If I had it My Way I'd Slit Your Throat with the Knife You Left in My Back(15/?)
Title: If I had it My Way I'd Slit Your Throat with the Knife You Left in My Back(15/?)
Author: blackstar147
Rating: R
Pairing: Tom Sykes/ Ian Watkins + Sykecest
POV: 3rd
Summary:"Now he had to figure out how to speak."
Warnings: Non con. sex, kidnap (I suppose), lots of violence and umm... under age sex.
Disclaimer: NO, just no *shakes head* I do not own any of these boys, the only thing I own is the storyline =] googled yourself? Yeah well it's your own fault then isn't it... Title belongs to Bring Me The Horizon
Dedicatins: Everyone <3
Author Notes: Yes this is a new chapter! Hopefully will keep coming as as of Wednesday I will have finished for summer, so I should be able to fit it in around a job. Fair enough if people don't want to read this anymore cause I know I'm shit at updating... but if you do... enjoy! Let me know what you think so I can find out if people still want to read this and if I should continue! Thanks!
When he woke up, Oli just knew that Tom, who was his first thought, wasn't going to be there.
He also knew that he was in pain, a lot of pain, and there was so much fucking blood.
He wouldn't have normally been bothered by that, but the fact that he couldn't move very well, the fact that his head spun, the fact that he felt like he was floating, grabbed his attention, snatching it away from the most important thing to Oli, Tom.
He wondered idly if he should call an ambulance, but discarded the idea. So Oliver, how did you get your injuries? Well, Doctor, the old ones are where I was raped by my little brother's boyfriend and his mates, and the new ones are from my dad when he found my little brother making out with me with his hands down my trousers.
Yep, that sounded like it would work.
All he needed now was for Ian to turn up, just to make his day, to finally finish him off, because if Oli was honest with himself, which wasn't likely, he was trying really hard not to cry.
His head, apart from the obvious spinning, and pain from injuries, was tearing itself apart, trying to catch up with the events that had taken place, because shit, did his dad really just kick the shit out of him?
Did his family, did Tom, really just leave him here to bleed to death?
More importantly, was Tom ok? And why the fuck had his little brother suddenly come on to him?
Yes it was something he'd dreamt of for ages, and not just in a sexual way, and then it had happened, and a) he had tried to stop it, and b) they had been caught by his parents.
Oli also couldn't help but feel slightly annoyed, his parents had automatically assumed the whole situation was his fault.
Granted he had come home days earlier with blatant “rough sex” marks everywhere, he was the one who they had caught doing, ahem, things with and to older men, he was the one who they blamed in the first place for 'making' Tom gay (leading by a bad example apparently, not that they minded Tom being gay, he was after all, Tom), and he was after all Oli, but come on, Tom was the one on top of him, with his hands in his jeans no less, and Oli hadn't even been drinking, so how was this all his fault.
He was annoyed, but he knew that really he was thankful that his dad had beaten him up, he could have done it to Tom, although Oli would probably have killed him before he could even get close enough.
He now felt slightly delirious, he wanted to laugh and laugh and laugh so badly, but his body hurt, ached too much.
He wanted to float around the room, dance and sing.
He also seemed to keep losing track of his thoughts, they kept stopping and starting, as if he kept losing consciousness, oh...
Oli realised maybe it was time for an ambulance, it's not like he could move anywhere anyway, and he just knew his parents would never hurt Tom, ever.
He'd deal with that once he could move, a quick patch up and he'd be fine.
Slowly reaching an aching arm down, Oli carefully slipped his mobile from its place in his front pocket, cursing slightly as it got caught in the small pocket of his tight, skinny jeans.
Finally wiggling it free, after having to stop and remember just exactly what he was doing, Oli slowly dialled 999.
He wasn't sure he had even gotten the right number, but when a cheerful voice, too cheerful for this job crossed Oli's mind, asked which service he would like, Oli realised that maybe he wasn't such a retard after all and could remember the emergency services number.
Now he had to figure out how to speak.
The all too familiar taste of dried blood stuck to his throat, crowded his palette, and again Oli wanted to cry, his fucking nose, again!
The voice on the phone repeated itself, voice still oh-so-fucking-chipper, yes Oli was still pissed, and upset. In this condition was it really too much to ask for other people to be a bit less pissing happy? Obviously.
