#commander spink | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

leftenantmackgordon · 2 years

Text

Wings Over My Heart - Pt. IV

A 1936 Things to Come AU Gordon x Audebert (x Horstmayer) Fic

Series Main List

Warnings: Explicit non-con sexual threats, non-con touching, explicit language, violence and graphic torture (including descriptions of thumb screws and flogging), dystopian re-imagining of WWI and aftermath, generous re-use of dialogue from the film, no need to have seen the film

Word Count: 4.1k

Pt. IV -

Karl’s head spins as he leaves the detention cell and heads for his quarters. He tugs at the top buttons of shirt as if that will help his raging thoughts.

The aviator’s - Audebert’s… Camille’s - words loop in his mind. How wonderful would it be to travel with Camille and in a matter of hours, arrive at some foriegn destination that seemed forever out of his reach? What would life be like in a world devoted to peace instead of war? The concept seems so alien to him as he takes the stairs up to the old Town Hall’s upper levels.

When The Commander appropriated the building as his glorified palace, he installed himself, Karl, and a few other key officers in the former upper level offices. The best furniture was scavenged from the town’s ruins, and his room outfitted as befits a leader of men. Karl certainly couldn’t deny that’s what he was in his role serving The Commander, but… what would be like to lead men in peaceful pursuits? Where creation was valued over destruction?

He keeps seeing the warm conviction in Camille’s eyes, keeps hearing the hopeful surety in Camille’s voice. They stood so close together in the dank cell, and he’d never… well, he’d never been so tempted to act upon urges that weren’t condoned. He’d wanted to reach out for Camille’s hand, to taste the assured man’s words on his tongue, to fall into the security of Camille’s arms and the world that he promised.

Even now, heat still lingers on his skin, itching beneath his clothes as he recalls the taller man’s handsome face lit in the paltry candlelight. Karl doesn’t usually indulge the baser urges of his body, but maybe… maybe just for one night, he can take himself in hand and imagine all that life could be with Camille at his side.

He rounds the corner down the hallway and stops short. All pleasant thoughts disappear from his mind at the sight of Sprink standing sentry outside the door to his quarters. The taller man is obviously waiting for him, and when his gaze connects with Karl’s, a distinctly unsettling smile darkens Sprink’s face.

Karl forces a hard swallow and steels himself as he continues down the hall.

“Major Karl Horstmayer,” Spink says with an insufferable smile. “You better have a good excuse for keeping The Commander waiting.”

Karl’s stomach drops to his feet. Seeing The Commander right now is the last thing he wants, but rarely gets what he wants. He nods quickly. “Then, I’ll go see him presently.”

Sprink’s face twists with wicked glee, as if he can’t wait for the outcome of Karl’s meeting. He doesn’t pause for the taller man to respond before stepping around him to continue down the hall. As far as Karl’s concerned, Sprink can stand there all night.

He reaches the door to The Commander’s quarters, the largest office at the end of the hall. He pauses to straighten his jacket but decides against buttoning up the top few buttons of his shirt. He knocks on the door with a short, solid motion, and waits until The Commander bids him entry.

As he steps into the well-appointed room, The Commander lounges in one of two overstuffed wingback chairs opposite a roaring fire in a barrel. Not overly elegant, perhaps, but they have to make do in a world of no electricity. The older man glances up at Karl with a welcoming look. Perhaps a little too welcoming for Karl’s taste as he speaks. “Horstmayer, my boy. About damn time.”

Karl folds his hand behind his back and tips his head. “My apologies, sir. I came as soon as I heard that you wanted to see me.”

“Yes, yes, we’ll get to that,” The Commander dismisses easily as he motions to the plush chair next to him. “Take a seat.”

Karl’s hackles rise in discomforting suspicion, and he crosses the room on careful steps to take a seat.

Rudolf lounges back in his chair with distinct pleasure. His cheeks are ruddy from the fire and probably the ale, if Karl has to guess. No doubt the feast tonight has bolstered his ego, and honestly, Karl’s surprised that he doesn’t have one of those starry-eyed young women warming his bed. The older man fixes him with a curious gaze for a long moment before speaking. “Tonight was a banner celebration - a toast to our triumph over the Hill State that is almost at its glorious conclusion!” He shakes his head low and slow. “And you… you who led our men into the fray, you who serve me so loyally… just left the festivities never to return.”

