AO2: "We're never working with Clyde again."
Clyde's hand came up to adjust the angle of the camcorder, and for a half second the view was nothing but a dark, obscured blur. On the other side of the screen Elliot Salem had been out for the better part of an hour, slumped lifelessly in the chair while the other mercenary went carefully about the business of tying his hands and feet. He wasn't missing anything.
One of the first things to learn about the man was that he was a heavy partier, their little Elliot; when he wasn't deployed on a mission he hit the booze and the recreational drugs like they were a mission all of their own. It hadn't been a problem to set Clyde up with the necessary pharmaceuticals to keep him under for the trip out to their location, but it had turned out that he didn't even need to use them. By the time he showed up to their target's apartment he was already passed out cold on the couch- dead to the world. On the phone, Clyde had sneered that they might not even be able to wake him up in time for the real party. It was almost beginning to look like his prediction would come true.
The view cleared up a second later. The adjusted angle gave a much tighter, closer shot of the table and chair Clyde had set up in the center of the dilapidated storage unit. The lighting wasn't the most artistic - nothing but a mechanic's beacon hung from a hook in the ceiling - but given the circumstances they'd simply have to make do. Clyde was pacing the cramped bin now, for split seconds moving into the frame as he came close to the table, and then back out to the periphery, beyond the camera's view. With Salem's hands bound up in front of him and his ankles stuck to the chair legs just as nice and secure as an entire roll of duct tape would allow there was no fear of him going anywhere, and it was clear that he was beginning to get impatient.
Just as his hand was reaching for his cell phone to call in the go-ahead, a fumbling click heralded the sound feed being switched on. Slow, scuffed footsteps preceeded the hotheaded mercenary as he stepped full into the picture, leaning over Salem's chair with a charming smirk to slap the young man's cheek fast and repeatedly until it earned him a dazed groan. "Wakey wakey, sunshine. Time to get up and play."
"...Rios? TYCE!" Astute soldier that he was it didn't take the boy long to snap into reality, and even less time to react- the instinctive call for his partner tinged with a perfect note of desperation. If Clyde had had any lesser reflexes the headbutt Salem threw would've certainly clipped him full across the bridge of his nose; as it was he just managed to pull his face back by inches. His fist colliding with the young man's jaw in retort sounded loud even through the microphone interference, and when Elliot finally shook his head enough to raise it again there was a thin trickle of blood running down from his lip.
"He-ey... relax..." This time when Clyde reached for a fistful of the other's hair there was considerably less resistance, just a weak attempt to crane his neck out of the way. The shaken, bewildered expression on his bloodied face as the mercenary turned his head for the camera was sweet enough for the phone call to be forgotten- whether Clyde had jumped the gun on his order or no.
"Shit you're a jumpy little fuck. I'm not gonna hurtcha, right bro?" Harsh as the light cast by the halogen bulb over the two men was, it still managed to make Clyde's bowie knife glitter as he pulled it out of his jacket.
"Clyde... what the fuck man. What the fuck is this?" Salem's gaze was caught equally between the camera and the blade, darting from one to the other with wide eyes. To his credit, he didn't let that expression show nearly as much in his voice- the slight edge in it increasingly blown over to anger, far from the initial note of shock.
A wide, dramatic shrug swept the knife through the air inches from Salem's face, but again he didn't flinch. Unrelenting, and quickly settling into a smug, comfortable grin, the other mercenary blithely drawled, "Aw, hell... just a little fun. Come on Salem..." He chanced another lean into the seated man's face to press his thumb against his mouth, smearing blood. "You think I wouldn't find out about you, huh? You n' Rios, right faggot?"
For a second time, the look of shock - of utter, profound, terrified disbelief - on the young man's face was more than enough to get the blood boiling. One could only imagine the thoughts running through the boy's head: perhaps wondering who'd given away his secret as the full impact that he was being filmed sunk in right before his eyes. The color draining slowly from his face was exquisite- just like in his younger days, the erection it brought on was instant and raging hard. Clyde's enjoyment was just as plain to see, sticking out painfully against the leg of his jeans, and the way Elliot's eyes bulged in his head combined with his instinctive effort to move back could only have meant he'd noticed it too.
"Yeah... that's just what I thought." Clyde was grinning fully now, secure in the knowledge that he had the other at his whim. "Look, all I want is a little fun, yeah? You n' me, we're gonna have a little party, and you're not gonna say shit about it. Not to anybody. You make it good for me, and I won't even tell nobody else."
The way Salem grit his teeth and swallowed was perceptible, even through the grainy image and the poor lighting, and when at last he managed to work out a reply the all the former confidence and bluster had drained away. Still, he stuck out his jaw, shook his head, and spat at the man in front of him- blood spattering Clyde's chin in a wide spray. "F-fuck you. Fuck you asshole."
"Ngh." A few moments of silence passed while Clyde wiped his chin with the back of his hand- slowly and deliberately scrubbing any trace of it away as the other looked on. "Hah. Hahahaha haaahahaha...." Low laughter from the mohawked soldier, scarcely loud enough to register on the camcorder's mic, was the only sound to eventually break the tense silence.
