itsirtou (itsirtou) wrote in bound_ewan,

Title: Catch a Break
Author: itsirtou
Rating: NC-17.  Seriously.  I'd go so far as to call it XXX if I didn't want to sound like an ad for bad porn.
Fandom: Shallow Grave
Pairings:  David/Alex, Cameron/Alex, Andy/Alex.
Warnings: Rape, violence, a bit o' bondage, Alex torture.
Archive: Ask first, please.

Sorry about this one.  I knew this was going to happen from the second I started watching Shallow Grave for the first time last night and Alex/Ewan wandered around half the time in his underwear.  This contains spoilers for most of the movie, and also a good bit of violence and Alex torture.

*   *   *   *   *

Alex can't fucking catch a break.

When he tells this to Juliet, she rolls her eyes and continues to eat her toast without a word -- with peanut butter, the freak -- until he irritates her into telling him why, to which she says, "'Because you're a dick," and goes back to her food.  But then, Juliet still won't let him fuck her, so he's not going to listen to what she says anyway.  David's no help either, especially since he's had to cut up Hugo or whatever the fuck that guy's name was.  Alex quite seriously believes that David is losing it, so when he asks David why he can't fucking catch a break and David shrugs moodily and doesn't answer, Alex figures that the answer would have been nonsensical anyway.  Alex still doesn't have an answer by the time of the charity ball or gala or whatever, so he just decides that Fate has it out for him and that's why he can't fucking catch a break, and she's finally repaying him with the suitcase full of money.

So now he's at some charity thing with Juliet, who is looking fucking fine, and David, who looks like he just cut someone into bits and has it on his conscience.  Turns out to be a charity for kids; Alex hates kids, so if he doesn't get fucking laid he's going to consider this night a total waste of his time.  Plus, Juliet had tried to get him to wear a kilt.  As if he'd wear something that made his ass easily accessible around a whole bunch of middle-aged balding guys who were probably desperate for some ass that wasn't their wife's. 

Then Juliet pulls him onto the dance floor and whirls him around until he falls on his admittedly fine ass -- he's already a little drunk, but he can hold his fucking alcohol, thank you, and it was Juliet who made him stumble -- and he almost can't breathe when she holds him down by the neck with her shoes.  It surprises even him that he doesn't try to look up her skirt -- he just grins up at her and feels the squeezing pressure of the rubber soles keeping him down, and when he finally gets up he notices with a bit of shock that he's half-hard. 

It bothers him a little, but it's easy to shrug off and say that he was just thinking about finally laying Juliet.

Then he goes back to the table and gets more drunk, fucking glad that David is driving home since he doesn't look inclined to drink anything and Alex is seriously thirsty tonight -- and he's sort of disturbed by the whole erection-on-the-dance-floor-from-being-held-down thing, and he reflects later that calling Cameron over to their table was not the wisest thing to do, even in his present state of mind.

When Cameron comes over to their table and says, "What?", Alex takes a deep drag on his cigarette, sucking his cheeks in, and then blows out and purses his lips, watching with a smirk as Cameron's eyes glue to his lips and his face flushes.

"Nothing," Alex says, laughing as Cameron's face gets ruddier.  "We thought you were someone else."

His good mood stays until he suddenly gets a hard-on from David going off on one of Juliet's pursuers, and he excuses himself to the toilet.  Later, he reflects that he probably should have seen Cameron following him.

"Bin-bag," he says, snickering to himself, and opens the door, a little unsteady on his feet after God knows how many drinks.  It's with a great deal of shock that he sees Cameron's stupid face waiting for him outside the door.  He looks seriously pissed, and Alex feels a little prick of fear when he sees the two quite nicely muscled guys waiting behind Cameron with their arms crossed.

"Cameron," he says, grinning to hopefully dispel any thoughts of kicking his ass, which he probably deserves by now, to be honest.  "What a surprise!"

It isn't, however, really a surprise whenever Cameron's fist comes flying at his face, cracking him right above the nose and sending him flying back into the cubicle.  His lower back hits the edge of the toilet and he bounces off the porcelain and onto his knees, slumping over, his back and head throbbing with every beat of his heart.

