Fic: Vae Victis
Title: Vae Victis (Woe to the Conquered)
Author: MustInvestigate
Disclaimer: I only own action figures
Rating: NC-17
Warning: dub/non-con
Pairing: Fallout New Vegas, Benny/Praetorian
Summary: Advanced interrogation methods meets advanced sheer awesomeness; neither emerges victorious.
(This is the kinkmeme’s fault.)
Caesar examined the platinum chip. “Solid, for such a small thing. Not a speck of tarnish. What is its purpose?”
Benny shrugged, or tried to. The guards’ hands on his shoulders were heavy. “To attract Lady Luck. She likes shiny things.”
Caesar nodded.
One of the guards wrenched Benny’s arm behind his back, stopping just short of dislocating the shoulder. He kept his cool, biting back a pained curse.
“A gift for your worshipfulness? We can call it a gift. I’m a generous fella.”
Caesar sighed, and it sounded like real weariness, not interrogation theatrics. Benny swallowed, hard. “Question The Prisoner” was a game he knew how to win, or at least drag out until the competition kicked over the board and went home. A sociopathic despot who felt entitled to fast answers, on the other hand…
Caesar gestured to the pile of belongings from his travel pack, including his suit (much snazzier than the stolen leather armor currently letting a draft up his thighs), personal 9mm, several spent Stealth Boys, a mixed handful of keys, chips and caps, and a packet of Vault-Tec brand prophylactics. “Am I to believe one of these items reveals why you would so clumsily attempt to penetrate that cursed bunker beneath my fort?”
“I heard it’s got the Mojave’s last living dry cleaner?” Benny chanced.
The guards expertly popped his shoulder out of joint, then back in place. They let him go as he gasped at the sudden shocks of pain so that he staggered and fell, catching himself on his wrenched arm and causing a third wave of agony.
He almost admired their efficiency. It showed a crude but undeniable class.
“On your feet before Caesar, worm!” the guard smirked, hauling him upright again by the same arm. Fortunately, the abused limb had finally thrown in the towel and gone numb. Benny made sure to wince so they’d keep on it and leave unmolested the parts of him that could still tingle.
“I do not wish to waste any more time on Strip trash,” Caesar began, then broke off to rub his eyes, really digging the heels of his palms into the sockets like he held a mean grudge against the power of sight.
His guards exchanged tense glances. Benny decided, for once, to hold his tongue and let the scene play out without his input. So the self-styled son of Mars was showing a few mortal cracks? Interesting.
“I will deal with you in the morning,” Caesar declared abruptly. “Praetorians? Look after our guest.”
The guards gathered round for a group loom as Caesar heaved himself off the throne and all but fell through the tent flap. The biggest (and product of the shallowest gene pool, if Benny was any judge) sneered.
“Take off that uniform. You disgrace it with the touch of your barbarian skin.”
“You’re just jealous I got the best legs in camp,” Benny replied and didn’t resist as they tore the light armour from his body. It stank like old blood and Brahmin dung, and it would be damn good to get back in his real clothes. Though from the significant glances and nudges working their way through the crowd, it didn’t look likely that would be next on the agenda.
“On your knees, maggot. We will teach you to respect your betters.”
Crap. He was right. He hated it when he was right.
Benny threw back his shoulders (immediately regretting the defiant gesture, but holding his posture like one arm wasn’t only loosely connected to the rest of him). “Yeah, tell yourselves this is all part of the interrogation. But we all know you’ve been eyeing me up like a debutante in a prison shower since I got hauled in here.”
Big’n’ugly backhanded him, but he kept on his feet.
“Everyone knows the Legion’s the place to be for the lavender shade of gentleman,” Benny continued, tasting blood around a suddenly loose tooth. “And I got no quarrel with your kind - you twinkletoes keep Gomorrah in the black and fill the Aces lounge every night. Tommy T. gets the nicest fan letters.”
“Praetorians do not enjoy musical theatre!” Big’n’ugly snapped.
Someone cleared his throat.