Finally, finally, Oli gathered enough spit, and he supposed blood, because it tasted like it, but that could have been just his throat, whatever, to speak.
“Mmlnce,” he managed, well it sounded like it anyway. And fucking knock him over with a feather because Mrs-I'm-so-happy-with-everything-even-though-I-work-here-on-minimum-wage seemed to actually understand what he said as next thing, and he may have blanked out for a second there, but only a second, he was listening to another voice talk.
Luckily this voice wasn't quite so happy, otherwise Oli would have been perfectly happy to just hang up and die, right there, like he was.
“What appears to be the problem?” the voice was asking, this time it was a man's voice, and if Oli hadn't been in the position he was he may have said it was sexy, and tried to chat it up.
Oli wasn't sure if it was from the twisting of the head movement he had just done, or by sheer will power, but his mouth now seemed to be full of blood, no he meant spit, definitely metal tasting spit, meaning, surprisingly, although he still sounded like he had a really bad cold, he could mumble quite coherently.
“I've, err.... been attacked?” he asked, unsure.
“Ok,” the sexy voice replied. “Where are you? Can you tell me your name, age and where you are please?... Hello Sir? Sir? Have you remained conscious throughout sir?”
Oli blinked awake, why wasn't the body that belonged to that sexy voice beside him? Oh yeah...
“Names Tom, no 'sit not, Oli. Yeah, Oli, Sykes you know. I'm at my parents' house. 17, I mean I am. 17 that is. Not too sure 'bout the conscious thing though, I don't reallys think that I ha... have one...” he trailed off, and as far as he was concerned he'd just given a proper description of everything that was asked, address, name, age, medical diagnosis, so he had no idea why the voice started to bother him again.
“Mr. Sykes? Mr. Sykes? Oli? Are you still there? Hello? Can you try to stay awake for me please? Hello?” Oli nearly giggled at being called Mr. Sykes, because that was just silly, if anything he would be Mrs. Sykes.
“'m here,” he murmured, the bed starting to move beneath him. “But think th... the world's try... tryin to tip me off, so's hurry, hurry.”
“Sir? I need the address of where you are sir. Sir? Sir?”
Oli slept on, ignoring the oh-so-sexy voice, he'd deal with that later when he felt a little better.
************
Author: blackstar147
Rating: R
Pairing: Tom Sykes/ Ian Watkins + Sykecest
POV: 3rd
Summary:"Now he had to figure out how to speak."
Warnings: Non con. sex, kidnap (I suppose), lots of violence and umm... under age sex.
Disclaimer: NO, just no *shakes head* I do not own any of these boys, the only thing I own is the storyline =] googled yourself? Yeah well it's your own fault then isn't it... Title belongs to Bring Me The Horizon
Dedicatins: Everyone <3
Author Notes: Yes this is a new chapter! Hopefully will keep coming as as of Wednesday I will have finished for summer, so I should be able to fit it in around a job. Fair enough if people don't want to read this anymore cause I know I'm shit at updating... but if you do... enjoy! Let me know what you think so I can find out if people still want to read this and if I should continue! Thanks!
When he woke up, Oli just knew that Tom, who was his first thought, wasn't going to be there.
He also knew that he was in pain, a lot of pain, and there was so much fucking blood.
He wouldn't have normally been bothered by that, but the fact that he couldn't move very well, the fact that his head spun, the fact that he felt like he was floating, grabbed his attention, snatching it away from the most important thing to Oli, Tom.
He wondered idly if he should call an ambulance, but discarded the idea. So Oliver, how did you get your injuries? Well, Doctor, the old ones are where I was raped by my little brother's boyfriend and his mates, and the new ones are from my dad when he found my little brother making out with me with his hands down my trousers.
Yep, that sounded like it would work.
All he needed now was for Ian to turn up, just to make his day, to finally finish him off, because if Oli was honest with himself, which wasn't likely, he was trying really hard not to cry.
His head, apart from the obvious spinning, and pain from injuries, was tearing itself apart, trying to catch up with the events that had taken place, because shit, did his dad really just kick the shit out of him?
Did his family, did Tom, really just leave him here to bleed to death?
More importantly, was Tom ok? And why the fuck had his little brother suddenly come on to him?
Yes it was something he'd dreamt of for ages, and not just in a sexual way, and then it had happened, and a) he had tried to stop it, and b) they had been caught by his parents.