Karl remembers how the ale had soured his stomach, and he knows it’s best to be honest. “Yes, sir.” He nods quickly. “The ale didn’t agree with me.”

Rudolf nods in consolation as he frowns. “I know it’s tough, my boy. The smell of blood clings to my nose, too, but we mustn’t let it prevent us from losing sight of what we have. Of celebrating what we have achieved together. Now,” he smacks his lips. “I want you to tell me where you were tonight.”

The tone of his voice sends a shiver down Karl’s spine. He stiffens against the comfortable chair, recognizing the trap. Everything from Rudolf’s word choice to the sharp gleam in his eyes indicates that he already knows the answer. He’s deliberately testing Karl’s loyalty, and indignation flares in Karl’s chest as he answers. “I went to speak with the prisoner.”

Rudolf nods slowly as his scowl deepens. “That’s right. Now, why would you forsake an evening of celebration with your Commander for the company of a sad delusional man?”

“I wanted to find out what that cold, foreign invader means.” Karl uses The Commander’s early words to describe Camille. “Each day that we wage war against the Hill State and celebrate in return is another day that his people’s factories in Basra are producing more airplanes.”

The Commander arches a confused brow. “Basra?”

“His headquarters, sir.” Karl hedges carefully. “He… mentioned it that first day in your main chamber-.”

“I remember perfectly what he said to me! Don’t use this late hour as an excuse to get insolent, boy!”

“Of course not, sir. My apologies for any implied insinuation.” Karl straightens his back as he holds The Commander’s gaze. “But I strongly suggest that we reconsider our position in relation to his - for the sake of our own survival, if nothing else.”

The Commander snorts in disgust. “Don’t let that man fill your head with poppycock! What that man says is arrogant bluff!”

“What he says is true,” Karl insists. “We should make peace with the airmen, and him - and let him go before his people unleash a force against us that we couldn’t possibly hope to compete with. Especially given the quality of Audebert’s airplane.”

A sharp silence descends as The Commander glares at Karl in growing fury. All too late, Karl realizes the grave mistake he made in saying the aviator’s name. The Commander’s broad fingers clench against the armrest as anger blazes in his eyes. “You know that damnable man’s name? You dare to use it in front of me, as if that man deserves any of my respect?!”

Karl quickly shakes his head. “That wasn’t my intention, sir. I didn’t mean-”

“You meant plenty!” The Commander rises to his feet, but Karl knows better than to follow. If The Commander wants to dress him down, well… at least, the vantage point will be right. Karl braces for something - anything - as The Commander steps closer.

Strong fingers grasp his jaw and forcefully tilt his head back. Karl doesn’t wince at the too-tight grip of The Commander’s hand as the older man bores his eyes through Karl’s. “Now see here,” Rudolf growls in pure frustration. “You have proved yourself a man worthy of my favor - you’ve fought beside me time and time again. Your position here is a reward for your service, but never forget that it can be stripped from you just as quick!”

Karl knows better than to speak until The Commander has had his fill, but he refuses to cower or feel ashamed of his conversation with Camille. He holds The Commander’s gaze with firm determination despite the shiver that ripples across his skin as the older man’s face twists in a savage snarl.

“In fact,” The Commander hisses, “we should do something about that pride of yours!” His broad hand abandons Karls jaw and lands on the back of his head. In the same motion, Rudolf steps forward and drags Karl forward to smash the younger man’s face against his crotch. Rudolf grunts with a burst of sudden pleasure as Karl instinctively recoils against the feel of the half-hard cock through the older man’s trousers.

The Commander thrusts his hips against Karl’s face with another grunt. “How proud would you be gagging on my cock, hmm?” He gives another firm roll of his hips as revulsion rots Karl’s stomach. “How proud would you be on all fours, stripped bare and stuffed full of my seed?”

Karl’s fingers dig into his thigh, resisting every urge to fight back and worsen the situation, as Rudolf’s cock hardens against his nose and mouth. The older man grunts in pleasure again with another hard roll of his hips. “Never forget,” he gasps. “That with just one word I could make you my personal cock-warmer, and no one would think twice to question my orders.” The hand on the back of Karl’s head screws into his hair with uncomfortable pressure. “And I’d make sure that you’d be just as eager to serve me in that capacity as you always have… your mouth would look so lovely, red and raw and leaking my spend…”

With an abrupt motion, he yanks Karl’s head away and steps back. Karl’s head spins from the throbbing pain on the back of his skull and the sudden change in position as he finally breathes free of The Commander’s suffocating presence. He doesn’t dare meet Rudolf’s gaze as the man’s words loop in his mind, and Karl’s stomach lurches.

