New Fic: Elephant, 1/3
Feb. 16th, 2008 05:05 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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treasure_geeksTitle: Elephant
Author:![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
roxierocks
Pairing(s): Ian/Riley, Riley/Ben, Ben/Abigail
Rating: R
Warnings: Non-con (non explicit), swearing, lots of lovely angst, spoilers for National Treasure and very vaguely for Book of Secrets
Word Count: 12,434 in three parts (completed)
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters used in this story and I am not making any profit
Summary: Ian and Riley are playing a dangerous game, but Riley doesn't realise just how dangerous until it's too late...
Author:
roxierocksPairing(s): Ian/Riley, Riley/Ben, Ben/Abigail
Rating: R
Warnings: Non-con (non explicit), swearing, lots of lovely angst, spoilers for National Treasure and very vaguely for Book of Secrets
Word Count: 12,434 in three parts (completed)
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters used in this story and I am not making any profit
Summary: Ian and Riley are playing a dangerous game, but Riley doesn't realise just how dangerous until it's too late...
a/n: yes, it's the tired 'Ian rapes Riley' senario YET again. Hopefully I've done it some justice...
“This has got to die. This has got to stop.” –Elephant, Damien Rice.
He’s fine anyway. He’s absolutely fine. He just needs to get over it. This sort of thing happens all the time, he’s sure. It’s really not a big deal.
And it’s not like he hadn’t asked for it, really. He and Ian hadn’t exactly been making love up until that point, had they? It was just a little rougher than usual, that’s all. He was fine.
I said no, Ian!
And I said yes.
Riley hates it when Ben touches him. He knows that it’s unfair, that none of this is Ben’s fault, but he still shrinks from the casual touches; the slinging of an arm round his shoulders, a comforting squeeze when things aren’t going right -for a change.
He’ll never forget the day when Ben raised his arm for a high five and Riley flinched –actually flinched- at the action. He’ll never forget the shock and hurt in Ben’s eyes, or the way Ian had smirked knowingly at him over Ben’s shoulder.
Ian likes to corner him, likes to make Riley feel uncomfortable. He never tries anything again, mostly because Riley makes sure he never puts himself in a situation where it could be possible, but he knows how he makes Riley feel, and that’s enough.
The weeks turn into months and Riley begins to forget.
Some days it seems like a ridiculous nightmare, and he’s sure he must have made the whole thing up.
Ian is Ben’s friend. Ian makes bad English jokes and always buys the coffee because he’s the only one of them who has any money. He listens to Ben’s long and complicated historical stories when Riley just tends to switch off, and he even seems vaguely interested.
Ian isn’t a bad guy.
It gets so that Riley can close his eyes, really tightly, and not really remember what happened anyway. He no longer plays it over and over again into the night. He takes sleeping pills and doesn’t dream.
He must be deluded, even imagining Ian would do something like that. Things just got a bit out of hand, really. It was just a bit of rough sex. Riley couldn’t have said no. Ian would have stopped if he’d said no, he’s sure of it.
The details of that afternoon are so hazy now anyway. It doesn’t really seem to matter.
It’s over two months later when it happens again.
Riley is alone in the office, Ben and Ian out on some sort of expedition (he didn’t ask, he never does) and he has his iPod earphones firmly plugged in, tapping his foot to the rhythm of the music as he works.
He certainly doesn’t hear Ian enter the office, doesn’t even know he’s there until he feels the hand slide round his neck, the earphones yanked gently from his ears.
“Hello Riley,” Ian murmurs, and Riley feels himself freeze.
“Uh, hi Ian,” he manages to force out. The other man’s hand is hot and heavy on the pulse in his neck. His whole body is fraught with alarmed tension.
Ian’s fingers stroke, very slowly, over his pulse point.
The action brings back the memories of that evening, everything he has tried so very hard to block from his mind. He is back on the floor, Ian’s hand around his throat as he fucks him on the rough carpet, and oh God Ian had raped him, raped him in this very room and Riley has been working here every day for the past two months and pretending nothing happened.