A hand fists in his hair and pulls his face up, and Cameron slams another fist into his mouth.  Alex would have fallen if Cameron's hand in his hair hadn't kept him upright on his knees, and he groans a little in pain as the throbbing in his head increases dramatically.  He can feel that his lip's split, and a little ribbon of blood drips down from one of the corners of his mouth.

His head is lifted again by the hair until he stares into Cameron's dull, stupid eyes.  The stall door, which Cameron had slammed closed, opens, and Alex can see Cameron's two stupid thugs standing at the doorway.  He shuts his eyes and realizes faintly that this night is probably going to mean a lot of pain.

"Thought I was someone else, did you?" Cameron sneers at him and knees him in the stomach; Alex's eyes go wide in pain and he tries to double over and clutch at his aching ribs, but Cameron's fucking fist in his hair won't let him move.

"Still think I've got no presence, Alex?" This sentence is accompanied by a ringing blow to the side of Alex's head that makes his vision spotty for a moment.  "No charisma, style, or charm?" 

Alex realizes just how pissed Cameron is about not getting the apartment and for just a moment regrets what he said, and shudders, thinking about maybe all the other people he's pissed off in the same way who would also like to take a piece out of his hide.  Especially that fucking Goth he interviewed, Jesus, she'll probably summon Satan to rip his heart out or something.

He realizes that Cameron's stopped talking and that the blows have stopped coming.  The hand lets go of his hair and he sways on his knees, nearly falling to the floor, only his dignity keeping him on his knees.  Well, his dignity and the fact that he really doesn't want to get kicked in the stomach.  He shuts his eyes briefly as the pain in his head gets to be too much.

He opens his eyes again and immediately wishes he hadn't, because his eyes are nearly crotch-level with Cameron and fuck fuck fuck, Cameron is hard and starting to undo his pants.

Alex panics and suddenly finds a little reserve of strength, bolting to his knees and pushing past Cameron, his breath coming unsteadily, and then he realizes after he's past Cameron that he forgot about the two fucking thugs.

They grab him by the arms and force him to his knees again just outside the little stall.  His breath is coming fast now, his hair is wild around his face, and all he can think is I can't fucking catch a break, I can't fucking catch a break, God somebody please come in and see this, find me, help me.

Cameron smirks down at him, having successfully undone his pants, and tosses one of the thugs his black belt, which the thug catches in one hand, keeping Alex down with the other.

"Tie his hands," Cameron says.

Alex goes a little wild when the man on his left brings his two hands together behind his back, thrashing around like someone's trying to kill him.  He opens his mouth to scream until Cameron walks forward calmly and shoves a handkerchief in his mouth.  He pats Alex's cheek and steps back, and Alex grudgingly reconsiders that Cameron turned out to have more presence than he had originally considered.

A ringing blow to the head stops his struggles enough for the man to wrap the belt around his wrists and secure them behind his back, and Alex sways on his knees, only one man's hand on his shoulder keeping him upright now.

Cameron walks forward again and fuck, he's pulling his dick out of his pants, and Alex shuts his eyes and hopes stupidly that if he doesn't open them maybe nothing's real.

A casual backhand slap to his face, and Cameron says, "Open your eyes, Alex."

Well, fuck, Cameron's still there and closing his eyes did jack shit, so he opens them again and looks up into Cameron's face, distorted and red with anger and lust.  Alex shudders, and Cameron smirks when he notices.

"I'm going to pull the handkerchief out of your mouth now, Alex," Cameron says softly, enunciating every word, "and then you're going to suck my dick."

Alex's eyes widen -- even though somehow he'd fucking knew it would come to this -- and he shakes his head violently, feeling a shiver of fear run down his spine.  He'd had pricks in his mouth before, but he'd been stupid and on drugs and also willing, which made a lot of difference, and it hadn't been like this, on his knees in a dirty bathroom, his hands tied behind his back, with a man who hated him waiting in front of him with his dick out of his pants.

"No," he says clearly -- sort of -- around the gag, and then chokes on his own spit.