“Not even you, Lucius.” He raised a ballistic fist and flexed his fingers, making the servos whir. “You. Knees. Now.”
“Yeah, everyone wants a piece of the Ben-man,” Benny sighed theatrically. “My mother always warned me I had too much animal magnetism for my own good.”
“Now, barbarian!” One of the guards kicked the back of his knee, and he dropped with a grunt.
“I’m sorry, did I say my mother? I meant yours, last night, when I was balls-deep in her ass.”
There was an audible whoosh as every guard in the tent sucked in a shocked breath. Benny was surprised the tent didn’t implode from the force. The servo-assisted hand in his hair, ripping crescents of skin from his scalp, that was less surprising.
“Another word from you, savage, and I’ll tear out your tongue,” Big’n’ugly snarled. “You may write your answers to Caesar.”
“You’ll have to teach me to read, first,” Benny shot back. “But I draw a nice pic - ”
Big’n’ugly lifted his fetching leather skirt and shut Benny up mid-word, inspiring a ragged cheer from the other guards.
Benny tried to look on the positive side. The man’s cock didn’t live up to the promise of his bullish muscles, so no danger of choking, or even chapping his lips from over-stretching. That was good, right?
Still, it was a taste he hoped to never experience twice, and he wished that his mouth was free so he could point out that, from what little he’d picked up from House, the real Romans made an effort to bathe more than once in a lifetime. Actually, he wished his mouth was free for a lot of damn reasons, but if he could get the bastard off down his throat he’d be saving himself a hell of a lot of trouble at the other end.
He’d always been told he had a talented tongue, after all. Well, he’d never gotten any complaints. Not that many were likely to criticise a big tipper, but…
Ah, hell. He knew what felt good, at least. He screwed his eyes shut and went to work.
Midway through an awkward approximation of his favourite Gomorrah girl’s trick with the alternating suck and swirl, Big’n’ugly tightened his fist and started slamming into Benny’s mouth like he had a chance of reaching his throat. The ballistic fist’s gears caught in his hair, jerking him off rhythm, and he reflexively bit down.
Big’n’ugly yanked his head back, roaring curses. “If I feel your teeth again, I’ll shatter every one of them!”
“Yeah, but I’ll still have bitten off that joke of a dick,” Benny coughed. “You need to think these threats through, buddy. You’re looking like an ass in front of the troops.”
He scrambled to the side, avoiding a vicious kick to the family jewels. “Is this your first trip to the rodeo, cowboy? Take my advice: let the bull to the hard work, and you just try to hang on.”
He rolled underneath another kick and came up fast, grabbing the man’s hips and trying to latch on. The irony of his efforts wasn’t lost on him as he struggled against the grip in his hair now keeping his wet mouth inches away from the man’s foul penis, and he found himself regretting he wouldn't likely live to recount the tale to Swank. Swank always saw the funny side of life.
He’d hit a nerve about troop morale, though. Big’n’ugly looked from his own bobbing penis to the other guards, who all suddenly found the tent’s ceiling or their own nails enormously fascinating.
He flung Benny to the tent’s carpet and demanded, “Turn around.”
“I was joking about the biting,” Benny said quickly. “I’d never do that to another guy. Really.”
Big’n’ugly spat in his hand and stroked his flagging dick back to full hardness.
Benny made a face. “Saliva, are you kidding me? And you Legionnaires pretend to be so civilised! I’ve got a whole pack of lubricated condoms over there. There’s enough party favors for everyone!”
Big’n’ugly took hold of his chin and squeezed until Benny’s face felt like a zit about to pop. “Grab your ankles, or I’ll amputate and cauterise everything not absolutely necessary to giving Caesar his answers.”
Benny immediately complied. “Well, normally I’d hold out for dinner and dancing first, but you really know how to sweep a guy off his feet.”
The guards’ cheer was less enthusiastic this time, but more than loud enough to drown out Benny’s undignified squeak. He hoped. That thing might have looked like a pinky, but it felt like a goddamn brick up the canal. Big’n’ugly grunted roughly in his ear and reached around to give Benny’s tightly contracted balls a hard squeeze.