“Get off me,” he says, and his voice sounds tiny and pathetic.
“Now now,” Ian murmurs. “Play nice.” His hand is still stroking Riley’s neck. Riley feels as if the touch is burning him. “We haven’t spent any quality time together for a while. I can’t help but notice you’re going out of your way to avoid me.”
“I see you all the time,” Riley chokes out.
“Not like this,” Ian insists. His hand slips round Riley’s neck, clasping his throat gently. “I’ve missed you, Riley.”
“Get the hell away from me,” he hisses.
Ian laughs.
“You can’t even push me away, can you? I know you want it, Riley. All you have to do is ask nicely.”
“I don’t,” Riley whispers. He wishes he didn’t sound so afraid.
“Of course you do. I’ve never done anything you haven’t wanted, have I?”
Yes, he tries to say, but he can’t seem to make his voice work.
“I know you want it,” Ian breathes, his mouth close to Riley’s ear, and the warmth of his breath makes Riley shudder in revulsion.
He twists from Ian’s loose grasp, slipping from his chair, and darting to the other side of the room.
“Stay away from me, Ian,” he warns, voice shaking.
“I won’t hurt you, Riley,” Ian says, taking several steps towards him. “I promise.”
“Shut up!” Riley cries. “Just leave me alone!”
Ian closes the distance between them, pressing Riley back against the wall, trapped.
“Haven’t you realised by now?” he asks darkly. “I always get what I want.”
The office door opens, and there’s a moment of suspended silence as Ben stands there, framed, before Ian suddenly moves away, putting a respectable space between them.
“What’s going on?” Ben asks warily, eyes darting between the two of them.
“Nothing,” Ian says smoothly with a little smile. “Riley and I were just trying to settle a little disagreement.”
Ben looks as if he doesn’t believe a word.
“Riley?”
“It’s fine,” Riley says, although the words come out pale and stilted. “I have to go home. I don’t feel so good.”
He pushes past Ben without getting his jacket, aware of Ian’s eyes on him as we walks away down the corridor, each step heavier than the last.
The door bell buzzes at eleven pm.
He’s lying on the couch in an old pair of sweats, watching Invasion of the Body Snatchers. He looks to the door but doesn’t get up to answer it.
It could be Ian.
He’s not safe here, he realises, with a sudden sickening jolt. Ian knows where he lives. Ian could easily find a way to get in here when Riley was sleeping. He could-
The buzzer goes again.
He gets up off the couch, approaches the door cautiously. He doesn’t open it, stands to the side and presses his back against the wall.
Please just go away, he thinks.
“Riley? Are you there? It’s me.”
The voice makes him jump. He freezes, pressing harder into the wall, before he realises that it’s Ben.
Ben. Not Ian.
Ben.
“Riley?”
He hesitates for several long seconds, then reaches for the catch, pulling the door open but leaving the chain on.
Ben’s face peers at him through the two inch gap, concerned.
“Riley, are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Ben.”
He says it automatically.
“Well, can I come in?”
Riley scans the hallway behind Ben’s head. It’s empty.
He nods, then pulls the door closed and slides the chain off. He doesn’t bother to open it again, but hears Ben come in as he makes his way back to the couch, where the movie is still playing.
He hears the door click shut. He can’t make himself look round.
Ben’s silent for a very long time. Riley pretends to watch the screen.
“What’s going on, Riley?” he asks finally.
“Nothing,” Riley says. There’s a tightness in his throat.
Ben comes to sit beside him. Riley still can’t look at him.
“What was that earlier?” he asks. “With Ian in the office? It looked pretty intense.”
“It was nothing,” Riley manages to choke out.
“Was he threatening you?”
Riley shakes his head.
“He was just being Ian. Everything’s fine.”
He feels Ben watching him. It makes him itch.
“It isn’t fine, though, is it?” Ben asks, so softly Riley almost doesn’t hear him. “Something hasn’t been fine for a while now. And I…I don’t know what to do for you.”