“You may go, Karl.” The Commander says with a dark note of finality as he strides towards his bedroom door. “Unless you want to volunteer for the position, then I suggest that you go have a good, long think about where your loyalties lay.”

The first hunger pangs hit Camille’s stomach. He rises from the pitiful chair in his cell and walks over to the tiny window inlaid with wrought-iron bars. It won’t be long now until his fellow airmen arrive. He can only hope that Mackenzie is among them - no doubt his beloved has been beside himself. All too well, he remembers when Mackenzie was 45 hours delayed from his return to Basra, not because he was held captive but instead treated to an all-night feast of drunken revelry.

Unlike Camille, Mackenzie hadn’t needed to take his emergency supply of sustenance tablets. They weren’t good to use for an extended period of time, but World Communications had a strict 72-hour window for search and rescue. With the efficacy of his sustenance tablets waning, Camille looks forward to the expiration of that 72-hour window and the arrival of his fellow aviators to help set this part of the country to rights.

The rusted, squeaky lock of the cell door sounds, drawing his attention. Two guards step in, and Camille’s brow furrows to notice their lack of food tray. The taller, burlier man gestures at Camille. “You’re to come with us.”

Camille arches a brow in surprise. “Am I to be granted another audience?”

Neither guard answers him, but Camille steps forward and follows them out of the dingy detention cell. They lead him further down the stone corridor and descend another curving staircase. As they go deeper into the building’s bowels, Camille wonders at the history of this building to have such a basement structure.

His stomach drops to his feet when they reach their destination. He’s familiar with the implements of torture from bygone eras of the World-That-was, but he’s never seen such a collection amassed in one place. Two iron maidens stand ominous vigil in veiled shadows; a breaking wheel rests in one corner of the room, and yet another table is outfitted with thumb screws and flaying knives. In the middle of the room, a large rack table dominates with its arm and leg shackles, and oversized turning wheels.

In the middle of the frightful scene, The Commander presides with calm ease. Fear ripples down Camille’s spine as he glances around, also noticing Karl standing in quiet obedience against the far wall. He catches the younger man’s gaze, but Karl looks stoically ahead.

Camille is led before The Commander, and the silence in the room threatens to deafen him. At long last, The Commander turns to look at him. “Well, Mr. Wings Over the World,” he starts low and mocking. “It’s come to this.”

Camille offers a short nod. “It would seem that way.”

“I’ll have you know that it’s been suggested that I make peace with you and your ilk. That, in doing so, I should surrender my Sovereign State that I have sacrificed much to build.” He spits each word with vehement distaste. “And to that I say - never!”

“Never is a powerful word,” Camille cautions. “New airplanes for our order are rising night and day, buzzing like hornets around a hornet’s nest.” He casts a wary glance around the crude tortue chamber, summoning his courage. “What happens to me is a small affair. But make no mistake that they’ll finish you. The new world of united airmen will finish you.” He holds The Commander’s gaze and forces a small smile, thinking of Mackenzie on his way to the rescue. “If you listen closely… you can almost hear them now….”

“I hear nothing but the sound of your perpetual blustering!” The Commander roars. “There’s no making peace between you and me. It’s your world or mine - and it’s going to be mine.” He leans in close, jutting his jaw as he glares at Camille. “And for all of your threats about swarms of hornets and so on - just remember that you’re the hostage here. My hostage, in fact… so don’t be too sure that you’ll win. Guards!” He doesn’t take his eyes off Camille. “Bind his hands in the thumb screws!”

The guards are on him before he can mount a resistance, and they drag him over to the table lined with torture implements. His wrists are fastened in fixed shackles that leave his fingers vulnerable and exposed against the rough wooden surface. He pulls ineffectually against his bonds as adrenaline races through him, helpless but to watch from his stooped position as the guards place his fingers through the middle of two, large vices. There’s precious little room between the vice’s upper edge attached to a turnscrew, and Camille knows it won’t take much before the pressure bears down with crushing force. His heart pounds as he struggles to keep his composure.