Oli also couldn't help but feel slightly annoyed, his parents had automatically assumed the whole situation was his fault.
Granted he had come home days earlier with blatant “rough sex” marks everywhere, he was the one who they had caught doing, ahem, things with and to older men, he was the one who they blamed in the first place for 'making' Tom gay (leading by a bad example apparently, not that they minded Tom being gay, he was after all, Tom), and he was after all Oli, but come on, Tom was the one on top of him, with his hands in his jeans no less, and Oli hadn't even been drinking, so how was this all his fault.
He was annoyed, but he knew that really he was thankful that his dad had beaten him up, he could have done it to Tom, although Oli would probably have killed him before he could even get close enough.
He now felt slightly delirious, he wanted to laugh and laugh and laugh so badly, but his body hurt, ached too much.
He wanted to float around the room, dance and sing.
He also seemed to keep losing track of his thoughts, they kept stopping and starting, as if he kept losing consciousness, oh...
Oli realised maybe it was time for an ambulance, it's not like he could move anywhere anyway, and he just knew his parents would never hurt Tom, ever.
He'd deal with that once he could move, a quick patch up and he'd be fine.
Slowly reaching an aching arm down, Oli carefully slipped his mobile from its place in his front pocket, cursing slightly as it got caught in the small pocket of his tight, skinny jeans.
Finally wiggling it free, after having to stop and remember just exactly what he was doing, Oli slowly dialled 999.
He wasn't sure he had even gotten the right number, but when a cheerful voice, too cheerful for this job crossed Oli's mind, asked which service he would like, Oli realised that maybe he wasn't such a retard after all and could remember the emergency services number.
Now he had to figure out how to speak.
The all too familiar taste of dried blood stuck to his throat, crowded his palette, and again Oli wanted to cry, his fucking nose, again!
The voice on the phone repeated itself, voice still oh-so-fucking-chipper, yes Oli was still pissed, and upset. In this condition was it really too much to ask for other people to be a bit less pissing happy? Obviously.
Finally, finally, Oli gathered enough spit, and he supposed blood, because it tasted like it, but that could have been just his throat, whatever, to speak.
“Mmlnce,” he managed, well it sounded like it anyway. And fucking knock him over with a feather because Mrs-I'm-so-happy-with-everything-even-though-I-work-here-on-minimum-wage seemed to actually understand what he said as next thing, and he may have blanked out for a second there, but only a second, he was listening to another voice talk.
Luckily this voice wasn't quite so happy, otherwise Oli would have been perfectly happy to just hang up and die, right there, like he was.
“What appears to be the problem?” the voice was asking, this time it was a man's voice, and if Oli hadn't been in the position he was he may have said it was sexy, and tried to chat it up.
Oli wasn't sure if it was from the twisting of the head movement he had just done, or by sheer will power, but his mouth now seemed to be full of blood, no he meant spit, definitely metal tasting spit, meaning, surprisingly, although he still sounded like he had a really bad cold, he could mumble quite coherently.
“I've, err.... been attacked?” he asked, unsure.
“Ok,” the sexy voice replied. “Where are you? Can you tell me your name, age and where you are please?... Hello Sir? Sir? Have you remained conscious throughout sir?”
Oli blinked awake, why wasn't the body that belonged to that sexy voice beside him? Oh yeah...
“Names Tom, no 'sit not, Oli. Yeah, Oli, Sykes you know. I'm at my parents' house. 17, I mean I am. 17 that is. Not too sure 'bout the conscious thing though, I don't reallys think that I ha... have one...” he trailed off, and as far as he was concerned he'd just given a proper description of everything that was asked, address, name, age, medical diagnosis, so he had no idea why the voice started to bother him again.
“Mr. Sykes? Mr. Sykes? Oli? Are you still there? Hello? Can you try to stay awake for me please? Hello?” Oli nearly giggled at being called Mr. Sykes, because that was just silly, if anything he would be Mrs. Sykes.
“'m here,” he murmured, the bed starting to move beneath him. “But think th... the world's try... tryin to tip me off, so's hurry, hurry.”
“Sir? I need the address of where you are sir. Sir? Sir?”
Oli slept on, ignoring the oh-so-sexy voice, he'd deal with that later when he felt a little better.
************