Cameron's eyes narrow.  "I'm going to stick this in your mouth, and if you fucking bite it, my friends will fucking rip your dick off."  Alex shudders again, realizing that there's just enough anger in Cameron's voice to make that threat a very real one.  He squeezes his eyes shut again when Cameron reaches forward and pulls the silk out of his mouth.

Then he feels the heavy, hot weight of Cameron's cock resting on his lower lip and finally feels the first sting of tears behind his eyelids. 

"Open your mouth," Cameron says softly, dangerously, and now Alex's entire body is trembling and he can't stop, and he fucking doesn't want to give Cameron the satisfaction of knowing how scared he is but he still can't stop shaking.  Cameron's dick nudges at his closed teeth, smearing slick wetness over Alex's lips.

Stupidly, he opens his mouth to say "no" and then fuck, Cameron shoves it in and he's choking on it, trying to suppress his gag reflex with no success, and god, he's choking and they're laughing.

"Come on, pretty boy," Cameron says, laughing unpleasantly. "You've had to have more practice than this with your pretty mouth."  He strokes Alex's lower lip, stretched out around the middle of his cock, and moans.

Alex finally stops choking when Cameron doesn't seem inclined to shove his cock in any father, and now he's weighing whether to sit there and be unresponsive, or whether to use his lips and his tongue and get Cameron off sooner and then maybe he can go home and forget that this whole fucking thing ever happened.  He cautiously works his tongue around the head of Cameron's cock, and Cameron groans and shoves in a little more; Alex swallows around his cock to keep from choking and he's almost successful this time.

He hears the almost-silent rustling of clothes from either side of him and realizes sickly that the two thugs were probably jerking off, watching him tied up on his knees with a cock in his mouth, crying.  And fuck, yes, he realizes that he is crying, there are tears on his cheeks and more in his eyes and they're probably fucking enjoying it.

Then Alex realizes that he really wants to get this over with now.

He swallows as hard as he dares around Cameron's cock, spit ribboning down his chin, and Cameron lets out a surprised yelp and thrusts forward and fuck, it's in his fucking throat and he can't breathe, and all he can do is feel the tip of Cameron's prick nudging the back of his throat and hear his own fast, scared attempts to draw breath.

"Fuck," Cameron hisses above him.  "Fuck, that's it, swallow my prick, you little whore," and pulls out and shoves back in so deep that Alex's head is thrust backward and Cameron's prick hits the back of his throat so hard that he chokes again.

He tries to swallow and Cameron groans loudly, and then there's a hand fisting in his hair again, forcing his head forward and back, and Alex clenches his fists in his bonds when he realizes that Cameron is fucking his mouth.

He knows Cameron won't last long -- he can feel the thrusts get harder and more erratic, and the fist clenched in his hair is nearly pulling his hair out by the roots.

"Oh, Jesus -- Jesus fuck --"

And then Cameron is coming in his mouth, down his throat, and Alex chokes before remembering to swallow, whimpering helplessly despite himself as he feels the liquid running down the back of his throat.  Drops spill down his chin and onto the floor.

Finally Cameron shoves him back, laughing as Alex tumbles to the floor, unable to catch himself.  Alex lays there, stunned, hearing the labored breathing of Cameron as he recovers and the more desperate breaths of the two men standing above him.

The first stream of come catches him on the cheek and he freezes, tears spilling down his face at the indignity and the humiliation, and he tries to duck his face under his hair but they just laugh and don't pay attention, pulling his face back by his hair, and finally Alex lets out a long, agonized moan.

They drop him to the floor when they're done, and then two men tuck themselves back in their pants, talking softly to each other and laughing.  Alex lays on his side the floor, his hands still behind his back, curled into as small of a ball as he can make himself, praying for them to just leave

Cameron stops beside him and squats down.  He lifts Alex's head towards his, laughing, smearing the ribbons of come and blood all over Alex's face with one hand and wiping the hand in Alex's hair when he's done.

"That's what you deserved," he hisses and straightens, delivering one last vicious kick to Alex's ribs.