He sounds so defeated that Riley risks a glance at him.
He’s staring at the television screen without seeing it, and the shadows on his face seem haunted and pronounced.
“Sorry,” Riley says, because it seems like the right thing to do.
Ben’s gaze shoots to meet his, and Riley immediately looks away.
“Talk to me.”
Riley can’t talk. He can’t tell Ben what happened because then he’ll have to tell the rest of it; how they were sleeping together anyway and how Ian had made him come, even as he’d loathed himself for it, and now he was so fucking terrified of everything…
And then Ben would get that look in his eyes and everything Ian had said would come true. Riley would be nothing more than a cheap slut.
“Riley, please,” Ben says. “I know something happened. You can trust me.”
I can’t trust anyone, Riley thinks, but doesn’t say.
One of Ben’s hands covers his and squeezes, gently. Even that tiny bit of contact makes him feel uncomfortable. He pulls his hand away.
He hears Ben sigh, and bites his lip.
“Ben…” he begins awkwardly, trying to word an excuse in a way that Ben will accept.
He makes the mistake of looking up then, and the desperate concern, the worry in Ben’s eyes flaws him a little.
I want to tell you, he thinks sadly. I want you to make it right.
But part of him is terrified that Ben won’t believe him, and part of him is even more terrified that he will but will also know that Riley really deserved it.
“Ben,” he tries again.
Ian fucked me, is what he wants to say.
Instead what comes out is “I think I’ve found The Charlotte.”
Standing in the icy bowels of The Charlotte, Ian’s gun pointed steadily at him, Riley feels what’s left of his miserable existence fall apart.
“Didn’t you know, Ben?” Ian is saying. “Didn’t you know what a good fuck he is?”
Ben’s eyes are darting uncertainly between them.
Riley wishes Ian would just shoot him. At least then he wouldn’t have to endure this anymore.
“He’s very compliant,” Ian continues. Riley can hear the glee in his voice. It makes him sick. “He let me do whatever I wanted. He let me pin him down by the throat and fuck him on the floor.”
“That’s enough!” Ben snaps. His voice is loud in the dead interior of the ship.
“He couldn’t even breathe,” Ian hisses, venom in his tone. “He would have let me choke him to death.”
“I said that’s enough!”
Ian smiles, slow and dangerous.
Just let him kill me, Riley thinks. He can’t bear to look at Ben. Can’t bear to see the disgust.
“Riley?” Ben asks. There’s a note of desperation in his tone, as if he wants Riley to tell him it’s not true, that Ian’s making it up to bait him.
Riley says nothing.
“You son of a bitch,” Ben says, voice low, and it’s not clear who he’s talking to.
Ian’s infuriating smirk only grows wider. He knows he holds all the cards.
“Every time you look at him, every time you even think about touching him, you’ll remember me and you’ll always know that I got there first,” Ian says.
Riley’s head snaps up at the words, but Ben is staring fixedly at Ian and Riley can’t see his face.
“Son of a bitch,” Ben says again. “I’ll kill you.”
Ian cocks the gun in his hand. It echoes around the abandoned boat ominously.
“Careful Ben,” he says, tone mocking. “I’ll do it. You know I will.”
Ben shakes his head in a helpless sort of gesture.
“Don’t do this, Ian. We can work something out.”
“I’m past that stage,” Ian snaps impatiently. “I’ve sat around for three years and waited for you to find this fucking treasure. We’ve done things your way. And now I’m going to do them my way. If you’re not a help you’re a hindrance. I’m sorry, Ben.”
For a second an expression that looks suspiciously like remorse crosses Ian’s face, and his eyes settle on Riley’s pale face.
“I truly am.”
Then he pulls the trigger.
“This has got to die. This has got to stop.” –Elephant, Damien Rice.
Part One
Riley knows he shouldn’t want this.
It’s dirty and it’s fucked up, and if Ben ever found out he’d probably tear them both limb from limb.
It doesn’t stop him though.
It doesn’t stop him from going to Ian night after night.
