This is a collab with @quietly-by-myself for @the-whumpers-soiree. It features Faolan from her Mercury and Time series (link here) and my original whumper, Finlay Iver.
This story will contain elements of explicit noncon, references to past violent events, including noncon, torture, among other adult/dark themes. Reader discretion is advised. It's much darker than what I normally post.
That being said, it's about 36k words total, so we're starting a tag list.
Content for Chapter 2: PTSD, kidnapping, noncon touch, panic attack, intimate whumper, torture, begging, electric shock
The plane ride from the soiree to the private New York airport was less than an hour. From there his chauffeur drove his heavily tinted SUV out to his estate outside of Middletown, NY. He liked it here because it was quiet. Open. No prying eyes or ears. And since Faolan would be staying underground for a while… he’d be able to scream as loud as he wanted and no one would disturb them. Of course, that didn’t mean he’d be talking. Finlay liked the way his toys sounded when they were gagged. But that would come later.
He ran a delicate finger down Faolan’s cheek as they pulled into the driveway. His two henchmen, Parker and Lucian, came out of the house and helped to carry Finlay to his new room. It was a cell adjacent to Finlay’s playroom. Well, an outsider might call it a torture chamber, but Finlay thought of it in more positive terms than that.
They laid him down on his cot and chained his ankle to the wall. He liked for them to be conscious and not on the verge of vomiting when he started working with them. Finlay smiled down at him and kissed his forehead.
“You’re going to be so beautiful while you break I just know it. See you soon.” He ran his fingers over Faolan’s lips and then turned and left. The heavy door swung shut behind him before it was bolted shut.
As Finlay left, Faolan made small whimpering sounds. It was apparent that the whimpers from a nightmare. Little did he know the nightmare he’d be waking up to.
Sometimes, those nightmares of William, Master, whatever Faolan found the strength to call him that day, were vivid.
However, when he woke up a few hours later with the worst hangover of his life and a chain clasped around his ankle, Faolan soon realized that the nightmare wasn’t just vivid. It was absolutely real.
Immediately, Faolan began to panic. Had one of William’s friends found him? Was he being held by one of them?
I can’t go through that again. I need to sleep! I need to see people. I-I don’t have anything to give. I can’t betray someone again.
As Faolan tried to sit up, a wave of nausea overwhelmed him. Another wave of panic hit him. What if he was sick?
His foot hit a bucket, which he gladly took to vomit in. He felt awful as everything that was in his stomach came up in waves. Part of the vomiting brought on more panic before he tried to orientate himself in the cell. There wasn’t really much to it - the cot, the bucket, and the chain on the wall. No windows and a light. A light. Faolan could only pray that it would turn off.
Faolan whipped his head around so hard he almost knocked himself completely over when he heard the door open behind him.
It was the man from the bar - Finlay.
Faolan stood up immediately, too quickly, as he tried to steady himself on his feet. His combat training came back easily as he prepared to confront Finlay.
“Do you want to explain what’s going on?” He practically growled his response at Finlay. His instincts from that time in the great “before” always came back when he was reminded of the time he spent as a prisoner of war. He was ready to fight if he needed to.
Finlay smirked at him for half a second. Time to play. His hand was lightning fast as he backhanded Faolan across the face. “On your knees when I come into this room. Here, you will do as you're told. You will not question me. If I want you to know something, I will tell you. Is that clear?”
Faolan grabbed his cheek where Finlay had slapped him. At first, it made him angry. Yet, at the same time, it seemed all too familiar.
Faolan swallowed his fear and put on that tough front again. “You could be as clear as the world’s most expensive diamond and it wouldn’t make a difference to me.”
Finlay punched him in the gut, again, with no warning, causing Faolan to double over. He grabbed a fist full of Faolan’s lovely blond hair and held his head back at a painful angle.
“I’m going to have so much fun watching you eat those words. Now get on your knees. You really don’t want to make me angry. Right now I’m simply amused. Cross me and that will change.”
Faolan doubled over in a gagging fit. The punch to his gut had irritated an already upset stomach and burnt esophagus. He felt more bile rising in his throat, but did his best to keep it down.
“Maybe you should’ve learned more about me before you decided to pick me. You seem to know Atticus. You know he will come for me, right?” Faolan put on more of his faux moxie. He couldn’t look weak. Not after everything he’d done. Not after all the progress he’d made.