Alex halfheartedly tries to free his hands from the belt that Cameron had not taken off, but he gives up after only a few minutes of struggle and just lays on the floor, sort of just hoping that someone will come find him.  He rests his head on the dirty tile of the toilet floor and drifts off.

And that's how David finds him, a few minutes later, unconscious on the floor of the bathroom, curled into a ball, blood and tear tracks on his face.  David watches Alex for a long time, staring at the come in his open mouth, on his lips, on his face, in his hair -- he stares at Alex for a long time before finally untying Alex, hoisting him up and bringing him over to the sinks.

Alex comes awake as David is gently wiping his face with a wet paper towel, and there is a brief struggle as Alex emerges from unconsciousness not knowing in whose hands he is held, and he manages to land one good punch on David's shoulder before subsiding, sobbing into the front of David's tuxedo, David's arms wrapped around his body to keep him upright.

David finishes cleaning Alex up, and they both decide, by unspoken agreement, to pretend that Alex had not cried.

The next day, when Juliet answers the phone and Alex asks who it is, she tells him that no one said anything.  He's sure that David told her nothing, but she's been shooting him concerned looks ever since the ball the night before, and he's eager to reassure her that nothing had happened.

"Rendered speechless with desire," he says, his voice raspy, able to put his natural sarcasm in his tone but unable to summon up even the most caustic of smiles.  "I recall that feeling, from the days when I had such a thing."

Juliet looks at him, her eyes confused, and he realizes that he probably fucked up and said way too much.  Again.  When she suggests they go spend some money, he agrees, because if he'd said that he wanted to stay home and forget about the way someone had raped his mouth the day before, she'd probably get more concerned, and he really doesn't want to worry her.  So they go out and buy toys and a video camera, and Alex puts on women's makeup and a dress, and by the time they're lying in front of the television laughing, he almost forgets what happened.

*    *    *    *    *    *

Alex still can't fucking catch a break.

It's been a few days since the night of the charity dance.  David has been getting nuttier, Juliet still won't let him fuck her, and Alex has almost forgotten the way Cameron's cock felt as it forced its way down his throat.  He and Juliet are at the table, a plate of bread between them, eating in complete silence, when the doorbell rings.  They look at each other.

"Expecting anyone?"

"No," Juliet says.

"Oh."  He put a piece of bread in his mouth, and Juliet frowns.

"Aren't you going to answer it?"

He shrugs, glad his sense of humor has resumed its normal place in his life.  "Well, I'm not expecting anyone either."

Juliet glares at him, and fuck, she's almost gotten as uptight lately as David, who has completely snapped and now spends all his time in the loft.  With their fucking money, too.  Sighing, Alex heaves himself out of the chair and goes to the door.  He messes with the new security chains for a bit before finally figuring them out, and opens the door a little.

He's knocked back when the door is kicked in and two men enter the apartment; he's too stunned to shout out to Juliet any sort of warning at all, and then suddenly he's shoved into the living room and slammed up against the wall, his mouth mashed against the paint, and a cord ties his hands together behind his back.

And fuck fuck fuck -- he knows where he is, but suddenly all he can remember is being on his knees in the toilet, struggling to free his hands from behind his back, mouth open and violated.  He struggles wildly, hearing another struggle behind him that must be Juliet being incapacitated, but fuck if he can even pretend to be concerned right now for anyone but him.  He's almost glad when the man forces a plastic bag over his head, because at least that means he's not going to use his mouth.

Even through his panic he knows what the men want -- God, what else could they want -- and he knows just where the money is, but David's up there too in the loft, and right now he doesn't know if he can reveal where David is without some serious coercion.  He knows that David never told anyone about that night at the ball, and Alex may be a mean little shit but he knows when he's in debt to someone.

His legs are tripped up suddenly and he falls on his ass, his back to the wall, and then there's a fiery pain running up his leg and he realizes that the man had slammed a crowbar against it; he yells out in pain and dissolves into little whimpers, screams again when his other leg is hit similarly.

"Tim!" the man in front of him yells, presumably to his partner with Juliet.  "Try to get where the money is out of the little bitch.  I'll work on pretty-boy here."