He never says no. When Ian palms his cock through his jeans, muttering a stream of dirty words in his ear, Ben just around the corner, he never says no.
He’s addicted to Ian, to the feel of him, deep inside, to the hand that grips him with rough, almost painful strokes. To the physical hunger that Ian seems to have for him.
Riley’s not an idiot. He knows that Ian couldn’t care less about him really, but when it comes to sex Riley lets Ian dominate him. Lets Ian take him wherever he wants, however he wants. And he never says no.
Until the one day he does, and Ian takes what he wants anyway.
He’s hunched over his computer, set up at his desk in one of the temporary offices Ian has loaned for them until they can find The Charlotte. Riley never doubts that they will find her, namely because Ben never doubts it and Riley likes that unshakable sort of faith Ben has. Some days, however, make it easier to doubt than others.
He’s attempting to produce an extremely complicated programme that will, hopefully, use an animation of the approximate shifting temperatures in the Arctic Circle to determine a pattern in land masses, helping to indicate the last likely location of any ships out in the vastness of what’s there now.
He can’t get it right though, and he’s starting to get more than a little frustrated. It should be working and he knows it’s something to do with the input of the temperatures, but if he changes that then all the variables will shift and he’ll have to begun again from scratch.
He’s trying a data input for the fifth time when Ian comes in, the door slamming back into the wall with a crack that makes Riley jump.
He eyes Ian warily.
“Hey,” he begins. “Everything ok?”
“Haven’t you finished that fucking programme yet?” Ian snaps, ignoring Riley’s question. “I’m not spending thousands of dollars a day just so you can piss about on your laptop.”
Riley chooses not to mention that it doesn’t matter to him how much Ian is spending a day as he’s doing this for free and not getting a cent. Somehow he doesn’t think that will go down very well right now.
“And where the fuck’s Ben?”
“He’s gone to grab us some dinner. And these things take time. I can’t just magic up the location, you know. I’d like to see you attempt to do this.”
He regrets the words as soon as he’s said them, and oh why can’t he just learn to keep his mouth shut? Ian’s glare is murderous, and Riley shrinks a little from it, unintentionally.
“I would be very careful if I were you, Riley,” he says, and his voice is soft, dangerous. “It wouldn’t be too difficult to find someone with a little more talent to replace you.”
Riley forces his voice not to shake. Because he’s certainly not afraid of Ian or his cheap threats.
“No,” he says. “You know I’m the best. You need me. No one can hack a computer as fast as I can. You know that.”
Ian smiles but it isn’t pleasant.
“I wasn’t referring to your skills with computers.”
Riley feels an angry flush stain his cheeks. Ian leans a little closer. Riley has to force himself not to pull away.
“Though with a little more practice I’m sure you’ll prove yourself to be the whore I know you are.”
Riley’s hand seems to reach out of its own accord, making a flat, empty sound as it strikes Ian’s face. Ian barely flinches, and Riley stares at the red print in shock, partly of his actions and partly of Ian’s words.
He knows there’s no love lost between them, but Ian’s never been quite this cruel, quite this vicious before.
He’s never made Riley feel quite so ashamed.
There is a deathly silence in the office, and Ian regards him through cold eyes. Riley finds himself holding his breath.
“That was a mistake,” Ian says softly.
Riley swallows.
“Fuck you.”
Ian backhands him across the face, the force of the blow sending Riley out of his chair and onto the floor.
He lays there for a moment, stunned, then struggles to get up, the carpet rough on the palms of his hands.
Ian kicks him, once, in the side and he goes down again.
“You little shit,” Ian hisses, his hand in Riley’s hair, pulling his head up off the floor. “You do not talk to me like that.”
He punctuates the message by slamming Riley’s head forcefully onto the carpet with a muffled thump.
Ian slaps him, once, on the same side of the face he’d hit before.
Riley tries to glare up at him through the pain.
“You’re a fucking bastard,” he spits.
Ian smiles.
“And don’t you just love it.”
