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The Unbearable Darkness of Being
Reply to GalePosted to the Roswell Slash list September 8,2000
TITLE: The Unbearable Darkness of Being
AUTHOR: Gale Dumont
RATING: NC-17. And for once, I'm not proud of that fact.
DISCLAIMER: Not this time. I don't think The WB wants anything to do with this, let alone Katims and Co.
SUMMARY: One more test. Set during "The White Room", for those of you taking notes.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Um, wow. I am *so* going to hell for this. And this time, I'm not just saying that.
DEDICATION: Miranda -- Max isn't wet, and there's no implements, but here it is.
"And how are we feeling today?"
Max blinked his eyes open, made himself focus. Pierce. Of course. As if he had any other visitors, other than the photo-negative ninjas.
"It's not like I care," Pierce said, shrugging and uncoiling himself from his slouch against the far wall, "but I figured I might at least try for the polite approach. Might work wonders." He crossed the room and pried one of Max's eyelids open, peering inside. "Doubtful. But what the hell. I'm an optimist."
"One of several colorful words that can be used to describe you." Good, but it would have sounded better if every other word wasn't slurred. Damn drugs. "Is there anything in particular you want, or are you just here to annoy me?"
Incredibly, Pierce smiled. Or smirked. Whatever it was, it counted as a facial expression. "The former. But if I happen to do the latter -- bonus." He rested a hand on Max's shoulder. "I think we started off on the wrong foot, Max."
"Really." He forced his muscles to work -- dammit, don't fail me now -- and lifted an eyebrow. Just barely. "You figure?"
"Yes. Yes, I do, and that's sad. It really is." He lessened the pressure just a bit, making the touch almost...soothing. Comforting, even. Certainly not the motion of someone threatening to murder your loved ones. "We don't have to be enemies, Max."
"We can't be friends. Friends don't torture friends."
Pierce's mouth quirked up -- yes, definitely a smile. "Except in certain discreet clubs and situations, but I understand what you're saying." His expression softened, as did his voice. "We got off to a bad start, that's all."
Max didn't say anything. He was too busy glancing over at Pierce's hand, still on his shoulder, and listening to the alarm bells going off in his head. Something was wrong here. Something was *very* wrong, and he couldn't quite figure out what it --
Pierce licked his lips. "You're really very beautiful, you know," he murmured, his voice husky.
Oh. Oh, no.
"If I didn't know any better, I'd be hard pressed to say that you weren't human." Pierce flicked his eyes over him, one sweeping glance. Max suddenly felt filthy. "*All* human."
"No," he said softly, sounding young and terrified to his own ears. "No, please, don't."
"There are certain things tests can't show, you know. I mean, we've figured out that you have feelings...but there are feelings, and there are *feelings*." Pierce waggled his eyebrows and leered at him. "How much like us *are* you, I wonder?" He leaned in close. "Let's find out."
And then Pierce's mouth was on his, kissing him softly, using barely any pressure. The human flicked his tongue out and traced the seam of Max's lips, tasting him.
Unbidden, terrified, Max moaned.
Pierce moved back, grinning. "There. That wasn't so bad, was it?"
"Stay away from me," Max snarled, knowing even as the words passed his lips that the threat was useless. What was he going to do, glare him across the room? His hands weren't even free, for Godsakes.
"I don't think so," Pierce said, laughing quietly. He sprang to his feet, cat-quick, and unknotted his tie. A few deft movements later, it was on the ground, his blazer hiding it from view. He lifted his hands and began unbuttoning his shirt. "We're just getting started." Three buttons undone. Pierce reached inside and fingered a nipple, staring at with open lust in his eyes. "I'd hate to rush things."
He didn't know why he said it. The little devil on his shoulder could not have picked a worse time to take control of his mouth. "Oh, I don't know. Seems to me that you make a habit of rushing things, if what I hear is true."
Something flared in Pierce's eyes -- not lust; even lust wasn't that angry -- but the grin never faded. "Well, I'll just have to prove them wrong, won't I?"
The shirt slipped off his shoulders, falling soundlessly to the tile. Pierce knelt and looked up at him, his mouth ever so slightly wet. "I wish I could undo your hands," he said softly.
"No you don't."
"Yes, I do. You could do such marvelous things with them..." Pierce shook his head sadly. "I'll just have to do most of it." He reached up and stroked Max's cheek. There was no anger in the touch, no hatred. The ice baths and electroshock might as well not have happened.
He slid a hand down Max's chest and flicked a nail across a nipple, smiling as it hardened. "You respond," he said softly, smiling. "Good. Responsive is good." He took the paper-thin top in his hands and tore it from Max's shoulders, leaving him clothed in only scraps. "But I think we can improve on that."
"Go to hell." The words were quiet, but with no little heat behind them. He kept his eyes focused on the far wall.
"Maybe later." Pierce ran his hands along Max's chest, fascinated by the way the muscles played against his skin. He reached out and tweaked a nipple, watching the trail of goosebumps along Max's arms rise and fall. He licked his lips again. "I like this too much to go anywhere just now." His other hand dropped to Max's crotch, massaging him tenderly. "We're just getting started."