The Commander steps up to the table and settles a large hand over one of the turnscrews, tapping a finger against the rough metal. “Despite what you may think, this room doesn’t get used all that much.” He sniffs, looking casually around as if the torture implements surrounding him were commonplace. “Its primary purpose is only when we capture enemy spies who seek to undermine my authority - much as you have done!” He gives the thumbscrew a harsh turn, and the vice compresses Camille’s fingers. He hisses at the unpleasant sensation, but he knows it’s going to get worse. Much worse

The Commander watches his facial expression all the while, giving Camille a distinctly uneasy feeling. “Guards,” The Commander calls out again, still transfixed on Camille’s face even as he points a finger at Karl. “Seize him!”

Camille whips his gaze around, but it’s too late. The guards swarm Karl before the stunned man can even react. Karl’s arms are swiftly immobilized and the jacket ripped from his shoulders. Camille jerks against his bonds desperate to help as Karl’s shirt is also stripped away to leave him bare-chested. The tightening pressure of the thumbscrew on his left hand draws his attention back with a pained gasp, only to see the sadistic gleam in The Commander’s gaze.

“Why are you doing this?!” Camille demands, flushed and breathing hard as both his hands throb.

The Commander leans forward. “Because you refuse to see. Because you refuse to help me get my airplanes flying. And because…” he drops his voice to a sinister register. “He called you by name.”

The clanking of chains and shackles sounds around the room, and Camille turns in horror to see Karl chained, face-down, against the rack table. Each wrist is shackled above his head, elongating his arms and his torso down to where each ankle is also shackled. The muscles of his back work in the low firelight as he tests and twists against his bonds.

Pain shoots up Camille’s arms as each thumbscrew is given another hard twist before The Commander steps away. Camille cries out as he tries to instinctively pull away from the pain, but his bonds refuse to yield. In the tense moment, his gaze finds Karl’s eyes wide with fear and panic. Camille never wanted it to come to this - he shouldn’t have let it come to this. He gulps hard, powerless as The Commander approaches the rack table.

“I’m sorry that you got yourself tangled in this mess, Karl, my boy.” The Commander starts with a heavy shake of his head. “Originally, I had plans to put Mr. Aviator - or, should I say Mr. Audebert - on the rack, but then I thought… you’re much better suited.” He glances back at his guards. “One hand each on Mr. Audbert’s thumbscrews - but only on my command.”

Camille trembles with a shuddering breath as the guards flank him, and The Commander reaches behind the rack, just out of view. He withdraws a long cat o’ nine tails that makes Camille freeze in horror.

“M-my Commander, sir.” Karl’s voice trembles. “I-I have thought long and hard about our conversation last night - and, I never should have doubted you. I never should have usurped-!” His words tear off in an anguished cry as The Commander flares the whip out and brings it down across the bare skin of Karl’s back. Bloody stripes of ripped skin streak across Karl’s back as he stiffens against his bonds. Again, The Commander lets the whip fly in another bloody arc across Karl’s back, flaying more skin as Karl’s heart-wrenching cry echoes off the stone.

“Stop!” Camille cries. “He’s done nothing! I’m the one you want!”

The Commander turns towards his men, pointedly ignoring Camille. “Give another turn of the screws.”

Camille’s pained scream echoes in tandem with Karl’s as the whip again streaks across his bare flesh. Karl shakes and shivers against his bonds, uncontrollably weeping against the severe pain as The Commander leans close. He shakes his head as a twisted, aroused smile mangles his face in the firelight. “Do you have any idea… how good you look like this, hmm?” His nose is almost close enough to brush Karl’s hair, yet his voice is pitched high-enough for Camille to hear every word. “But I think we can make you look even better yet…”

He drapes the whip over his shoulder and his hands wrap around Karl’s waist to work at his trousers.

“N-no,” Karl stammers as he trembles. “P-please…” His pleas fall on The Commander’s deaf ears as his trousers and underwear are pulled down to his ankles. Even in the low light, Camille can see the embarrassed shame that burns Karl’s skin as one of The Commander’s hand gropes between his legs while the other snakes back to grab the swell of Karl’s backside.

“Enough!” Camille pleads. “Let him go! Let him go, and I’ll-”

“Guards!” That’s all it takes for the pressure to multiply on his fingers, ripping another tormented scream from Camille’s chest. The bones feel close to fracturing and tears roll freely down his cheeks as pain consumes him. He forces a choking sob, blinking through tears to watch The Commander finally withdraw his hands from Karl’s exposed body.