His hands are on Riley’s jeans, deftly undoing the button and zipper, pulling them half way down his thighs, before Riley fully realises what’s happening.
“Stop it,” he hisses, kicking a leg out to try and dislodge Ian’s hands, which are dragging his jeans past his knees now.
Ian ignores him, reaching for Riley’s underwear, and Riley feels a sudden twist of panic.
“Ian, stop fucking around. Ben’ll be back any minute.”
Ian stops, hands inside the band of Riley’s boxers.
There’s something in his expression Riley’s never seen before, and it sends shock of something suspiciously close to fear through him.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? For Ben to walk in here and see you like this. See what I do to you. See what he can’t give you.”
“Stop.” Riley’s voice is shaking.
“Don’t you want him to see what you really are? To see how much of a slut you can be?”
He can’t bear the taunting note in Ian’s voice.
“Shut up.”
“Don’t you want him to know the truth, Riley?”
“Shut up!”
He kicks out ineffectually, his legs still tangled in his jeans which are bunched round his ankles.
Ian’s fingers dip lower. The breath catches in Riley’s throat and he hates himself.
“Get off me.”
His voice is still shaking.
“But we’re just getting started,” Ian laughs.
“I said no, Ian!”
Ian’s whole demeanour suddenly changes. His hands grip Riley’s hips painfully. His eyes are like ice.
“And I said yes.”
He tries not to think about it, afterwards.
He tries not to think about Ian’s hand around his throat, cutting off his air supply so he couldn’t fight back. He tries not to think about how much it hurt as Ian pushed his way inside, just took what he wanted.
Most of all he tries not to think about the way his legs seemed to fall open of their own accord as Ian brought him to orgasm, touching Riley just the way he knew he liked it, the way he’d learned Riley’s body over the last few months.
He tries not to think about how his body liked it, even as his mind had begged for unconsciousness.
He tries not to think at all.
*
He’s still laying there, jeans and underwear hanging off one leg, when he hears Ben’s familiar footsteps outside the office.
He scrambles to pull his clothing back on, scrubbing furiously at the wetness in his eyes, hoping he looks at least semi presentable, and not like he’s just been beaten up and raped by someone he thought he trusted.
Ben pushes open the door, two paper bags of Chinese food balanced in his arms.
“Hey, sorry it took so long, there was a massive…”
His voice trails off as he looks over the top of the bags at Riley.
Riley immediately looks away. His computer screensaver is on, a pineapple with Chewbacca's dancing endlessly across a blue background.
“Riley, what happened?”
“Hmm?” Riley murmurs. Maybe if he pretends everything’s fine Ben will leave him alone.
“What happened to your face?”
Ben puts the bags down on the other desk and crosses the room in two long strides. Riley tries to back away but Ben holds his arm tightly, his other hand tilting Riley’s face towards him, examining the right side of his face where Ian hit him.
“Jesus, Riley. Did someone hit you?”
Riley shrugs out of his grasp.
“I’m fine, Ben. Just leave it.”
“You’re not fine.”
Ben reaches for him again, and Riley’s too slow to avoid him.
“Riley,” Ben says after a moment of scrutiny. His voice is too low. “You’ve got…your throat. Did…what the hell?”
Riley forces out a laugh, hands going instinctively to his neck where he knows he must have marks from Ian’s fingers. They’d pressed against his windpipe.
“Oh yeah, that. I’ve just been pulling at the neck of my t-shirt. You know what I’m like when I get frustrated. And the programme just won’t work. I’m going to have to start the entire thing again. It’s frustrating.”
He realises he said frustrating twice and stops talking.
Ben’s watching him carefully.
“But someone did hit you?”
Riley rolls his eyes. Even that tiny movement seems to make his head pound.
“No Ben, no one hit me. I left the cupboard door open and walked straight into it. And it fucking hurt.”
He worries the expletive was too much.
Ben doesn’t look convinced.
“I’ve been here all afternoon. The only person I’ve even seen is Ian. Go on, ask him. I’m just a klutz.”