“You outta smart talk now, you soft city boy?” he snarled.
The other guards laughed and punched each other, relieved that order had been restored.
“Pillow talk?” Benny gasped, between thrusts. “You got some romance in your soul after all, buddy? Well, ring-a-ding-ding, I’m touched.”
Benny dredged up a smile for the audience, then dug deeper and managed a wink.
The laughter trailed away.
Big’n’ugly pushed his face into the carpet and called his mother a dog and a whore. The other guards threw in a few half-hearted insults, and one kicked some sand in his face, but the spirit wasn’t in them. Their leader pushed on heroically, thrusting for another minute before yanking himself out to drop a weak dribble of come over Benny’s back.
Benny let him catch his breath before piping up. “Gee, reminds me of my last trip to the free clinic. Only the booster needle was bigger, and it lasted longer!”
He didn’t even try to avoid Big’n’ugly’s kick this time, letting it knock him on his back and not coincidentally wiping the disgusting smear off on the rug.
“So which of you boys is up next, huh? I’m sure you won’t have any trouble improving on that pathetic display.”
Big’n’ugly raised his fist, then looked at it like it belonged to someone else and shambled out of the tent. The remaining guards avoided each other’s eyes.
“The mongrels need feeding or they will begin to bark.”
“My armour is filthy and must be cleaned before I shame Caesar with my appearance.”
“I must rest before my shift on watch.”
“No one has raked the arena today? I will attend to it at once.”
“I…uh…I am sure an insolent slave needs beaten.”
The guard who drew the short straw stayed with Benny just long enough to watch him get dressed without tucking away any weapons or means of escape, and shackled his hands and feet quickly.
Benny settled in on the pallet they’d left him, careful not to jolt his sore ass or arm, and sensibly decided to tell Caesar everything he’d ever known over breakfast.
This entry was originally posted at http://mustinvestigate.dreamwidth.org/18732.html. Please comment there using OpenID.
Author: MustInvestigate
Disclaimer: I only own action figures
Rating: NC-17
Warning: dub/non-con
Pairing: Fallout New Vegas, Benny/Praetorian
Summary: Advanced interrogation methods meets advanced sheer awesomeness; neither emerges victorious.
(This is the kinkmeme’s fault.)
Caesar examined the platinum chip. “Solid, for such a small thing. Not a speck of tarnish. What is its purpose?”
Benny shrugged, or tried to. The guards’ hands on his shoulders were heavy. “To attract Lady Luck. She likes shiny things.”
Caesar nodded.
One of the guards wrenched Benny’s arm behind his back, stopping just short of dislocating the shoulder. He kept his cool, biting back a pained curse.
“A gift for your worshipfulness? We can call it a gift. I’m a generous fella.”
Caesar sighed, and it sounded like real weariness, not interrogation theatrics. Benny swallowed, hard. “Question The Prisoner” was a game he knew how to win, or at least drag out until the competition kicked over the board and went home. A sociopathic despot who felt entitled to fast answers, on the other hand…
Caesar gestured to the pile of belongings from his travel pack, including his suit (much snazzier than the stolen leather armor currently letting a draft up his thighs), personal 9mm, several spent Stealth Boys, a mixed handful of keys, chips and caps, and a packet of Vault-Tec brand prophylactics. “Am I to believe one of these items reveals why you would so clumsily attempt to penetrate that cursed bunker beneath my fort?”
“I heard it’s got the Mojave’s last living dry cleaner?” Benny chanced.
The guards expertly popped his shoulder out of joint, then back in place. They let him go as he gasped at the sudden shocks of pain so that he staggered and fell, catching himself on his wrenched arm and causing a third wave of agony.
He almost admired their efficiency. It showed a crude but undeniable class.
“On your feet before Caesar, worm!” the guard smirked, hauling him upright again by the same arm. Fortunately, the abused limb had finally thrown in the towel and gone numb. Benny made sure to wince so they’d keep on it and leave unmolested the parts of him that could still tingle.