But then, The Commander takes the whip in hand and runs it teasingly along the round globes of Karl’s behind. Camille shakes his head, utterly helpless as The Commander raises the whip high and strikes it across the sensitive skin.

More bloody lines tear across Karl’s skin, and his voice cracks from the force of the scream.

A loud, banging thud comes behind Camille, just audible over the rush of blood in his ears. “My Commander!” A new voice calls out, echoing in the stone chamber. “We’re under attack!”

Hope sparks in Camille’s chest. Could it really be…?

With obvious reluctance, The Commander lowers the whip to his side as he turns with a look of angry confusion. “Under attack? Nonsense! The Hill State has no army left to speak of - we saw to that!”

“It’s not the Hill State, sir.” The new arrival sounds distinctly panicked. “It’s large, black airplanes - j-just like his, sir,” the man jabs an accusing finger at Camille. “Except larger and they’re… they’re dropping gas bombs, sir!”

Outrage explodes on The Commander’s face as he drops the whip and turns from the rack, leaving Karl forgotten in his wake. “Come along, men!” He motions to the guards flanking Camille. “We’ll deal with these invaders, then return to finish what we started here!”

He leads his men out of the torture chamber, leaving Camille and Karl miserably trapped. Karl’s soft cries and whimpers sound in the silence, and Camille’s heart breaks. He tries to think beyond his own near-crippling pain, grasping for words. “Karl… I am… so sorry for this. For all of it.” He hiccups and shakes his head, hissing as his jerks against his bonds and more white-hot pain erupts in his hands. “I wish… I wish that I’d never come here.”

“D-don’t say that,” Karl whispers weakly with a trembling voice. “I-I… it’s worth it to have m-met you.”

Camille shakes his head pitifully as he takes in the freely bleeding wounds across Karl’s bare body. “I’m not worth that, Karl. Nobody is.”

Karl draws a sharp inhale, wincing and gasping in pain at the small movement. “A-as long as your people… don’t let him win-” He breaks off with another pained whimper. “As you said - W-we… forever.”

Camille’s heart goes out to the younger man across the room, and he’s never wanted to protect and care for someone so fiercely. A fresh wave of burning tears wet his eyes as his heart leaps to his throat. “I… we will get out of here, Karl. We will not let him win.” He knows it’s true, but it’s so hard to believe through the searing pain in both of his hands. But as bad as his pain is, he knows that Karl’s must be so much worse.

“Commandant Audebert?!” A far-away voice echoes off the stone, so faint, but so heart-achingly familiar. The last of Camille’s strength crumbles as the familiar voice of his beloved calls out again. “Camille?!”

“Down here! In here!” He does his best to raise his voice over his labored breathing and pained tears. “We’re down here!” Camille tries to twist around to see the door, but the movement jostles his aching hands too much.

“God in heaven!” Rushed footsteps sound on the stone behind him, and Camille’s heart melts when Mackenzie Gordon comes into view alongside on the table. “Hold on, love” he urges gently as he glances at the thumbscrews before making quick work of loosening them. “You’re alright, Camille - you’re alright.”

Camille shakes his head desperately. “Not me, I’m fine - I’m fine.” He nods anxiously at Karl. “Help him - he needs it more.”

Mackenzie glances over with a horrified look, obviously torn between leaving Camille still bound to the table and helping the flogged man. Camille offers a firm, reassuring nod as relief spreads through him with the removed pressure of the vices. “I’m fine, just… go tend to him.”

Mackenzie doesn’t argue as he nods and steps away towards the rack. “My God,” he mumbles in outraged horror. “Careful, easy… easy, now.” He loosens Karl’s bonds, the younger man crying out as he jostles and collapses against Mackenzie. “Careful,” the Scotsman cautions, “I’ve got you - you’re safe now, but we don’t want to risk infection from this floor.”

More strong voices and urgent footsteps sound in the corridor, and more of their fellow aviators swarm in. As soon as Camille’s wrists are released, he can’t get over to Mackenzie and Karl’s sides fast enough despite the aching pain in his hands. He throws his arms around both of them, clinging to them for all that’s he worth as his tears flow free, and he never wants to let them go.

#joyeux noël 2005 #joyeux noël #lieutenant horstmayer #lieutenant gordon #lieutenant audebert #horstmayer #gordon #audebert #camille rené audebert #mackenzie joseph gordon #karl friedrich horstmayer

0 notes