Ben still doesn’t look completely convinced, but he’s nodding.
“Yeah, okay. You can be pretty clumsy.”
Riley sighs, hoping it comes across as melodramatic.
He feels as if he’s about to throw up.
“Great. Now we’ve established that I’ve not been beaten up or maimed, where’s the food? I’m starving.”
Ben laughs and turns to the bags. Riley immediately drops his smile. It feels as if it’s stretching his face.
“Okay,” Ben is saying. “I got chow mein and sweet and sour. Oh, and some pork mushu, because I know you love that.” As he talks he pulls the containers out onto the desk, wrestling with the lids.
He’s telling Riley just how long the queue at the take out was when the smell of the food hits.
There’s an unpleasant moment when he struggles against the rising nausea in his stomach, then he pushes past Ben and runs for the bathroom, dropping to his knees in front of the toilet and heaving until there’s nothing left inside.
He ignores Ben’s concerned voice from the other side of the door as he rests his forehead against the cool porcelain rim and wishes he was dead.
*
The days turn into weeks and they are still no closer to finding The Charlotte.
Riley forgets what happened, or at least does so until he’s lying awake in bed, plagued by bouts of insomnia, replaying that nightmare afternoon over and over in his tired mind.
He doesn’t go near Ian again.
Ben comments on the change in their relationship. It hasn’t escaped his notice that Riley goes out of his way not to be left alone with Ian. Riley laughs it off when Ben brings it up. He pretends not to feel the older man’s eyes on him, pretends not know that Ben watches him with concern.
He’s fine anyway. He’s absolutely fine. He just needs to get over it. This sort of thing happens all the time, he’s sure. It’s really not a big deal.
And it’s not like he hadn’t asked for it, really. He and Ian hadn’t exactly been making love up until that point, had they? It was just a little rougher than usual, that’s all. He was fine.
I said no, Ian!
And I said yes.
Riley hates it when Ben touches him. He knows that it’s unfair, that none of this is Ben’s fault, but he still shrinks from the casual touches; the slinging of an arm round his shoulders, a comforting squeeze when things aren’t going right -for a change.
He’ll never forget the day when Ben raised his arm for a high five and Riley flinched –actually flinched- at the action. He’ll never forget the shock and hurt in Ben’s eyes, or the way Ian had smirked knowingly at him over Ben’s shoulder.
Ian likes to corner him, likes to make Riley feel uncomfortable. He never tries anything again, mostly because Riley makes sure he never puts himself in a situation where it could be possible, but he knows how he makes Riley feel, and that’s enough.
*
The weeks turn into months and Riley begins to forget.
Some days it seems like a ridiculous nightmare, and he’s sure he must have made the whole thing up.
Ian is Ben’s friend. Ian makes bad English jokes and always buys the coffee because he’s the only one of them who has any money. He listens to Ben’s long and complicated historical stories when Riley just tends to switch off, and he even seems vaguely interested.
Ian isn’t a bad guy.
It gets so that Riley can close his eyes, really tightly, and not really remember what happened anyway. He no longer plays it over and over again into the night. He takes sleeping pills and doesn’t dream.
He must be deluded, even imagining Ian would do something like that. Things just got a bit out of hand, really. It was just a bit of rough sex. Riley couldn’t have said no. Ian would have stopped if he’d said no, he’s sure of it.
The details of that afternoon are so hazy now anyway. It doesn’t really seem to matter.
*
It’s over two months later when it happens again.
Riley is alone in the office, Ben and Ian out on some sort of expedition (he didn’t ask, he never does) and he has his iPod earphones firmly plugged in, tapping his foot to the rhythm of the music as he works.
He certainly doesn’t hear Ian enter the office, doesn’t even know he’s there until he feels the hand slide round his neck, the earphones yanked gently from his ears.
“Hello Riley,” Ian murmurs, and Riley feels himself freeze.
“Uh, hi Ian,” he manages to force out. The other man’s hand is hot and heavy on the pulse in his neck. His whole body is fraught with alarmed tension.