There's an affirming grunt from the other side of the room and then Juliet squeals in pain, but Alex is too busy being really fucking scared by the implications of that 'pretty-boy' to be concerned for her at all. 

The man leans down in front of Alex, curled up on his side in pain, his legs throbbing so badly that he wonders if the thug didn't fucking break his shins with the crowbar.

"You don't want me to hurt you, do you?"  he whispers, stroking Alex's mouth through the plastic bag.  Alex shakes his head, his eyes wide, seriously freaking out despite himself, his chest heaving as he tries to take in racing breaths.  The bag is making him feel dangerously lightheaded, and it's a relief when the man pushes it over his mouth long enough to draw in a few breaths.  "Then tell me where the money is, pretty-lips, and I won't have to hurt you."

"I don't know," Alex gasps desperately.  He'll hold out as long as he can for David, but he's fucking scared and he hopes that if he gives it up David will understand.  "I fucking swear I don't know."

The man shakes his head sadly, but there's a dangerous little light in his eyes.  Alex hears a despairing whimper from Juliet across the room and feels a little pang of fear at what this man is going to do.  He hears Juliet echoing him, whispering, "I don't know, I don't know."  He stares at the man in front of him, pleading with his eyes.

Then suddenly there's a hand around his throat, hauling him up until he's standing and pressed flat against the wall.  The man has one hand on his throat and another pressed against the flat of his back in a perversion of support.  The hand holding his throat loosens its grip and the fingers start to stroke his neck gently, testing the texture of the skin there, pressing for a moment against his neck to feel his pulse.  Alex stares at the man with huge eyes, breaths coming so fast that he wonders if he's going to pass out from hyperventilation.  All he can think is not again, not again, not again, the words spinning around in his mind until he's ready to scream.

"Just tell me where the money is," the man whispers, his mouth centimeters away from Alex's ear; even through the plastic covering his head, he can feel the man's hot breaths puffing against his neck and the press of the man's body against his.  "I know that you know where it is."  His hand drifts down from Alex's neck until it's resting on Alex's chest, which is heaving with his breaths.  The man smirks unpleasantly.  "Come on, baby.  Just tell me and I won't hurt you."

"Please," Alex whispers.  "I don't know what you're talking about, please --"

Suddenly the man jams two fingers inside Alex's mouth and he chokes, spit running down his chin, and inside his mind he's screaming in fear, so panicked that he can't even breathe now.  He whimpers embarrassingly and the man grins and withdraws his fingers, slick with Alex's spit.  His other hand slips down to Alex's jeans, undoing the belt and the button, not bothering to unzip the fly.  He untucks Alex's shirt and slips a hand underneath, touching Alex's shuddering stomach gently, while the hand that had been in Alex's mouth steals down his back.

"Don't," he gasps, even before the man's fingers slip beneath the back of his jeans.  "Please --"

"Tell me where it is," the man whispers, and Alex turns his head away, because fuck if he's going to give up David, and he knows that the men will kill David without a second thought once they discover where he and the money is.  And Alex knows that he's probably going to be the one who reveals where David is -- even though Juliet is a girl, she's more of a hardass than Alex can ever pretend to be -- but fuck if he's going to say where David is without a fight.

But it's hard to remember these convictions because the man's hand is beneath his jeans, and Alex is staring into the eyes of a cold-blooded killer as the man smirks and shoves two fingers, half-slick with drying spit, into Alex, hard.

Alex half-screams and falls forward onto the man, feeling him shake with laughter at Alex's pain and fear.  The man withdraws his fingers and then shoves them forward again, and it feels like half the skin on his insides has been ripped off, and he knows he's babbling -- "in the loft in the loft oh please don't please please please --" and he feels a second of shame for letting David down, but then the man withdraws his fingers and wipes them off casually on Alex's jeans, leaning forward to whisper, "It's too bad you told me -- you feel like you'd be a tight fuck," and Alex can't find it in himself to regret what he's said.

The man steps away and motions to his partner, and Alex crumples to the floor, bowing his head to his chest, only looking up when he hears the tumble of two bodies come down the ladder.