“Mmmmm. A fighter. I knew it. You’re still going to regret not obeying me. You’ll learn your place here soon enough.” Finlay held his hair as he drew something from his back pocket. He could feel Faolan struggling, but it wasn’t going to matter. He pressed the stun gun against Faolan’s ribs and engaged the button, sending blue lightning through his torso.
Every muscle, bone, and cell lit up with pain as Faolan let out a horrible scream at the force of the stun gun. Seconds became minutes and minutes could’ve easily become hours. It felt like he couldn’t breathe. His hair was being ripped out of his skull as he thrashed and screamed, unable to claw at the arm holding him up.
Finlay smiled as he watched his prey thrashing and dangling by his hair. He pulled the stun gun away. “Would you like to kneel now or shall I keep going?” He smirked as he watched the lingering tremors running through Faolan.
Faolan struggled for air, hardly catching a word of what Finlay was saying. Tears formed in his eyes, but he convinced himself that they were from the uncontrollable movements. As he tried to breathe, he realized he was too winded to give much of an answer. If Finlay wasn’t holding him up, he would’ve collapsed.
“Can’t…” He swallowed his breath to speak. “You won’t win… this fight. I’ve taken down guys much bigger than you.”
Finlay patted his cheeks. “Sure you have, honey. You keep telling yourself that. In the meantime…” He shoved the stun gun against him again and pressed the button, sending waves of torment though the smaller man.
The tears were genuine this time. More screams ripped through his throat as the jitters ran through his system, ripping his muscles apart. Eventually, he screamed his burnt throat raw and he couldn’t even manage a squeak.
He’d been in this position before. Suddenly, he felt every bone in his body freeze as his blood ran cold. If he wasn’t convulsing from the shocks, he would’ve been completely still. He felt those familiar hands as he managed a scream.
“Stop! Stop! Stop, please!”
Finlay stopped. “Change of heart, darling?”
Faolan looked at him with the eyes of a scared rabbit. He was clearly stuck in some sort of intense memory as he nodded a little - subtly - just like he had that night with William.
“Good.” Finlay released his hair. “Then kneel.”
Without a second thought, like that night, he kneeled, having to use his hands to hold himself up. He was in too much pain, too weak, to keep himself propped up with just his knees. He could only hope it would be enough.
Finlay stroked his hair. “Much better. I hope we won’t have to do that again. This is how you will present yourself every time I come here. Failure to do so will result in more pain than is necessary.” He moved his hand under Faolan’s chin, tilting it up to look at him. “Am. I. Clear?”
Faolan cringed back from the hand stroking his hair, but tried not to let it show. Seeing the malice in the man’s eyes was perhaps more terrifying than the prospects he was proposing. “You’re very clear.” His voice was raspy from all the screaming.
Finlay tilted his head and wiped the boy’s tears from his face. “Tsk. Tsk. So unnecessary. But also so lovely. I knew you would be. You’re quite pretty. Do you know that? Has anyone ever told you that before? Maybe Atticus? Maybe someone else? Mmm?” He raised an eyebrow at Faolan.
Even against his best instinct, Faolan couldn’t help but melt a bit into the wiping of his tears. “Atticus never says such things, but I’ve heard it…” he swallowed a lump he was sure was choking him. “I’ve heard it many times before from a different person.”
Now that was interesting. Finley wasn’t expecting the young man to lean into his touch like that. Not this fast. Very interesting indeed. “Really. Tell me about this person.”
“He’s dead.” It was the first thing Faolan thought to say. After that, Faolan couldn’t really put together words to describe William.
He didn’t see the trial a couple years ago? The thought almost surprised that part of his brain that constantly worried that people would recognize him.
“Oh yes, I read about this. Your William. And that’s how you became Atticus’ little pet.”
Faolan froze. His heart might’ve stopped dead in its tracks for a moment. He wasn’t sure how to respond. Hearing William’s name, hearing it said as his brought some primal part of his brain out.
“I’m going to be ill.” He felt his unsettled stomach doing flips. Whether it was anxiety, medication, alcohol, or his reflux, Faolan couldn’t be sure. “There’s medicine in my wallet. I keep one pill on me.”
“There’s a bucket if you need it. I’ll have my men look for your medicine. What is it?” Faolan was full of surprises.