Ian’s fingers stroke, very slowly, over his pulse point.
The action brings back the memories of that evening, everything he has tried so very hard to block from his mind. He is back on the floor, Ian’s hand around his throat as he fucks him on the rough carpet, and oh God Ian had raped him, raped him in this very room and Riley has been working here every day for the past two months and pretending nothing happened.
“Get off me,” he says, and his voice sounds tiny and pathetic.
“Now now,” Ian murmurs. “Play nice.” His hand is still stroking Riley’s neck. Riley feels as if the touch is burning him. “We haven’t spent any quality time together for a while. I can’t help but notice you’re going out of your way to avoid me.”
“I see you all the time,” Riley chokes out.
“Not like this,” Ian insists. His hand slips round Riley’s neck, clasping his throat gently. “I’ve missed you, Riley.”
“Get the hell away from me,” he hisses.
Ian laughs.
“You can’t even push me away, can you? I know you want it, Riley. All you have to do is ask nicely.”
“I don’t,” Riley whispers. He wishes he didn’t sound so afraid.
“Of course you do. I’ve never done anything you haven’t wanted, have I?”
Yes, he tries to say, but he can’t seem to make his voice work.
“I know you want it,” Ian breathes, his mouth close to Riley’s ear, and the warmth of his breath makes Riley shudder in revulsion.
He twists from Ian’s loose grasp, slipping from his chair, and darting to the other side of the room.
“Stay away from me, Ian,” he warns, voice shaking.
“I won’t hurt you, Riley,” Ian says, taking several steps towards him. “I promise.”
“Shut up!” Riley cries. “Just leave me alone!”
Ian closes the distance between them, pressing Riley back against the wall, trapped.
“Haven’t you realised by now?” he asks darkly. “I always get what I want.”
The office door opens, and there’s a moment of suspended silence as Ben stands there, framed, before Ian suddenly moves away, putting a respectable space between them.
“What’s going on?” Ben asks warily, eyes darting between the two of them.
“Nothing,” Ian says smoothly with a little smile. “Riley and I were just trying to settle a little disagreement.”
Ben looks as if he doesn’t believe a word.
“Riley?”
“It’s fine,” Riley says, although the words come out pale and stilted. “I have to go home. I don’t feel so good.”
He pushes past Ben without getting his jacket, aware of Ian’s eyes on him as we walks away down the corridor, each step heavier than the last.
*
The door bell buzzes at eleven pm.
He’s lying on the couch in an old pair of sweats, watching Invasion of the Body Snatchers. He looks to the door but doesn’t get up to answer it.
It could be Ian.
He’s not safe here, he realises, with a sudden sickening jolt. Ian knows where he lives. Ian could easily find a way to get in here when Riley was sleeping. He could-
The buzzer goes again.
He gets up off the couch, approaches the door cautiously. He doesn’t open it, stands to the side and presses his back against the wall.
Please just go away, he thinks.
“Riley? Are you there? It’s me.”
The voice makes him jump. He freezes, pressing harder into the wall, before he realises that it’s Ben.
Ben. Not Ian.
Ben.
“Riley?”
He hesitates for several long seconds, then reaches for the catch, pulling the door open but leaving the chain on.
Ben’s face peers at him through the two inch gap, concerned.
“Riley, are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Ben.”
He says it automatically.
“Well, can I come in?”
Riley scans the hallway behind Ben’s head. It’s empty.
He nods, then pulls the door closed and slides the chain off. He doesn’t bother to open it again, but hears Ben come in as he makes his way back to the couch, where the movie is still playing.
He hears the door click shut. He can’t make himself look round.
Ben’s silent for a very long time. Riley pretends to watch the screen.
“What’s going on, Riley?” he asks finally.
“Nothing,” Riley says. There’s a tightness in his throat.
Ben comes to sit beside him. Riley still can’t look at him.
“What was that earlier?” he asks. “With Ian in the office? It looked pretty intense.”
“It was nothing,” Riley manages to choke out.
“Was he threatening you?”