“I do not wish to waste any more time on Strip trash,” Caesar began, then broke off to rub his eyes, really digging the heels of his palms into the sockets like he held a mean grudge against the power of sight.
His guards exchanged tense glances. Benny decided, for once, to hold his tongue and let the scene play out without his input. So the self-styled son of Mars was showing a few mortal cracks? Interesting.
“I will deal with you in the morning,” Caesar declared abruptly. “Praetorians? Look after our guest.”
The guards gathered round for a group loom as Caesar heaved himself off the throne and all but fell through the tent flap. The biggest (and product of the shallowest gene pool, if Benny was any judge) sneered.
“Take off that uniform. You disgrace it with the touch of your barbarian skin.”
“You’re just jealous I got the best legs in camp,” Benny replied and didn’t resist as they tore the light armour from his body. It stank like old blood and Brahmin dung, and it would be damn good to get back in his real clothes. Though from the significant glances and nudges working their way through the crowd, it didn’t look likely that would be next on the agenda.
“On your knees, maggot. We will teach you to respect your betters.”
Crap. He was right. He hated it when he was right.
Benny threw back his shoulders (immediately regretting the defiant gesture, but holding his posture like one arm wasn’t only loosely connected to the rest of him). “Yeah, tell yourselves this is all part of the interrogation. But we all know you’ve been eyeing me up like a debutante in a prison shower since I got hauled in here.”
Big’n’ugly backhanded him, but he kept on his feet.
“Everyone knows the Legion’s the place to be for the lavender shade of gentleman,” Benny continued, tasting blood around a suddenly loose tooth. “And I got no quarrel with your kind - you twinkletoes keep Gomorrah in the black and fill the Aces lounge every night. Tommy T. gets the nicest fan letters.”
“Praetorians do not enjoy musical theatre!” Big’n’ugly snapped.
Someone cleared his throat.
“Not even you, Lucius.” He raised a ballistic fist and flexed his fingers, making the servos whir. “You. Knees. Now.”
“Yeah, everyone wants a piece of the Ben-man,” Benny sighed theatrically. “My mother always warned me I had too much animal magnetism for my own good.”
“Now, barbarian!” One of the guards kicked the back of his knee, and he dropped with a grunt.
“I’m sorry, did I say my mother? I meant yours, last night, when I was balls-deep in her ass.”
There was an audible whoosh as every guard in the tent sucked in a shocked breath. Benny was surprised the tent didn’t implode from the force. The servo-assisted hand in his hair, ripping crescents of skin from his scalp, that was less surprising.
“Another word from you, savage, and I’ll tear out your tongue,” Big’n’ugly snarled. “You may write your answers to Caesar.”
“You’ll have to teach me to read, first,” Benny shot back. “But I draw a nice pic - ”
Big’n’ugly lifted his fetching leather skirt and shut Benny up mid-word, inspiring a ragged cheer from the other guards.
Benny tried to look on the positive side. The man’s cock didn’t live up to the promise of his bullish muscles, so no danger of choking, or even chapping his lips from over-stretching. That was good, right?
Still, it was a taste he hoped to never experience twice, and he wished that his mouth was free so he could point out that, from what little he’d picked up from House, the real Romans made an effort to bathe more than once in a lifetime. Actually, he wished his mouth was free for a lot of damn reasons, but if he could get the bastard off down his throat he’d be saving himself a hell of a lot of trouble at the other end.
He’d always been told he had a talented tongue, after all. Well, he’d never gotten any complaints. Not that many were likely to criticise a big tipper, but…
Ah, hell. He knew what felt good, at least. He screwed his eyes shut and went to work.
Midway through an awkward approximation of his favourite Gomorrah girl’s trick with the alternating suck and swirl, Big’n’ugly tightened his fist and started slamming into Benny’s mouth like he had a chance of reaching his throat. The ballistic fist’s gears caught in his hair, jerking him off rhythm, and he reflexively bit down.