"Oh, you wanna play it the hard way we can do that too." At this Clyde began to move, abandoning his leaning seat on the table to circle behind the chair the other was bound to and chuckling again at his futile attempts to twist around to face him. "Yeah.. oh I'd love to do this the hard way." For Salem, there was no avoiding the elbow that slammed into the back of his head; nor could he stifle the cry of pain it drove out of him.
"You want it like this, you little fuck?!" Clyde stopped short of another blow, instead leaning down to shout next to the other's ear. "Yeah, how 'bout you just keep on acting like a stuck up little bitch, and I beat your ass, and then fuck your ass, and then carve my fucking name in you for a million loyal internet fans? It'll be Christmas for everybody!"
If nothing else could, it was obvious that this finally caught Salem's attention. In a second he sat straight back up in his chair shaking his head and choking on his own words, "N-no! Fuck!! No! Okay, okay, I- I- ..Just don't- J-jesus Clyde, I'll do wh-whatever the.. fuck you want.. just don't fucking.. don't..." The sound of Clyde's laughter cut off anything more Salem had to say, though his lips mouthed unheard syllables to the video feed.
Stroking his chin as if in consideration, the mercenary circled lesiurely around to the front of the chair once more, and finally gave a noncomittal shrug and a nod. "Yeah, like I told ya... you just show me a good time and we can forget all about it, right?" His hands were already on his belt buckle, barely a glance paid to the dull nod the bound man gave in return.
"I hear queers like you are the best at sucking cock." Clyde's hard-on was glistening when he finally managed to pull it free of his jeans, where a small wet mark had already soaked through the denim. But if he expected a reply he gave no time for Salem to give one.
He licked his lips and grabbed a fistful of the other's hair, hard enough to knock the chair onto it's front legs. And though Salem let out an indignant yell in protest, he held him there - balanced precariously - while he shoved the full length of his cock into his open mouth. If he'd intended to test drive Salem for skill initially, Clyde quickly abandoned the idea in favor of fucking his mouth while the other man did his best to keep his footing. The front legs of the chair jarred and scraped the floor as Elliot fought for balance against the shallow, rapid thrusts that brought tears to his eyes and quickly coated his chin with spit and precum, forcing spurts of fluid out of his mouth and onto the floor. Unable to move, his only recourse was to clutch at Clyde's jacket, hanging on for the brief minutes it took the man's stamina to give out. Despite the treatment, he kept his jaw held steadily open and his lips wrapped over his teeth, only groaning in complaint when Clyde's erratic thrusts fell short of their mark and jabbed his cheeks or the chair slipped too far forward. The last few pumps between the soldier's lips were slow - drawn out for the camera - as Clyde buried his cock to the hilt and held Salem's head still to pour his long-built-up orgasm deep into his throat.
Though his head was held back for a few seconds to let him cough and gasp, Clyde did not relinquish his grip on the other's hair. Instead, he turned his head once more to face the camera, providing a full view of the smeared mess of blood, cum and saliva painting the young man's cheek and chin. "Lookit that. I'll be .. god damned if it's not true. Homos really are better at sucking dick." Clyde's breathless praise came in loud and clear over the microphone, startling after the relative silence of the minutes before.
"...Fuck you." Elliot's curse was quiet, but it registered as well. He shook his head and spit on the ground, head bowed, but managed the defiant response all the same.
"Aw, yeah?" A sharp yank on the mercenary's long hair got him to raise his head once more so that Clyde could sneer in his face. "Didn't like that, huh? I thought you faggots were supposed to get off on that shit. Come on Salem... this is supposed to be a good time. A party, right? Don't tell me you're the sole fag in existence that doesn't like sucking cock?"
When Elliot's only response was a glare, he cocked his head and gave another shrug. "Okay then. Fine. You're the sole faggot in existence that doesn't like sucking cock. I still bet you suck Rios' dick like it's candy, yeah? I bet you treat him real fucking sweet, huh Salem. Maybe it'd help if you just think of him... or hell you know what? I could give it a shot. Do what he does. Would that make you nicer?" Clyde was getting hard again, swelling up steadily as the proposition hit him, and as he reached down to squeeze Salem's crotch - trying to gauge his reaction - the soldier's veneer cracked once more and he thrashed in his chair.
"FUCK YOU!" Salem brought his arms up in a shove that knocked the other man back into the table. "Fuck YOU Clyde! You're fucking INSANE you son of a bitch! You're not Rios, don't you fucking pretend like you could ever b-!" For the second time, the soldier's words were cut off by Clyde's laughter.
"Haaa haa oh fuck me in the ass and call me Sally. You really would like that. You're rockin' a nice little semi there, aren'tcha Salem? All that talk about your boyfriend get you all hot all of a sudden?" As the other man opened his mouth to protest again, Clyde cut him off with a firm wrench on his hair that dragged the chair a full inch forward across the cement floor and turned whatever he'd been about to say into an agonized cry.