Faolan crawled his way to the bucket, grabbing the edges. The smell of it made him feel more sick. “Zofran. Zofran oral dissolving. 4-” he felt himself heave a little bit. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. 4 milligrams if I remember correctly. It’s in a silver blister. Pepcid if you have any, too.”
Curiouser and curiouser. “I’ll see what I can do.” Finlay was thoughtful for a moment. Faolan was already apologizing. This may be easier than he thought. “If you’d like to avoid these unpleasantries, I would suggest that you obey from the outset. What do you think?”
The last of his statements earned Finlay a glare from Faolan. However, he quickly became sick and dry heaved a bit.
“Don’t you dare hold my medicine back for that. It’s going to be a bigger problem for you than for me. I’ll lose weight and lose that beauty. Loose skin, less muscle.”
It was an assumption from his time with William that came bubbling to the surface.
Finlay grabbed his hair and wrenched it back. “Don’t you dare fucking tell me what to do. You can be force fed. Injected with meds. There’s lots of ways to get you to do what I want that are far less pleasant.” He motioned with his hand to their surroundings. “You think I have a set up like this because you’re my first plaything? You think I’m new to this?”
At the mention of force feeding, Faolan’s eyes seemed to glaze over. His mind went back to a different time and a different place. He didn’t even really register Finlay’s questions. He only felt the pain of his hair being pulled back.
“Hey! Hey, I asked you a question!” Finlay yelled. When Faolan still didn’t respond he slapped him hard. Not as hard as that first back hand, but hard enough to jam his teeth together. “Answer me. Do you think I’m new to this?”
Faolan gasped, genuine tears in his eyes. He seemed dazed as he moved his hand quietly to his face, grasping where he’d been struck twice now.
“I-I don’t think you are.” He still seemed a bit dazed. It was clear his mind was retreating a bit as he looked at Finlay a bit blankly.
“Good. I think it’s time we move to the other room. I want to have a proper look at you and maybe see about testing your limits. I’ll have one of my men get your meds.”
He stood and opened the door. There were two men standing outside the door. One of them handed Finlay something. When Finlay turned around, he had a collar and a leash in his hand. “I wouldn’t want you trying to run off. Now be a good boy and we won’t have to hurt you.”
Faolan looked at the collar, then at the chain around his ankle. He only had one thought in his mind: get away from the collar. He knew what that meant. He knew what would happen next.
He ducked and darted to the cot, sliding himself under it. He was small enough that he could fit snugly without Finlay being able to easily reach him.
Finlay sighed with exasperation. But this is also what he wanted. Too easily obtained submission and he got bored. Still, he had a lot planned for today and this was already taking longer than he wanted. He snapped his fingers and the two men from the door entered the tiny space.
“Parker! Lucian! Get him out and get him back on his knees.” He rolled his eyes at the childish protest. Like this would actually work. The collaring was inevitable.
Faolan saw the two men and his eyes went big. He only pressed himself further against the wall. Something inside him wanted to beg for them to not hurt him, even if he knew begging was futile. The anxiety was overwhelming - paralyzing even - as he hid, like the situation would disappear if he buried himself for long enough.
One of the henchmen simply reached down and grabbed the end of the chain and pulled. They were stronger and bigger and Faolan was not heavy, at least not in comparison to them. The second man helped as they dragged him by his ankle out from under the cot.
They seized him by his hair and arms, each of them holding one arm and pulling his hair back.
Finlay advanced on his cornered prey. “Do you really think that was the best idea? Now, not only do you still get collared,” he slid the collar around Faolan’s slender neck and buckled it behind him. He pulled the padlock out of his pocket and locked it into place, “but now you’re also going to be punished. He looked straight into Faolan’s eyes. “That means more pain, in case you weren’t sure.”
The sheer helplessness of the situation began to send Faolan over the edge. He felt his chest tighten as he remembered the last time he was collared perhaps a little too well. He thought he’d put that memory out of his head, but apparently, it was still there.
“I-I’m sorry.” His ankle hurt. His scalp hurt, His face hurt. His leg was covered in scrapes now and the one man was practically wrenching his shoulders out of place. He needed a break, but he knew he wouldn’t be getting one any time soon.
“Oh… you will be, baby. The sorriest little pet I’ve ever had down here.” Finlay looked up to his guards. “String him up.”
