting you felt, and how wrong it felt to be lying on him, but now was not the time for regrets or hesitations.
Maybe this would’ve been the time to ask about him, but you didn’t really have the energy in you, your body already getting the light feeling of sleep within it. Now, you blinked, as if you could stay awake, as if you needed to, but it wasn’t long before sleep found its way, a fervor of thoughts about Jack and your situation melding in your mind as you did so. What tomorrow would hold, or the next few weeks, you didn’t know – but you simply couldn’t be bothered to care as you faded into sleep.