"Well don't you worry, I'll show you I can be just as nice as Tyson. How about this? You blow me like you blow him, and we can call it an evening."
"...Bull.. bullshit." Hushed and disbelieving, the response was again spoken toward the floor- this time with hunched shoulders and a steady back and forth shake of his head that was everything that Elliot could do to hide the little flicker of hope in his voice. For all his effort, it wasn't quite enough. The other man's smile oozed into something vaguely friendly, and his grip on his captive's hair loosened enough to let him cascade a few of the long locks through his fingers.
"I mean it. You're a nice little peice of ass for a fag, you know that Salem? Not like those lisping fucking queers that you see on the tv all fucking... home design and those tiny peice of shit rat dogs they carry in bags and put dresses on and name shit like Princess. ...I've been watching you a long time. You just give me what I want, and everyone goes home happy. No one's gotta know."
"You seriously..." For long moments neither man moved. Salem with his head half bowed and eyes shut, and Clyde still unwilling to let go of his hair- watching the other intently. When finally Salem spoke again, although it came out too quiet for the camera to pick up, the sentiment was more than clear; leaning forward slowly, he parted his lips and wrapped them firmly around the stiffening head of Clyde's cock.
"That's right.. there you go..." As the smirking mercenary made to pull Salem's head forward by the hair again, he reached up and caught the man's shaft between his palms, elliciting a surprised groan and making him reconsider. "Oh shit, that's- Ngh!"
In the overhead glare of the mechanic's beacon, the movement of Salem's tongue against the flesh in his mouth was starkly outlined in light and shadow- every slow, deliberate circle captured flawlessly as it pressed against his cheeks, and punctuated by Clyde's increasingly pleased groans. His eyelids slipped slowly shut with every inch of Clyde's cock that he pulled into his throat, until his lashes fluttered to rest and his lips were brushing the tops of his knuckles. And then, Elliot began to bob his head, palms moving suddenly in the opposite direction. He wasn't opening his eyes for anything now, not even when Clyde reached down between biting his knuckles to flick open the button on his jeans and begin stripping off his boxers. He didn't even seem surprised when his head was pulled away, and the other man's throbbing erection removed from his lips. Clyde was shoving him over to lean against the table, resting on his elbows, and he just kept them squeezed shut- his teeth clamped down on a corner of his lower lip for what he knew was coming.
Clyde, out of necessity, wasn't an idiot. He kept ahold of Salem's hair, and he kept ahold of his knife. He'd done it the entire time, just as they'd discussed, just like the plan was supposed to go down. But then Clyde did something they hadn't planned- he let go of the other man's hair. Salem's lashes fluttered open in surprise; just as the tip of the other man's cock was pressing slowly into his ass, he slid an arm around his waist and caught his own cock in a rough grip.
"See? You're playing nice now." He paused to move his face next to the other's neck. "You'll see, Salem. I can be real nice."
With that, Clyde was plunging into the body beneath him insistently. No pause for the other to move or protest, the hand on Elliot's cock as fast and pointed as the short, hard, angled strokes into the soldier's belly. Elliot was grabbing for the edge of the table in minutes, trying to bite into his arm to keep from moaning like a whore. It did nothing to stop him from bending nearly in half and pressing back just as hard and fast into Clyde's thrusts, though, and there was nothing in the world he could do to stop his dick from weeping precum over the other man's fist and dripping it onto the floor. For all of Clyde's insanity and threats and kidnapping, he was still pounding Salem into the table hard enough to make his breath catch in his throat and his fists clench and go white as he fought to keep his head and not come right then and there.
"Pl- Stop! Fuck Clyde, please! Stop!" Salem's voice was thick with pleasure, and even as he found the will to beg the other man to let him go he was gasping and groaning between the words. He turned his head into the table, away from the camera, and dug his teeth into his hand as his cock started to twitch. All of it, every little movement, the slick jerking of Clyde's hand over his length and the wet slap of his hips against Salem's ass all captured sharp and clear by the camcorder perched on its tripod in the corner of the storage unit.
He watched the young solider's back begin to arch; watched his desperate fight to keep Clyde from fucking him to orgasm as it made his legs shake and left him crying and pleading for him to stop in a voice that sounded too much like begging for more. He watched those words turn to moans despite all Elliot's efforts to the contrary, as Clyde plunged into him relentlessly- his cock driven home just as fast and deep as it could hit. He watched when finally, inevitably, Salem couldn't hold out any longer, and the mercenary milked his cock until he couldn't cum any more- drawing it out specifically for his viewing pleasure. Clyde was probably already counting the bonus money.
And then, just like they planned, he watched as Clyde reached into his jacket for the pre-soaked chloroform towel, shook off the plastic bag, and held it over Salem's nose and mouth. He'd wake up in the morning wih a sore ass and a bad headache, and no one would be the wiser.
He wiped off his laptop screen and shut off the webcam. It had been a long night, and tomorrow it was going to be business as usual.
* * *
God damn this took way longer than it should have.