Riley shakes his head.
“He was just being Ian. Everything’s fine.”
He feels Ben watching him. It makes him itch.
“It isn’t fine, though, is it?” Ben asks, so softly Riley almost doesn’t hear him. “Something hasn’t been fine for a while now. And I…I don’t know what to do for you.”
He sounds so defeated that Riley risks a glance at him.
He’s staring at the television screen without seeing it, and the shadows on his face seem haunted and pronounced.
“Sorry,” Riley says, because it seems like the right thing to do.
Ben’s gaze shoots to meet his, and Riley immediately looks away.
“Talk to me.”
Riley can’t talk. He can’t tell Ben what happened because then he’ll have to tell the rest of it; how they were sleeping together anyway and how Ian had made him come, even as he’d loathed himself for it, and now he was so fucking terrified of everything…
And then Ben would get that look in his eyes and everything Ian had said would come true. Riley would be nothing more than a cheap slut.
“Riley, please,” Ben says. “I know something happened. You can trust me.”
I can’t trust anyone, Riley thinks, but doesn’t say.
One of Ben’s hands covers his and squeezes, gently. Even that tiny bit of contact makes him feel uncomfortable. He pulls his hand away.
He hears Ben sigh, and bites his lip.
“Ben…” he begins awkwardly, trying to word an excuse in a way that Ben will accept.
He makes the mistake of looking up then, and the desperate concern, the worry in Ben’s eyes flaws him a little.
I want to tell you, he thinks sadly. I want you to make it right.
But part of him is terrified that Ben won’t believe him, and part of him is even more terrified that he will but will also know that Riley really deserved it.
“Ben,” he tries again.
Ian fucked me, is what he wants to say.
Instead what comes out is “I think I’ve found The Charlotte.”
*
Standing in the icy bowels of The Charlotte, Ian’s gun pointed steadily at him, Riley feels what’s left of his miserable existence fall apart.
“Didn’t you know, Ben?” Ian is saying. “Didn’t you know what a good fuck he is?”
Ben’s eyes are darting uncertainly between them.
Riley wishes Ian would just shoot him. At least then he wouldn’t have to endure this anymore.
“He’s very compliant,” Ian continues. Riley can hear the glee in his voice. It makes him sick. “He let me do whatever I wanted. He let me pin him down by the throat and fuck him on the floor.”
“That’s enough!” Ben snaps. His voice is loud in the dead interior of the ship.
“He couldn’t even breathe,” Ian hisses, venom in his tone. “He would have let me choke him to death.”
“I said that’s enough!”
Ian smiles, slow and dangerous.
Just let him kill me, Riley thinks. He can’t bear to look at Ben. Can’t bear to see the disgust.
“Riley?” Ben asks. There’s a note of desperation in his tone, as if he wants Riley to tell him it’s not true, that Ian’s making it up to bait him.
Riley says nothing.
“You son of a bitch,” Ben says, voice low, and it’s not clear who he’s talking to.
Ian’s infuriating smirk only grows wider. He knows he holds all the cards.
“Every time you look at him, every time you even think about touching him, you’ll remember me and you’ll always know that I got there first,” Ian says.
Riley’s head snaps up at the words, but Ben is staring fixedly at Ian and Riley can’t see his face.
“Son of a bitch,” Ben says again. “I’ll kill you.”
Ian cocks the gun in his hand. It echoes around the abandoned boat ominously.
“Careful Ben,” he says, tone mocking. “I’ll do it. You know I will.”
Ben shakes his head in a helpless sort of gesture.
“Don’t do this, Ian. We can work something out.”
“I’m past that stage,” Ian snaps impatiently. “I’ve sat around for three years and waited for you to find this fucking treasure. We’ve done things your way. And now I’m going to do them my way. If you’re not a help you’re a hindrance. I’m sorry, Ben.”
For a second an expression that looks suspiciously like remorse crosses Ian’s face, and his eyes settle on Riley’s pale face.
“I truly am.”
Then he pulls the trigger.
*
tbc.