His heart was thundering in his chest. "What do you want?" he whispered, and wasn't terribly surprised to hear fear in his voice.
"Oh, so many things." Pierce kept the pressure up, smiling as the first hint of an erection appeared. "There. That's better." His voice dropped, became a low purr. "You like this, don't you, Max?"
Max kept silent. No point in speaking; Pierce would just find a way to twist his words against him anyway.
Pierce didn't disappoint. "You don't need to say it. I know." He quickened the pace, stroking the head of his erection through the pants. A drop of moisture appeared. "It's all right, Max," he whispered soothingly. "This isn't happening. It's just a nightmare."
Just a nightmare. Yes. A bad one, yeah, but just a nightmare. He could deal with that.
Slowly, slowly, he exhaled, forcing his muscles to relax.
"Liz never did this for you, did she?"
Max blinked, forced his eyes open. "What?"
"This." Pierce stroked his cock again to emphasize his point, the smile widening a fraction as the member twitched, eager for his touch. "Such an innocent little thing. She'd never do something this dirty, would she?"
Max gritted his teeth and tried to ignore Pierce's touch. "I'd never ask her to."
"Not the point. Even if you did, she wouldn't. She'd think it was disgusting. She'd think *you* were disgusting."
"She would not!"
"Of course she would. She's a good girl, emphasis on 'good'. Straight-A student, future valedictorian, going to a good college. The kind of girl you bring home to Mom." Pierce stroked his thumb along the underside of Max's cock. The motion felt disturbingly soothing. Max resisted the urge to relax. "Good girls never do this sort of thing, Max. Sometimes, not even the bad girls will."
Pierce grinned, showing perfect white teeth. More white. Jesus. Max's gorge rose. "But the bad *guys*...oh, we do this all the time. And more." His lips curved in a smile. "Want to see?"
He didn't want to look. He didn't want to see. He didn't. No.
And just as he opened his eyes, Pierce angled his head and took Max's cock all the way into his mouth.
The sensation was too much. Max cried out and thrust down Pierce's throat.
"Just relax," the agent cautioned, drawing back just enough to speak. He placed a kiss on the head, licking away the pre-come that had gathered there. "You can pretend I'm Liz, if you want. I don't mind." He licked again, swirling his tongue around the head. Savoring it. "The more excited you are, the more there'll be for me."
Max whimpered. No, no, no, this wasn't happening, it *wasn't* --
/Yes, it is,/ piped up a voice in the back of his head. It sounded remarkably like himself. The thought wasn't as reassuring as he'd hoped. /It's not a nightmare, and there's no way of getting out of the situation. Just relax, like he said./
But I don't want to relax! He's -- he's --
/He's raping you. Yes. But what are you going to do about it? You're strapped to the chair, your powers are being blocked, and he's got his teeth in a...sensitive area./ The voice paused. /Don't cry out again, not out of fear. He likes that./
How do you know all this?
Another pause. /Do what he said. Pretend it's Liz. It's *her* mouth on you, not his. It's a matter of survival. Get through this. Pay him back later./
What if there's not a later?
/There will be. Don't worry. Now...relax./
Trembling, Max lowered his eyes and concentrated.
Dark-haired, yes, but shoulder-length and silky, brushing over his fevered skin. There were no tenative swipes with her tongue, like he'd always fantasized. She was sure and steady, and grinned up at him once in a while. Max didn't know if it was talent or instinct. He didn't want to know.
Suddenly, she took him all the way into her mouth, down deep, throat relaxed. Warm and wet. He groaned and thrust once. He didn't want to hurt her, but *Jesus*, that mouth --
And then he was coming, exploding inside her mouth, crying out and thrusting hard down her throat. She swallowed eagerly, sucking on his cock, drawing out the last remains of his climax.
Max leaned his head against the back of the chair and closed his eyes, felt his muscles relax.
And then the shock of cool air hit his wet cock, and Pierce nuzzled it, rubbing slick lips against the head. Stubble rasped against sensitive skin. "Isn't that better?" he murmured, his voice suddenly familiar. It made the pit of Max's stomach hurt.
Oh. Oh, God. He'd -- Pierce had --
Very softly, the click not at all audible to anyone else, a door in the back of Max's mind closed.
"Well," Pierce said, getting to his feet. He produced a handkerchief from his pants pocket, and wiped delicately at his lips. Max took one look and squeezed his eyes shut. "That certainly went better than I'd expected. DNA evidence *and* a sign of your affection."
Max said nothing, just kept his eyes closed.
"I understand," he heard Pierce say softly, sympathy lacing his voice. The man almost sounded sincere. "You want to get some rest, regain your strength. Let me help."
The sound of a syringe sliding out of dress slacks, followed by the slight pinch of a needle against his skin. For once, Max didn't fight it.
"I'll see you when you wake up," Pierce whispered, and kissed Max very gently. The sound of his footsteps echoing on the floor ushered the younger man into sleep. There were no dreams that he remembered.
And no matter how much Max spat, the taste of Pierce's mouth never entirely left.
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