Big’n’ugly yanked his head back, roaring curses. “If I feel your teeth again, I’ll shatter every one of them!”
“Yeah, but I’ll still have bitten off that joke of a dick,” Benny coughed. “You need to think these threats through, buddy. You’re looking like an ass in front of the troops.”
He scrambled to the side, avoiding a vicious kick to the family jewels. “Is this your first trip to the rodeo, cowboy? Take my advice: let the bull to the hard work, and you just try to hang on.”
He rolled underneath another kick and came up fast, grabbing the man’s hips and trying to latch on. The irony of his efforts wasn’t lost on him as he struggled against the grip in his hair now keeping his wet mouth inches away from the man’s foul penis, and he found himself regretting he wouldn't likely live to recount the tale to Swank. Swank always saw the funny side of life.
He’d hit a nerve about troop morale, though. Big’n’ugly looked from his own bobbing penis to the other guards, who all suddenly found the tent’s ceiling or their own nails enormously fascinating.
He flung Benny to the tent’s carpet and demanded, “Turn around.”
“I was joking about the biting,” Benny said quickly. “I’d never do that to another guy. Really.”
Big’n’ugly spat in his hand and stroked his flagging dick back to full hardness.
Benny made a face. “Saliva, are you kidding me? And you Legionnaires pretend to be so civilised! I’ve got a whole pack of lubricated condoms over there. There’s enough party favors for everyone!”
Big’n’ugly took hold of his chin and squeezed until Benny’s face felt like a zit about to pop. “Grab your ankles, or I’ll amputate and cauterise everything not absolutely necessary to giving Caesar his answers.”
Benny immediately complied. “Well, normally I’d hold out for dinner and dancing first, but you really know how to sweep a guy off his feet.”
The guards’ cheer was less enthusiastic this time, but more than loud enough to drown out Benny’s undignified squeak. He hoped. That thing might have looked like a pinky, but it felt like a goddamn brick up the canal. Big’n’ugly grunted roughly in his ear and reached around to give Benny’s tightly contracted balls a hard squeeze.
“You outta smart talk now, you soft city boy?” he snarled.
The other guards laughed and punched each other, relieved that order had been restored.
“Pillow talk?” Benny gasped, between thrusts. “You got some romance in your soul after all, buddy? Well, ring-a-ding-ding, I’m touched.”
Benny dredged up a smile for the audience, then dug deeper and managed a wink.
The laughter trailed away.
Big’n’ugly pushed his face into the carpet and called his mother a dog and a whore. The other guards threw in a few half-hearted insults, and one kicked some sand in his face, but the spirit wasn’t in them. Their leader pushed on heroically, thrusting for another minute before yanking himself out to drop a weak dribble of come over Benny’s back.
Benny let him catch his breath before piping up. “Gee, reminds me of my last trip to the free clinic. Only the booster needle was bigger, and it lasted longer!”
He didn’t even try to avoid Big’n’ugly’s kick this time, letting it knock him on his back and not coincidentally wiping the disgusting smear off on the rug.
“So which of you boys is up next, huh? I’m sure you won’t have any trouble improving on that pathetic display.”
Big’n’ugly raised his fist, then looked at it like it belonged to someone else and shambled out of the tent. The remaining guards avoided each other’s eyes.
“The mongrels need feeding or they will begin to bark.”
“My armour is filthy and must be cleaned before I shame Caesar with my appearance.”
“I must rest before my shift on watch.”
“No one has raked the arena today? I will attend to it at once.”
“I…uh…I am sure an insolent slave needs beaten.”
The guard who drew the short straw stayed with Benny just long enough to watch him get dressed without tucking away any weapons or means of escape, and shackled his hands and feet quickly.
Benny settled in on the pallet they’d left him, careful not to jolt his sore ass or arm, and sensibly decided to tell Caesar everything he’d ever known over breakfast.
This entry was originally posted at http://mustinvestigate.dreamwidth.org/18732.html. Please comment there using OpenID.