David, who must have heard everything, unties Juliet first, and when he comes to cut the rope off Alex's hands, he doesn't look Alex in the eye.  Alex bites his lip so hard it bleeds.

*    *    *    *    *    *

Alex figures it's about time for him to fucking catch a break, but he's almost given up by now.

It's been a while since the two men broke in, and Alex spends most of his awake-time nearly hysterical.  There are holes everywhere in the ceiling, above his bed, in Juliet's room, in the bathroom, in the kitchen -- everywhere.  When he walks through the house he can hear thumps as David follows his progress.  The hole in his forehead from where David nearly drilled his head open has started to scab over, which is a relief because he was getting tired of reaching up and feeling sticky blood on his skin.  He feels slightly guilty about moving the money, but he's scared and tired and David's acting like a fucking psychopath and Juliet's more uptight then a fifty-year-old virgin nun, so in retrospect he doesn't really feel that guilty.

Juliet mentions to him one morning that she hears David watching her from the ceiling when she gets dressed in the morning.  Alex shrugs and continues eating his cereal -- in chocolate milk, which is the only good fucking way to eat cereal -- but inside he's sort of freaked out, and makes a note to listen for David whenever he's in his room.

But it's easy to forget -- easy for the thumps above his head to become habitual, normal, expected -- and that night when he lies in bed, lazily jerking on his cock, he barely notices them at all.

He lies on his side, curled around himself, and turns his face into the pillow to muffle his labored breathing, touching himself so lightly that it's the best kind of torture, and it's gotten easier these past few days to jerk off without imagining Cameron's sneering face or the intruder's cruel eyes.  His T-shirt is pushed up around his chest and his boxers are somewhere around his knees, and the lotion on his hand feels achingly good on his cock and the thumps above his head are barely noticeable.  He lets out a breathy moan into the pillow when a shocking jolt of pleasure runs up his spine, and he tightens his grip and twists his hand, moaning louder and hoping in the back of his mind he doesn't wake Juliet, but this is one of the best fucking jerk-offs he's had in a while.  He barely notices when the thumps above his head recede and then quiet altogether.

He does, however, notice when two hands grab each of his knees and pull him so that he's lying on his back, and then his hand is knocked away from his cock and David's mouth replaces it.

Alex throws his head back against the pillow and shoves his fist into his mouth to keep from screaming, looking down just to make sure it's real and seeing David's head bobbing in his lap, his big hands holding on to Alex's hips.  David looks up at him just at that moment, his eyes bright and wild and not covered by those stupid fucking glasses, and then David twists his tongue around the head of Alex's cock and Alex comes so hard and fast that he almost pulls a muscle, making the most embarrassing little half-whimper in the back of his throat.  He tugs on David's hair with one hand when the pressure on his sensitive cock gets too painful, and David slides up beside him, looking horribly confused.  Alex, who just had one of the best orgasms of his life, is still trying to remember how to breathe.

"Alex," David whispers, touching Alex's mouth gently.  Alex, who is feeling extremely generous at this moment and is completely prepared to reciprocate, touches the tip of David's finger with his tongue, and David jumps out of the bed suddenly and runs out of the room.

"Fucking freak," Alex sighs, forgetting all about the horrible day he's just had -- the stupid press event he'd had to attend in the woods and finding out that David and Juliet were apparently fucking and he hadn't known who to be jealous over.  He sinks into the pillow, not bothering to draw his boxers back up over his hips, and sleeps.  He thinks it's the first lucky break he's caught in a long time, but two days later, when fucking David shoves a knife through his shoulder into the kitchen floor and Juliet slams it in deeper once David is dead, Alex considers that maybe he was wrong.

He's amazed to find himself alive when the inspectors and policemen come.  He smiles slowly through the pain, feeling the weight of his hair soaked in his and David's blood, wondering just when Juliet will discover that the holdall isn't full of what she thought it was.

He smiles, thinking of what he's going to do with the money, and wonders just how Cameron and Juliet want to die.

It figures that it'd take being stuck through the shoulder with a knife for Alex to finally catch a fucking break.


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